by Alan Judd
Neither the Kaiser nor the Princess seemed interested, at that time, in exercising their right to leave the estate. They were not under arrest; Krebbs’s orders were clear on that point. There were lunch and dinner parties for visiting friends – one exclusively Dutch but generally mixed German and Dutch – whose names and addresses had to be noted by the duty corporal, with Krebbs sending the list to HQ at the end of each week. So far as he could see, the invasion had made little difference to the Kaiser’s social life; the Dutch still ate at his table. Krebbs also kept his own private log of sightings and events, in addition to his normal daily diary notes of his own times of rising, running and bathing. His diary was a black, leather-covered book which he had numbered fifteen, its predecessors being kept at home in Leipzig with his mother. It was a pleasure to think that in them was recorded for posterity every noteworthy event of his life from childhood onwards. Every external event, anyway; Krebbs had never sought to chart an interior life of whose importance he was unconvinced, and of whose very existence he was not sure he approved. You were what you did; the rest was froth. In one six-day period he noted nine sightings of Akki, referring to her as X and saying nothing else about her.
On the seventh morning a motorcycle despatch rider brought a signal from HQ SS in Holland. Marked ‘Secret and Personal’, it told him that, according to ‘information received’, the British government wished to persuade the Kaiser to defect to England, where his presence could be presented as a blow to the prestige and legitimacy of the Third Reich. They would exfiltrate him by secret means if he were willing, but it was thought possible they might consider abducting him if he were not. That would enable them to show the world that they could do as they pleased in German-occupied Europe. Winston Churchill, the British leader and principal war-monger, knew the Kaiser and had ordered that an invitation be secretly conveyed to him. It was understood that ‘measures were already in train’ to assess the Kaiser’s attitude to such a proposal. This could mean that a trusted member of his entourage, or one of his regular visitors, was an English sympathiser.
Krebbs was therefore ordered to move with immediate effect into Huis Doorn itself and to ensure that the activities of the Kaiser’s household were supervised and their attitudes observed and reported. He was to establish an armed physical presence in the house and to ensure that full identifying details of all visitors, as well as all other communications, were reported directly to HQ SS and not, as at present, forwarded from the Wehrmacht unit to which he was attached. He was not to reveal the real purpose of these changes but was to explain them by reference to the fact that the Luftwaffe fighter HQ was sited between Doorn and Utrecht and was believed to be a target for English saboteurs who might, if they were frustrated there, seek to murder the Kaiser.
The final paragraph complained that Krebbs’s report on the Kaiser’s attitude towards the Reich had still not been received at HQ SS, though it was known that the Wehrmacht had it. Finally – strictly for his information only – it was possible that a very senior leader might soon visit the Kaiser; details would follow in due course. Meanwhile, a sanitised version of this signal would be sent to Krebbs’s Wehrmacht unit so that they were aware of the changes to be made and were reminded of the need to give Krebbs their fullest co-operation. If he experienced any problems he was to let HQ SS know at once.
Krebbs acknowledged the signal and immediately acted as instructed. After checking the correctness of his appearance, he marched across the park to the house to see von Islemann, the Kaiser’s private secretary. It was eight-thirty in the morning, clear and bright, and the daily household prayers were just finishing in the vestibule. The Kaiser himself led the household in prayer and Krebbs listened from beyond the door to the rising and falling of his voice in practised modulation. Divorced from his words and from the Kaiser’s habit of frequent heavy emphasis in conversation, it was a good voice, still – at his age – a fine and flexible instrument. People who had known him from his youth apparently described him as a natural artist who had never found his art. Listening to the prayers, with their incantations and murmured responses, reminded Krebbs of his own Catholic childhood. His mother and sister still went to mass but there had been few Catholics where they lived and as Krebbs grew up he increasingly disliked feeling different; he wanted to be like other people, so he left religion behind him.
After a scraping of chairs the doors opened and fifteen to twenty people came out. The household was larger than he had realised; more therefore to check on. A few left with the Kaiser through the door at the far end but most filed past Krebbs. They must have been surprised to see him, but they ignored him. Von Islemann and Akki came out simultaneously. He saw that she saw him but addressed himself immediately to von Islemann. They stood aside from the others. Their exchange was businesslike, correct and formal, not hostile but with no suggestion of ease or amiability. People shuffled past with faces averted, as in obvious demonstration that they were trying not to overhear. When Krebbs gave the authorised reason for the change, von Islemann nodded. Nothing seemed to surprise him.
‘So, we are to be supervised for our own good, put under guard for our own protection?’
‘That is correct.’
‘And we must beware of English spies and saboteurs?’
The careful way von Islemann spoke made Krebbs feel he was being made fun of. His own speech became more officious. ‘We must be watchful at all times, especially for English sympathisers.’
Von Islemann raised his eyebrows. ‘Excluding, presumably, His Highness himself?’
Krebbs was installed in Huis Doorn by lunchtime. What he called his command post and what von Islemann called his office was the desk in the library corridor adjacent to the Kaiser’s study and day-room. It had a telephone, monogrammed with the royal arms, and his position in the corridor meant that he could monitor access to the Kaiser. He could also observe the comings and goings of the staff, particularly the maids. Outside, on either side of the terrace in front of the house, the Dutch guard had built two semi-cellars, like unobtrusive blockhouses. Krebbs commandeered them to house whichever section he nominated for house duty. His platoon comprised three sections, which would mean one in and around the house with the other two based in the lodge, one on perimeter and grounds guard, the third resting or on fatigues. To prevent staleness, he would rotate them every few days. He was given a small room to himself in the basement, with a camp bed and just off the kitchen, a good, central point from which to cope with any trouble at night.
Later that morning the sky clouded over and it began to rain. The Kaiser put on his cape and fed his ducks on the moat, breaking the bread small and throwing it one piece at a time into the rain-dappled water. He did not go to his woodshed but spent the rest of the morning in his study, seated at his white, sloping desk with the adjustable saddle seat. He had one visitor, a Dutch doctor of horticultural science whom he evidently knew and who came to discuss the rosarium. Krebbs listened from outside the open door as they discussed the moving of more roses into the late Princess’s garden. The Kaiser surprised Krebbs with his deep knowledge of flowers. The horticulturist remarked that there were now some 14,432 roses in the rosarium and in other parts of the estate. Krebbs noted the figure, along with details of the visitor and the exact time of his visit.
The many clocks made it a house of chimes, bells and tinkles. No two agreed precisely, and the ragged musical salvoes on the hour and half hour offended Krebbs’s sense of order. While the clocks were variously announcing one o’clock, the Kaiser emerged from his study. Krebbs sprang to attention, as for a senior officer. He could not help himself.
The Kaiser had just lit a cigarette. There was humour in his watery blue eyes. ‘So, now I have the privilege of a close guard?’
‘Your Highness, the High Command –’
‘The High Command is worried that I might be murdered by my Dutch hosts, who have tolerated my presence for over twenty years? Or bombed by the dastardly English in a last desp
erate throw before inevitable defeat? Or abducted on the orders of my second cousin, their king, perhaps? Or on the orders of my old acquaintance, Mr Winston Churchill, whom I knew as a pushy young man when most of the High Command were in their nappies?’ He chuckled and puffed on his cigarette; the ash fell unregarded, the smoke coiled and expanded in the weak sunlight that now came through the window behind him. ‘Very likely, very likely.’
He transferred his cigarette to his other hand and gripped Krebbs’s shoulder, shaking him gently but irresistibly. ‘Not that I object in any way, you understand. I am pleased that the High Command still thinks of me as of sufficient importance to merit close guard. And it is good that you are here; we shall have enjoyable conversations. You are properly accommodated, I trust? If you have any problems, speak to von Islemann. He is a good fellow even if, like me, he is incurably ancien régime.’
With his hand still on Krebbs’s shoulder, they walked slowly downstairs to lunch. Krebbs felt almost as if he were under arrest. He stopped at the door. ‘Your Highness, am I to join you for lunch?’
‘Of course, dear boy, of course. You are part of the household now. Besides, how could you guard me if you did not? Suppose you had to explain to the High Command that I had been abducted over my soup?’ He laughed and flicked ash into the air.
The Princess and von Islemann were already there. Neither betrayed any surprise at seeing Krebbs, for whom a servant discreetly laid an extra place while they stood by the window discussing the rosarium. It occurred to Krebbs that the Kaiser would make an easy target in the window for a sniper hidden on the perimeter of the park, or in the woods. He would have to think of such things now but, the trouble was, there was no end to them.
They sat down to a vegetable soup that looked ordinary enough but tasted better than anything Krebbs had had since mobilisation. The silver spoons and the imperial porcelain from which they ate seemed to emphasise the tastiness and he had to force himself not to eat too fast. The talk was still of roses.
Akki was one of the two maids who cleared the soup plates and served the fish to follow. He did not allow himself to look at her but when her arm reached over his shoulder for his bowl, his neck tingled. He had never been like this about a girl before. If he looked to his right he would meet the eye of the portly major-domo, overseeing the servants. If he looked to his left he would see Akki serving the Princess her fish. If he looked straight across, the Kaiser would think he was staring at him. He looked up instead, examining the portraits on the wall. There were two of the Kaiser, both minus his scar, and they were flanked by one of the late Princess and one of her successor. He was still aware of Akki’s bowed head, with her straight centre parting and her tight bun, as she served von Islemann.
‘If you are so engrossed by the picture, Herr Leutnant, what I wonder would you have to say to the original?’ he heard the Princess say. Her plump wrinkled face smiled with disconcerting coquetry. It was as if she had put on a silly hat and now sought compliments.
‘It is a very good likeness, your Highness,’ he said.
‘It does you less than justice, my sweet,’ pronounced the Kaiser emphatically. ‘I have always said so.’
‘You flatter me, my dear. The Herr Leutnant is sadly all too correct. It is a faithful likeness of its all too rapidly fading subject.’
All except the servants turned to look up at the paintings. The major-domo whispered to Akki as she left the room.
‘Nonsense, my dear,’ said the Kaiser. ‘But it must be admitted that those of me are better. I must be easier to capture – in oils, that is. Thanks to Untersturmführer Krebbs I am at this moment harder to capture in other ways. Eh?’ He laughed. Everyone else smiled.
The Princess addressed Krebbs again, her lips still stretched in a smile. ‘I hope we may capture an important guest soon. Someone who will be well known to you, I believe. I have been writing to friends and using my influence.’
‘You must use influence sparingly, my dear,’ said the Kaiser, ‘and be careful with anything in writing. Sooner or later such things always come to light and may do harm. It is not wise to run after these Nazis too obviously. Their reich will not last a thousand years, whatever they say, and anyway if you chase them they will run away. Am I not right, eh?’ He turned to von Islemann.
‘One has to tread carefully with everyone nowadays,’ said von Islemann.
The Princess’s features became heavier and more fleshy. She spoke quickly. ‘Of course, of course, I realise that. I am always very careful where anything concerning Willie is concerned. But it is important to move things along where possible and if I can help, I shall. I wish to help. That is all.’
‘My darling. I am sure you will be a very great help. It is simply that in anything connected with restoring me to my throne it is necessary to proceed with great caution, is it not?’ The Kaiser looked again at von Islemann, who glanced at Krebbs.
‘It is necessary at all times nowadays to exercise caution in everything,’ said von Islemann.
Krebbs was discomforted to hear it asserted, casually, as if it were a mere matter of course, that the Third Reich would not last a thousand years. It was like talking about a person’s forthcoming death in front of the person. It smacked of disloyalty. Even to have sat passively and heard it felt like a disloyal act.
The Kaiser fed himself with his right hand, using an implement that was knife and fork combined. He cut his fish into small pieces, scooped them up and pushed them into his mouth, chewing vigorously. ‘God’s ways are mysterious,’ he said with his mouth full, turning to Krebbs. ‘He makes me Kaiser, then He takes it away from me and sends me into exile, like Moses. He has His own reasons. Our duty is to accept them, not query them. But these Nazis – your people – are godless. They fear no gods. If He permits them to puff themselves up in this way, to have these great successes, and they truly are great successes’ – he held up his fork as if it were a symbol – ‘then it is my fear that He permits it in order to bring them down exceeding low, to make them as dust beneath His feet. And what will become of Germany in the process, eh? That is what worries me. It is the fate of Germany I grieve for, not that of any particular government. That is why we must help them to see clearly and judge wisely in these matters. We must talk quietly but we must not lecture.’ He finished chewing and began cutting more fish.
No one said anything. Krebbs felt he was expected to respond but it was difficult for him to discuss the Party as if from outside. The benign tree whose shade had nurtured and sheltered him was not simply one of a number of trees he might have chosen; it was that which had given him life, almost. However, the Kaiser’s reference to God offered him a way of responding that was neither confrontational nor compromising. If the Kaiser believed in God as his words suggested, then everything else obviously mattered less. Therefore, everything else he said mattered less. Therefore, Krebbs needed neither to challenge nor to accept it, but could say something neutral.
‘German Christians must hope that God acts for the good of Germany,’ he said, and was gratified to catch the tail of a swift, appraising glance from von Islemann.
‘I am certain He does,’ said the Princess.
‘But one cannot have enough hatred for England,’ the Kaiser said suddenly, his mouth again full. ‘That is why I built my navy, to teach them a lesson. Yet at the same time’ – he waved his fork – ‘at the same time, it is to be remembered that I am myself half English. The good stubborn English blood that will not give way runs in my veins as in my mother’s. They are not all bad, the English. But England just doesn’t want to belong to Europe. For forty years I have been telling the world that England wants to form an independent part of the world between the continent and America or Asia. That cannot be permitted, especially as they are now in the grip of all these freemasons and Jews. Everything – everything we have must be turned into weapons in the fight against Anglo-American materialism and un-German behaviour. That is what I tried to do with our plays, our drama, when I
was first on the throne. If the Nazis can achieve this they will have done Germany and the world great service.’
Everyone nodded. The Princess smiled at Krebbs. ‘As I said, we hope soon that our table will be graced by an important guest from the High Command.’
‘And as for abducting me, no, the English would never do that,’ the Kaiser continued. ‘Other things, yes, they may try other things.’
‘Assassination, do you mean?’ asked the Princess.
The Kaiser laughed and made as if to cut his throat with his implement. ‘No, no. It is true that their prime minister, Lloyd George, wanted me hanged after the last war but even he has changed his mind. Anyway, there must be others on their list before me – your Führer, for instance, Untersturmführer. But if they wish to assassinate people I would publicly advise them to concentrate on their true enemy, which is not the German people, not even the Nazis, but Juda. The Jews are like mosquitoes. They plague us all and are a nuisance that humanity must get rid of in some way or another. I have long said so. I believe the best would be gas, eh?’ Still chewing, he touched his lips carefully with the corner of his napkin.
Krebbs and the Princess nodded again. Afterwards, at his desk upstairs, Krebbs made notes of the conversation. It was not easy, partly because he was unused to wine at lunchtime but also because it was hard to be both concise and comprehensive, as he had been taught that reports should be. It was all in his head, somewhere, but the act of sustained distillation on to the page felt like the mental equivalent of pull-ups in the gym. For some minutes he sat listening to the fifteen or sixteen clocks striking or chiming three, at times of their own choosing. The closest was in the corridor behind him, the next on the landing nearby. There were doubtless more than he could hear. As the last chime faded, the house was reoccupied by silence. The Kaiser was taking his afternoon nap in his day-room. Everything seemed to have closed down, apart from himself and the clocks. If he remained seated much longer, he felt, there would be only the clocks. He decided he would stretch his legs and keep himself awake by going round the house and synchronising them. He would use his officers’ wristwatch, which was accurate to within thirteen seconds a week.
