“Does Hitler really care about art?”
The professor smiled. “You seem to have forgotten that he once was an artist himself.”
Conrad made a gesture of contempt and the professor smiled again. “Have you seen any of his pictures?”
“No.”
“I have. Some of his watercolors are very delicately done.”
“Do you really mean this?”
“So delicately done that they scared me. The contrast between those sentimental, petit bourgeois pictures and what the rest of the man is – my God, Dehmel, the split in his personality must be appalling.”
Conrad looked out the window to a pigeon bobbing its head as it strutted along the window ledge. The bird suddenly took off and flew out of sight and Conrad looked back again to Professor Rosenthal.
“In other words, you’re telling me he’s insane.”
“If he loses his war he’ll certainly be called insane. But if he wins it?” He shrugged. “As for his henchmen, hardly one of them would get a job with any responsible business company in the land. By themselves they’re scum. But they’re gamblers and he gives them the confidence to believe they can’t lose. Are you familiar with the work of Professor Oster in Princeton?”
“Isn’t he the comparative philologist?”
“That’s the man. He and I have had a correspondence for quite a few years and thanks to him I expect to be going to America soon. I have been offered a post in the Flexner Institute in Princeton. But to return to Oster.
“He understands some fifty languages, but what sets him apart is that he has used them to study the common denominators in cultures. It seems important to Oster that in every culture – even in subcultures – gambling has always been a favorite pastime.”
Conrad had no idea where this was leading and said so. The professor continued.
“Like most of us, I had assumed that gambling is simply a stupid habit leading to a waste of time and money. But as Oster sees it, gambling for pleasure is a sport and like all sports it’s a sublimation of a profound instinct. Without it we’d still be in the trees. The biggest gamble in our evolution must have happened when our forebears came out of the trees and took their chances on the ground with the snakes and the lions. If these pedants who talk about the ‘laws of history’ understood the role of the gambling instinct, maybe they’d understand what makes history. Hitler and his gang, every man-jack of them, they’re not only gamblers but gamblers on an enormous scale and so far they’ve been lucky. And against them what do we see? Not one among the present leaders of France and England. Not one among our German communists.” He gave a contemptuous shrug. “Lenin was a prime gambler, but Thaelmann and the rest of our communists were doctrinaire bureaucrats. That’s why they’re dead or in concentration camps.”
Conrad was confused and said nothing. Neither did the professor, and Conrad interpreted his silence as a signal that the interview was over. He looked at his watch, got to his feet, and apologized for having overstayed his time. But the professor had been thinking of something else.
“Not at all, Dehmel. My packing is almost finished and I was hoping you’d have lunch with me.”
“I’d be honored, sir, but surely –”
Rosenthal waved the protest aside. “My last lunch in Berlin – I would not like to take it alone. But as it would be difficult to talk of serious business while we’re walking to the restaurant, and inadvisable to talk seriously about anything when we get there, I think there are a few matters I should tell you before we leave.”
Conrad sat down again and said, “When I told you I intended to refuse this position, I meant it.”
“And when I advised you not to refuse, I also meant it.”
“But why?”
“Take my word for it.”
Thinking of Hanna again, realizing even more what a blunder he had made in coming home, he said, “Why can’t I go to America myself?”
“Because you didn’t think of it before you came home and accepted a job here.” The professor twinkled. “However, when in the course of human events – as the Americans would say – you should wish to come to America at a time when it would be safe for you to escape from here, don’t hesitate to let me know. My friend Einstein has also been invited to Princeton. I’ll be seeing him in Brussels in a few days.”
“Will even Einstein have to leave Europe?”
“Yes, and for stronger reasons than any of the rest of us. You know, Dehmel, Einstein is the least worldly man I have ever met. He’s not at all like me. Now I suppose I’ll have to spend the rest of my life in an ivory tower working on the history of art, and I assure you that the ivory tower is not a habitat that suits my temperament. For Einstein, of course, it would be perfect. He could continue to dream in higher mathematics and play his violin badly and listen to Mozart played well and take his rambles in the countryside and forget where he was after he had lost himself in contemplation of a wildflower or a snowflake. Such a life would be perfect for Einstein and this I find sad. Because for him of all people the ivory tower will be impossible.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You were in Göttingen, were you not? Surely you know what the physicists are up to these days? I was told that you know Heisenberg personally.”
“I met him several times, but I can’t claim to know him.”
“As I mentioned before, I pity Heisenberg. Such an aristocratic mind must despise the Nazis, but the Nazis will crave his knowledge. At any rate, those marvellously innocent, intricate equations of Einstein’s finally resolved themselves into a single conclusion so small that it could be printed in large letters on a postage stamp. Yet out of that equation there may come – I’m told by experts that it’s sure to come – the means of producing a small sample of the primal force which exploded the original matter of the universe. I don’t have to tell you that at no period in the history of the world could it have come at a worse time than now.”
Conrad sat still, his mind churning. The professor then remarked that there were some details about the Institut that he should tell him and for the next half-hour he gave a factual description of the organization as it had been during his own time there. He then discussed some of the men who would be Conrad’s colleagues and finally Conrad interrupted him.
“But these men are all senior to me by years. It would be intolerable for them to have a young man like me as their Director.”
“Under normal circumstances it certainly would be intolerable, but the present circumstances aren’t normal. All but two of them are frightened men. The two who aren’t have a great admiration for the military, and for Hitler. But there are three men who I think will be reasonable.”
Conrad shook his head. “No, I can’t.”
“I’m not saying it will be pleasant for you. But if you are tactful and very careful, there are at least three colleagues who would understand and even respect your personal position. Before I leave, I intend to speak to them about you.”
“Sir, this grows worse and worse.”
“You will discover ways. I suppose you know that the department which now controls this institution is the Ministry of Public Enlightenment?”
“Goebbels?”
“Of course.”
Conrad felt sick. He also felt more frightened than he had ever been in his life.
“Is there no way I can get out of this? I’m determined to refuse it. I’d be in an impossible situation.”
The professor, who had managed most of the time to look cheerful, now looked grim.
“Dehmel, I’ve decided that I like you. I’ve warned you twice not to refuse. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. These people are insecure. If you refuse they will take it very personally.”
Conrad looked at the floor, his pipe cold in his hand. “When am I supposed to begin working here?”
“On the first day of next week.”
Conrad looked up, feeling sudden relief. “In that case I’ll return to Englan
d tomorrow.”
“Poor man! Do you seriously believe you would be allowed to leave?”
“Would they know?”
“They would know, all right. You are a German citizen and that makes you a property of the state. You accepted a position here while you were still abroad. You may be sure they have made many enquiries about you before you came home. Now, by coming home, you have signalled to them that you have accepted them and approve of them.” Suddenly Rosenthal laughed. “By God, that could be the reason why they appointed you Director!”
Conrad was aghast and felt weak at the back of the knees.
“Perhaps I was wrong in thinking that your father’s rank had anything to do with their decision. Men like Goebbels have a fanatical hatred and jealousy of the old military and naval castes. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter what their motives were. You’re here, and they won’t let you go.”
Conrad was breathing heavily. “But what can I do? What can I do now?”
“Learn to dissimulate, like millions of others. You know the old tag – qui non vult dissimulare, non potest regnare. In your case it will not be a matter of dissimulating in order to rule, but in order to survive. It won’t come easily to you, which is one reason why I like you. But I’m afraid you have no other choice.”
A long silence fell between them and Conrad sensed the older man’s sadness. This man whose work he had reverenced, on whom he had pinned so many of his own hopes – it was shattering to see him treated like this and talking like this. He thought of Hanna and wondered whether he would ever see her again. She had known the truth, had told him the truth, had even warned him that Rosenthal would be dismissed, but because he had been so set in the tradition of the old German scholarship he had refused to believe her. He could almost hear the clang of the gate as it shut on him.
Professor Rosenthal had risen to his feet and was smiling again. “Alors, mon cher Dehmel, allons au déjeuner.”
SIX
Two days later Conrad rented a small furnished apartment not far from his parents. All he had to do to settle in was to order his book boxes from the station, unpack them, and hang up and put into drawers his clothes. If he had to get out in a hurry his books would have to be sacrificed.
The next evening his mother telephoned to say that his father had returned from Kiel and wished to see him, but that he was very tired and would have to be at his desk at 0730 hours the next morning. Conrad was to meet him in the Admiralty at l145 hours and he wondered what this might mean. His father was so methodical that he must have a reason for such a particular time.
It was another bright morning with a cool breeze flooding the streets as Conrad walked through central Berlin toward the Admiralty. There was a tang of autumn in the air and this clear wind had blown down across the Baltic from Scandinavia. Tension had been growing in him steadily since he had said good-bye to Professor Rosenthal and he hoped that a brisk walk would ease some of it. Under his present circumstances a meeting with his father might easily be traumatic.
When he reached the Admiralty the warrant officer on duty at the doors was expecting him. He was a rugged, cheerful, brown-faced sailor in his middle forties and when Conrad told him he had an appointment with Captain Dehmel, he smiled broadly.
“Rear-Admiral Dehmel, Herr Doktor. Your father’s promotion became official this morning and we’re very happy about it here. I had the honor to serve in the same ship with your Herr Vater in the war. I served in ‘Bertha turret’ – she was the second one forward and the only one that was not destroyed. Your Herr Vater was the finest gunnery officer in the fleet.”
“That says much.”
“With respect, Herr Doktor, it says more than anyone who was not there could ever know.”
“A sailor I met on the Albert Ballin on the way home told me the same thing.”
“And now he’s Rear-Admiral.”
Conrad was passed on to another sailor who led him to his father’s room. A male secretary was inside, a lieutenant in uniform, who asked him to take a seat and said that the Rear-Admiral would be back very soon. Five minutes later he was. Conrad rose, father and son shook hands, and whatever emotion the father felt on seeing his son after these years was compressed into a single sentence:
“I’m glad you decided to come home.”
Conrad congratulated his father on his new rank, Gottfried Dehmel nodded, and they both sat down, the father behind his desk. He turned to the lieutenant and said, “Dismissed for two hours, Richter.” The lieutenant left the room and the father surveyed the son and the son the father.
Gottfried Dehmel had reached the time in a lean man’s life when at last his age was beginning to show. The scar on his cheekbone where the sailor had struck him now seemed a natural part of his face. His forehead was at least an inch higher than it had been three years ago, his hair was grizzled, and he had shaved off his moustache and small, spiked beard. He had never been a heavy man, but now his body was so wiry it made Conrad think of “a network of finely integrated nerves held in place by the armor of lean, hard muscles.” He asked his father if his back still troubled him.
“Much less. I have found a Swedish physiotherapist who has done wonders. The sciatic pain has gone and he has taught me exercises to control the muscles which support the spinal column. Much more is known about backs these days. How did you find your mother?”
“As always.”
“Yes,” Gottfried Dehmel said quietly, “as always.” He looked down at his desk and toyed with a pencil. “I have been told that you have been appointed Director of the Institut.” He raised his officer’s eyes and looked at Conrad severely. “Is this correct?”
“It seems that it’s true, but it’s not correct.”
“It certainly isn’t. You must refuse it.”
“I told Professor Rosenthal that I wished to refuse it.”
“Then you have not refused it officially?”
“He told me I’m in no position to do so. He said that Dr. Goebbels would take a refusal as a deliberate insubordination and insult.”
The Rear-Admiral’s face gave an involuntary twitch of disgust. He looked down at his desk and again the fingers of his right hand toyed with a pencil.
“There are some things these days that I don’t –” he decided not to finish the sentence and changed it to another. “However, you can avoid this embarrassment if you volunteer for the services.”
“I have not been trained for the services, Father.”
“I wasn’t thinking of the routine services. I was thinking of the Intelligence. A scholar’s training is just what’s required there. Thank God the Abwehr has been retained by the navy. Its Chief is a most remarkable man. In the last war he served in the Dresden and later in submarines and Intelligence. I suppose you know the record of the Dresden?”
“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.”
Gottfried Dehmel frowned. “People forget too quickly. She was the only light cruiser to escape when the English finished off poor von Spee in the South Atlantic. She dodged the English for nearly four months until they trapped her at Juan Fernandez Island. Her entire crew was interned by the Chilean authorities and put in a camp on the island. This officer escaped to the mainland and walked through the Andes in winter. He reached Buenos Aires and got passage back to Europe on a neutral ship. After that he began his intelligence work in Spain. A man very rare, Conrad, very remarkable.” He glanced at his watch. “I will introduce you to him at 1230 hours. We may even have lunch together, the three of us. We hold the same rank, but he is senior to me and much more influential.”
“But I have no intention –”
“We can discuss that later. Meanwhile, I believe you have little confidence in our navy. Well, let me assure you that if you serve as I suggest, you will become a part of something far more valuable to your country than you realize. I’m permitted to show you certain things on the understanding that you don’t talk to anyone else about them. Will you give me your word?”
&n
bsp; “That will depend on what you tell me.”
“It will be nothing dishonorable or political.”
“Then I give you my word.”
“Intelligence, to begin with. Ours was generally bad in the last war and the English made fools of it. Let me promise you it won’t be bad the next time.”
Gottfried Dehmel went on to describe the kind of navy he and his brother officers were planning. He never raised his voice but his eyes shone with pride as he spoke. There would be five, possibly eight, of the most powerful battleships ever built, ships so strong they boggled the mind. They would be constructed of specially hardened steel and would be divided into so many watertight compartments that a torpedo on their flanks would be no more dangerous than a bee sting.
(Conrad’s note: “I had a vision of hundreds of men frying like pork in those labyrinths of specially hardened steel when great shells pierced their armor and exploded inside. In the case of two of them, this is precisely what happened a few years later.”)
His father was going on: Two super-battleships faster and stronger than anything the English had would be ready in eighteen months. The three ships the English called pocket battleships were ready even now. Splendid new heavy cruisers, more than two hundred submarines, even aircraft carriers much more modern than the antiquated ones the English had. As the English would have to disperse their ships to guard their trade routes, a fast German squadron could pick its own moment to break out. It could concentrate at sea and be refuelled and revictualled by supply ships. It would be fast enough to avoid any stronger concentration and strong enough to destroy any force weaker. In this way England could be starved into making peace. But above all there would be a signalling system unlike anything ever known. It would be lightning fast, it would be infallible, and its codes would be unbreakable. This was the ultimate secret weapon the Leader had spoken about. Its details, of course, he could not reveal to anyone.
Voices in Time Page 29
