Else, afraid to contradict Minna, stared at her companion like a scared puppy. A slow fire burned within me and I wanted to slap sense into this boastful woman. But I could not in any way betray my feelings. I had bigger worries—Karl, my parents, the lingering specter of death—to be concerned about than that of a braggart consumed by pride and stupidity.
Soon our journey ended at a little station in the woods. The portly SS man who had taken us to the train appeared in the door and instructed us to depart. I stepped onto the platform. I knew we were at the Führer’s headquarters, but no buildings were visible. Another train sat on a siding nearby. The station was surrounded by a thicket ripe with trees and bushes. Bugs swarmed around our heads in the clammy air. The officer led us down a wooded path where small bunkers and huts, hidden by camouflage, appeared among the vegetation. In a few minutes, we reached a checkpoint where a young guard asked the SS man for a password. The guard then studied our identification papers, told us to drop our bags and turn in a circle. We did so and he seemed satisfied. I imagined he was looking for bulges in our clothing where we might conceal a weapon. He searched our purses and bags. Confident that we had no weapons, he handed us a small passport for the Wolf’s Lair and ordered us to keep it with us at all times. Then we passed through the gate of an electrified fence.
We moved on, following the SS man, through the woods until we came to a section where the bunkers were more visible. These low, fortified structures extended into the forest on both sides as far as I could see. Camouflage netting hung over everything, a protection against air attacks. The camp also supported a few buildings made of wood and concrete that looked more like meeting halls with windows.
At last we came to an unpleasant structure. It had small windows on its façade, which was buttressed by a heavy iron door. As marginally inviting as the outside appeared, the inside conjured thoughts of hell. My lungs sucked in warm and humid air in the cramped space. I felt as if I were breathing through a damp towel.
The officer directed us down a narrow hall that reminded me of pictures I’d seen of steamship interiors. He opened a second enclosure and a series of smaller wooden doors appeared ahead on both sides. The last room on the right was ours. He flipped a switch. A single bulb covered by a green metal shade cast a triangular patch of light on the floor. Four beds, two on each side of the room, were positioned against the walls. A locker sat next to each bed. The accommodations made my room at the Berghof seem like a palace. The room here contained barely enough space for the beds, let alone four women. There were no windows. I took a deep breath and fought against the sickening claustrophobia that jabbed at me from all sides.
“These are our quarters?” Minna asked the SS man with obvious distaste.
Again, I wanted to laugh because the first of her illusions had been shattered. The bunker’s living conditions were far from what Minna had described to Else as the “best accommodations.”
The officer glared at her. “You’re lucky to be here. Don’t complain if you have any sense.” With that admonition, he left. I inspected the room. Except for the beds—four small-framed cots covered with gray blankets—and the lockers, the room was empty. One of the beds was already taken. The sheets were neatly folded down. A leather bag sat under its middle.
Air circulated with a whoosh through a vent located in the room’s ceiling. This annoying mechanical feature kept us alive underneath thick layers of concrete and earth.
Else threw her bag on a bed and began to cry.
“Hush up,” Minna said. “Weeping will do you no good.”
“I can’t live here,” Else said. “No one told us his headquarters would be like this. I expected it to be like the Reich Chancellery.” She collapsed on her bed. The Berlin Chancellery was vast and opulent, with the finest furnishings, paintings and carpets. Open-air gardens surrounded the buildings. Here, we were reduced to living like subterranean animals.
I claimed the bed nearest the door and put my bag under it. Even I was dismayed at the conditions we were being forced to live in. “I’m sure we’ll spend a lot of time away from this room—for our own good.” I felt emboldened by my seniority. “I’m going for a walk. No one said we had to remain inside.”
Else looked at me as if I were deserting her. She leaned forward on her cot. “May I go with you? I don’t care if there are bugs. I feel sick.”
I didn’t want her tagging along because I hoped to run into Karl, but the door opened and my plan was interrupted. A pallid young woman who looked as if she had spent too much time inside the bunker stepped into the room. She had a thin nose and large eyes. She could have been pretty, but in the harsh light she looked tired and washed out. I could tell her hair had been lightened by coloring.
“I’m Dora,” she said, and extended her hand to me because I was nearest to her. I introduced myself while Minna sized up Dora in her bird-like way. Else smiled and wiped at her tears, pleased to see another woman who might be a friend.
“Who are you?” Minna asked, seating herself like a queen on the remaining bed.
Dora’s eyes narrowed. She had the same reaction to Minna that I did. “Dora Schiffer, the Head Taster at the Wolf’s Lair.” She looked at Minna and Else. “You two must be the new girls. You are to come with me to be introduced to the cook and the rest of the staff. Magda, you will be in the kitchen at seven to taste. You have the rest of the day free to do as you wish.” Minna scowled. “We take orders from you?”
Dora folded her arms. “Yes.”
“We shall see,” Minna muttered.
“There’s nothing to see,” Dora said, “because I outrank you in every way. You are under my charge. This is my room and it’s up to me to make sure you do your duty.” She reached into a pocket on her dress and pulled out a book similar to the one we’d been given at the gate. She passed it around the room. Dora was an SS member. According to the markings in her book, she had previously been assigned to a place I didn’t recognize—Treblinka.
“Do we have time to freshen up?” Minna asked.
“Make it fast,” Dora said. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall.” After Minna and Else left the room, Dora stood in the doorway and looked at me. “So, I have at least one troublemaker to deal with. Enjoy the day, but be careful not to venture beyond the fences. There are three perimeters around headquarters. Guards with dogs are posted every thirty meters. They will ask you for your papers.” She brushed a finger across her lip. “Land mines surround the Wolf’s Lair. Be careful. A foolish mistake could cost you your life.” She studied me as if she were interrogating me.
I stared back.
“Heil Hitler.” She closed the door and left me alone.
I gave them plenty of time to find their way out. Apparently, this residence was for women only. I found a bathroom with shower stalls not far from our door, and an office and small library that had been constructed near the entrance. The latter had windows that looked out on the headquarters grounds. The view was limited to the forest, but the windows were screened and open. No hint of a breeze came in through the mesh.
I sat in one of the cushioned library chairs and pondered my fate. Sweat formed on my face and arms in the late morning heat, even though the sun was muted by the netting and leafy trees. It was as if a green pall had been cast over the headquarters. Only the buzzing of the mosquitoes and flies that pressed their black bodies against the screens entered my ears. Still, I imagined sleeping here would be better than in my cramped room.
I got out of the chair and perused the books on the shelves. Most were German history and mythology; others, on topics of science. I wondered if they were Hitler’s or had been placed here by someone else. One title in particular attracted my attention: The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. Faint recollections from my schooling flitted through my mind. I didn’t remember much of what the book was about, so I opened it and turned to the overleaf. The page was stamped in black ink with the Nazi eagle and engraved: Given to the women of the Wolf�
�s Lair by the Führer. Hitler had signed his name below the inscription. I put the book back on the shelf and left the room.
I walked quickly down the path outside my quarters, swatting at the flies that buzzed around me. One could hardly enjoy the day outside with such pests. They landed on my arms, my face, any exposed skin, nearly covering me. The humid scent of the woods filled the air. As I stood, unsure of which direction to go, it became clear to me why Hitler had chosen this particular spot for his eastern headquarters. Unlike the scenic majesty of the Berghof, the Wolf’s Lair was a swamp in a godforsaken land. No enemy of the Reich could reach it except through fierce fighting in the inhospitable terrain—if they could find it.
It was almost eleven and my stomach growled. I had eaten two small meals on the train, but it had been many hours since I’d had food or drink. I headed east and skirted the fence that enclosed our area in the woods, the inner perimeter Dora referred to. Members of the RSD, an SS security force, were stationed at checkpoints around the fence. Many high-ranking SS men walked through along the path, but I saw no women. I stopped at a checkpoint and asked the guard for directions to the mess hall. He asked me for my papers and, satisfied that I belonged within the compound, told me how I could find it, which was several hundred meters away.
I walked past several buildings until I reached it, constructed of concrete and stone, low to the ground, although not a bunker. It had windows, and was more pleasant inside than my quarters. Long tables and chairs were lined up in three straight rows. The large kitchen in the back bustled with activity. An orderly opened a double door and gave me a peek at the gleaming stoves and other appliances inside. Minna and Else were nowhere to be seen, but I recognized a man, a cook from the Berghof.
Fruit and oatmeal sat on the hall serving table, so I helped myself and topped them with milk and honey. The men and women at the Wolf’s Lair, like those at Hitler’s mountain residence, were well fed.
I sat by myself at one of the long tables, for breakfast was long over for most of the staff. I was enjoying my food when someone tapped my shoulder. It was Karl.
I wanted to jump up from my seat and kiss him, but he kept his hand firmly pressed upon my shoulder. “Don’t smile or act as if you are friendly with me.” His voice was tight and controlled.
I ate another bite of oatmeal and kept my face forward while he stood behind me. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, too, Captain Weber.”
“Please, Magda, don’t joke. The situation is more dangerous than you can imagine. Meet me at ten tonight by the cinema and I’ll explain.”
“Dora Schiffer is keeping track of us. She seems a strict disciplinarian.”
After a brief silence, Karl sighed and then said, “Oh, you’ve met. Tell her you’re going to the movie and you’ll be back when it’s over.”
I nodded and turned my head to catch a glimpse of him as he strode through the door. I finished my food, took my dishes back to the serving table and left the mess hall. I walked back to my quarters, but couldn’t force myself to go into my room. I sat in the empty library and thought of my father’s words about how Germany was shrinking because of Hitler’s actions. It was true. I felt more and more like a captive, even though I worked for the most powerful man in Europe. I worried about Karl as well. Melancholy shrouded me like an immense dark cloud. I fidgeted in the chair and studied the book titles on the shelves until I dozed into an uneasy sleep. When I awoke, Dora Schiffer was standing in the doorway smiling at me.
“I wish to talk to you about Ursula Thalberg’s poisoning,” she said, and my heart leapt into my throat.
* * *
Dora was well acquainted with interrogation techniques. Like the woman in Berchtesgaden who worked for the Reichsbund, Dora asked me every question on a list prepared by the Reich, and also a few of her own. Most of them I’d answered before, but some I hadn’t. She was particularly curious about the relationships I had with the staff at the Wolf’s Lair. I told her the truth, but I did not embellish my answers: I knew Cook and Captain Weber from my work at the Berghof, and many of the kitchen workers who were transferred here to serve the Führer. Dora asked me about Ursula—the second time I’d been questioned at length about my former roommate and her poisoning. She concluded her questioning by telling me I should be wary of Minna. The new taster, she said, was a woman who was out to work her way up through the Reich by finding favor with Hitler—of that, Dora was certain. Any misstep and Minna would find herself out of a job and back in Berlin. After listening to Dora, I believed that Minna could find herself in far worse circumstances than out of a job. Before Dora left, she reiterated her order for me to be at the kitchen before seven, the same one I’d been in earlier in the day.
After she had dismissed me, I returned to my room, stored my things, showered and changed into fresh clothes. Minna and Else were missing, and I wondered if Cook was already instructing them on poisons.
When I arrived at the kitchen, I found the two women sitting against the wall still dressed in the clothes they’d worn on the train. They looked exhausted from their day spent with a cook named Otto, whom I had seen at the Berghof. Hitler liked the way Otto prepared eggs and had snatched him from a sanatorium where he worked. I asked about Cook and was told that she was not feeling well and wouldn’t be working tonight.
Minna and Else said nothing, only stared at me, as Otto set up the dishes to be served to Hitler. The July fruits and vegetables were in season. Most of them had been shipped from the Berghof greenhouses. A steaming egg and potato dish sat at the center of the table. Otto nodded for me to begin. First I smelled the food and then tasted it. I ate fresh cucumbers and tomatoes, green beans and boiled potatoes with parsley before I came to the egg dish. A mushroom sat next to it. I wasn’t sure whether it was poisonous, but I didn’t want my lack of memory or courage to slow my work. I lifted a large spoonful of the egg dish and smelled it. An inviting, creamy scent filled my nostrils; I decided it was safe to eat. It tasted delicious: warm, buttery and fulfilling.
I continued down the line tasting strawberries, apple cake and an iced cake I’d never eaten before. After I was through, Otto took the dishes away, but left the mushroom on the table. As was the case after most tastings, my stomach felt full. I sat next to Else and she gripped my hand. I turned to look at her. Her bead-like eyes flickered with fear.
“The egg dish contained poisonous mushrooms,” she whispered.
I wanted to laugh. How ridiculous would it be for a cook to poison a taster? “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course he would.” Minna stared smugly at me.
A few moments later, Dora Schiffer propped her thin frame against the kitchen door. She waved her long arms at Minna and Else and they got up to follow her. Dora returned a short time later and asked, “How are you feeling? You look a little pale.” She towered over me like a tall beanstalk.
“Fine,” I said, beginning to wonder if I had been wrong.
“Remain seated, just to be safe.”
I watched as the staff transferred many of the dishes I’d tasted to serving platters and then took them away for Hitler’s eight o’clock dinner. Soon a sweat broke out on my brow and my heart pounded fiercely. Overwhelmed by nausea, I clutched my chair.
Dora noticed and came to my side. “Something’s wrong,” I told her. I reached for the table but, instead, slipped off the chair onto my knees.
Dora clapped her hands and Otto ran from the kitchen. He leaned over me. “Feeling poorly?” he asked.
“What did you do to me?” I groaned and doubled over in pain.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Otto said. “You should take nothing for granted.”
My head swam in a vicious circle and I retched on the floor, unable to control my stomach. Otto’s round face stared down at me. He seemed more interested in my reaction to the poison than helping. I collapsed in a heap and the world went black.
CHAPTER 9
A man stood by my bedside when I awoke in
the headquarters medical facility. The room blazed with light from the overhead bulbs. I wondered how long I’d been unconscious. My stomach ached and my parched throat longed for water. I blinked and Karl’s blurry form came into focus. He smiled at me piteously and then sat in a chair next to the bed.
“What time is it?” My voice hardly carried above a whisper.
“Almost noon,” Karl said. He handed me a glass of water. “Take a drink—it will do you good. You’ve vomited everything out of your body. They used a stomach pump as well. I came as soon as I heard. I’ve been here all night.” He punched his fist against his thigh. “I should kill that thug for what he did to you.”
I sipped the water. The cool liquid soothed my throat.
“He deliberately poisoned you,” he said. “Otto put poisonous mushrooms in the dish—not the kind that can kill, only make you ill. It was a game for him. His clue was the mushroom near the food. Cook was furious when she found out. She went directly to the Führer. He was less than sympathetic. He told Cook he understood the pain you must be going through, but such actions were for the good of the Reich and the protection of its leader. He said such tests were a valuable training tool. They taught the other tasters not to be complacent.”
In an odd way, Hitler was right, although I hated to admit it. “Have I lost my job?” I tried to lift my head, but the room spun in a circle.
“No. You’re still on staff, but you’ll be doing inventory for a few weeks until you recover. That bastard cook—he’s a street brawler like the rest of them. They have no morals, no compunction against killing their own citizens. They’ll destroy everything.” Karl’s voice rose as he talked. I had enough sense to lift a finger to my lips. What he was saying was dangerous, even though we seemed to be alone.
He clutched my hand and his fingers felt warm against mine. I wanted to kiss him.
“I have to leave. I’m happy that you’re better.” His eyes took me in from head to toe. “We need to talk, but it’s better to wait until you’re stronger.”
The Taster Page 10
