Cafe Gentz and the Silver Pheasants

Adam Bayne

Poland and Czechoslovakia by SS officers. The Castle’s main hall
was huge and designed for Ahnenerbe SS initiation and other
ceremonies. Hess was fascinated, and Eva spent most of the time
explaining her ideas to him. I overheard her telling him how the
Nazi party could harness psychic power and use it to control the
world. As they grew nearer, they paused, and I nodded in
acknowledgement.
‘Magic is real,’ Eva said, and Hess hung on her every word.
They sat next to each over lunch. Hess’ wife Isle came and sat next
to me and said, ‘Rudolf is getting interested in this psychic power
thing that Eva is promoting. He has collected a dozen or more books
and spends hours contemplating them at home. What do you think,
Adam?’
‘I am not sure, but many say something is in it. Even Hitler is
getting interested, and I am sure Himmler would not waste the
money he has spent on this fine building without good cause.’ ‘Yes,
‘said Ilse, ‘it looks better than many churches I have seen.’
At the office back in Munich, Christa told me that Himmler had held
the first SS Ahnenerbe initiation ceremony at the castle earlier that
month. ‘What is this Ahnenerbe stuff all about,’ she asked, ‘there
are rumours of black magic and devil worship flying around.’
‘My advice is to forget all about it,’ I said truthfully.
‘Thank you for the advice,’ she said, ‘and by the way, Emil Maurice
wants to see you urgently.’
That afternoon Maurice was concerned about something important.
He told me that the SS Purity Section had called him in because they
had found Jewish ancestry in his family. He said, ‘This is coming
from clerks who follow procedure, but it could be serious if they
classify me as a Mischling (hybrid/mixed race). I will be discharged
from the SS. Perhaps worse.’ I told him not to worry and that we
would solve his problem.

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Maurice’s pedigree was impeccable; his SS membership card was
number 002. Hitler was number 001.
I went to see Eva that evening and explained his predicament. She
said she would talk directly to the Fuhrer and sort it out, which she
did. Eva’s trust in Maurice and his small team was growing, as was
mine.
Hitler sent a personally signed letter to Heinrich Himmler, Head of
the SS. The letter stated that Emil Maurice, SS Membership Number
002, was of pure Aryan blood and to please pass this on to his purity
section, who seem to be prone to making mistakes.
Eva got a copy of the letter for Maurice, and he was never troubled
again by the skeleton of his Jewish grandmother lurking in his
closet.
Leni Riefenstahl once again filmed the seventh annual Nazi Rally in
Nuremberg. We all attended, even Magda, who was by this time
huge. Goebbels baby number four was expected to pop out any
minute. Dr Morell was her driver and constant companion at the
rally. He was never more than a few meters away from her. She
stayed in Nuremberg until the rally ended and went back to Munich
without producing. It was another two weeks before Helmut
Christian was born in a hospital in Munich, apparently no worse for
wear from his experience of attending a Nazi rally at such an early
age. He would never find out why the Silver Pheasants called him
Rally-Boy H4.
At the next of our regular soirees at Café Gentz, Magda brought
baby Helmut to meet the girls, as she put it.
‘What a year,’ said Eva, cuddling Helmut, ‘seems like Motor Show
after Party after Wedding after Party after Rally,’ and we all
laughed.
‘Still, one more to go,’ said Henny, ‘Maurice is getting married
before the end of the year. He told me he could not match the

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Goering extravaganza, but we are all invited anyway.’
Helmut fell asleep when all the cooing and kissing was over, and we
decided we should all have an early night.
When Helene and I were alone again, I said, ‘I am sure Maurice had
been postponing the wedding until his problem was resolved. But
can you imagine the plight of the Jews in Germany now? As an
Englishman, this brutal oppression of Germans by fellow Germans
simply because of religion is disturbing to me.’
‘And it disturbs me too as an American,’ said Helene, ‘whatever will
the Nazis do next?’

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Chapter 29 Maurice gets married, and Helene gets divorced.
The golden gun.

Eva gathered the Silver Pheasants at Café Gentz. She said she
wanted us to contribute to a wedding party at Osteria Bavaria for the
faithful Emil Maurice, who was not an affluent man despite his rank
as Reichsfuhrer SS. Everyone thought it was a lovely gesture and
Eva said she would also ask the restaurant manager to give us a
discount because we were such good customers.
This brought murmurs of ‘how much Champagne do we order a
month?’ and ‘we must be one of his best customers.’
‘Good, that is agreed then. I will coordinate with his fiancé
Hedwig,’ concluded Eva.
On the afternoon of Tuesday, the 5th of November 1935, Emil
Maurice and Dr Hedwig Maria Anna Ploet were married in a civil
ceremony at the Munich registry office. Afterwards, a small fleet of
cars conveyed the party to Osteria Bavaria for the wedding
reception.
All the Munich office staff were there, including the Fuhrer’s
primary chauffeur Erich Kempka and Hitler’s bodyguards, Julius
Schreck and Ulrich Graf.
A table was set up in the middle of the restaurant and was piled high
with gifts.
Champagne served; I opened the proceedings by congratulating the
couple and then making a profound apology on behalf of Hitler, who
could not attend due to civic business in Berlin. ‘However,’ I
continued, ‘he asked me to present the bride and groom with these
gifts on his behalf,’ and I produced two beautifully wrapped gift
boxes.
Eva stepped up to the table as rehearsed and called for Hedwig and
Emil to come forward. ‘On behalf of the Fuhrer, please accept these
small gifts as tokens of our appreciation,’ she said. Eva presented

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the boxes when they came up.
A rhythmic clapping and chorus of ‘Open-open-open’ arose, and
they could not refuse.
Hedwig’s wedding gift was what had become a Hitler favourite, a
Lange and Sohn wristwatch, this time in solid gold. When Maurice
unwrapped his box, he let out a loud and genuine ‘Wow, that is
amazing.’
He brought it over to where I was sitting with Hoffmann and
Kempka.
With a huge beaming smile, he showed us the engraved gold
Walther PPK pistol with ivory grips. This brought even more
‘wows’ from the SS Officers with cries of ‘can I hold it, Maurice?’
and ‘Let me see it please.’
The Silver Pheasants made a massive fuss of Hedwig and were
fascinated that she was a fully qualified medical doctor, which was
not such a common thing in 1935.
Helene came up to me and whispered, ‘Looks to me that she is about
six months pregnant.’
‘No wonder he was keen to resolve that racial purity matter,’ I
whispered back.
After every lady had seen the wristwatch and every man had
handled the Walther pistol, we settled down to our meal. I ordered a
sausage supper. ‘Something different, perhaps?’ Helene suggested.
‘I like their sausage suppers,’ was my reply. The waiter supported
me with, ‘We serve the best sausage suppers in Munich, Madame.’
Helene shook her head in dismay.
I was tucking into my meal when I suddenly stopped halfway
through a gelbwurst. I jumped up and went to stand behind Helene.
She gave me a surprised look, and I whispered into her ear, ‘The
witch; out there again.’
Helene replied, ‘Calm down, Adam; I told you before she will not

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come in. Now relax and enjoy your meal.’
I tried to ignore the lurking Unity Mitford, but it disturbed my
evening. The witch also knew it; she just stood there and stared
straight at me through the restaurant’s front window. The next
minute she was gone. Suddenly she appeared again, watching.
I was relieved when it was time to go. We were in the Alfa with the
roof down, and I wilfully disregarded Helene’s pleas of, ‘Do you not
realise it is November, Adam?’ After the bracing drive home, I
finally managed to relax as I cuddled up to Helene in a warm bed.
As predicted by Helene, in February, Mrs Hedwig Maurice gave
birth to a healthy boy, Klaus, and we had a small party at Café
Gentz, where we met Hedwig’s parents. It was an excellent
opportunity for me to get an opinion of Hitler from an average
middle-class German couple such as Rudolf and Else Ploetz. Once
out of earshot from the main party, I asked them for an uncensored
opinion.
Her father started with a surprising statement, ‘Mr Bayne, we are not
Nazis, just average Germans, but what Herr Hitler has done after the
disaster of the Great War is remarkable. We believe he has the
welfare of the German people at heart. You know, such a change
from all the previous politicians, von this and von that. They were
nothing but greedy and selfish aristocrats.’
‘That is why we voted for him,’ added Frau Ploetz, ‘so that young
Klaus here will have a brighter future.’
I began to understand that Hitler was not just an excellent public
speaker with immense charisma but a visionary with a careful plan.
Within two weeks, the next stage of his plan unfolded as Hitler
marched twenty-two thousand armed troops into the Rhineland
without discussion or warning. The local inhabitants, mostly ethnic
Germans, welcomed them as liberators.
The Rhineland was an important industrial area critical to Hitler’s

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re-armament plan. However, this unilateral occupation was in
complete contravention of the Treaty of Versailles.
On the following Monday, Hitler came in to see me. ‘What news do
you have from London?’ he asked, which made me uncomfortable.
‘Does he know about my communications through the Consulate?’ I
thought.
‘Have you read the papers?’ he continued, ‘I have taken back the
Rhineland, which was stolen from Germany by the French. I have
been waiting for some reaction, but there has been nothing. Just a
few journalists are crying about the Treaty of Versailles.’
‘I tell you, Adam, the cowards will do nothing. I will now absorb all
the German-speaking lands of Europe into our greater Germany.’
Through our inaction, we had given Hitler the green light to proceed
with his plan to dominate Europe. My next XC report made this
point, but London ignored it.
‘Hitler is preparing for war,’ I wrote, but they were more concerned
about the Mitfords. I was advised that Guy Liddell from MI5 had
requested that I keep tabs on them and report any suspicious
activities. He said that Unity Mitford had given a Nazi salute to the
British Consul General in Munich, after which the poor man had
unsuccessfully requested cancellation of her passport.
Poor Consul. Letting himself be intimidated by the witch, I thought.
Hitler told us he would be in Berlin for most of April, including his
birthday, and that he was taking Eva with him. He requested us to
postpone any party until next year, which we did.
Helene surprised me with a quiet dinner at the end of May when she
said she had a special treat for me, something very personal. Café
Gentz was full of the delicious smell of roasting rib of beef when I
came home from the office, and Helene asked me to sit at the table
and uncork the wine. My favourite red, a Chateau de Meursault,
stood ready for me to uncork. Helene brought in the plates of roast

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beef and vegetables with Yorkshire puddings smothered in gravy.
Not bad for an American, I thought.
‘So, what is this big surprise?’ I asked, and she handed me a large
envelope of documents. She could contain herself no more and leapt
up to hug me, nearly knocking me off my chair. ‘My divorce papers
have come through,’ she said, smothering me with kisses as I tried
to take a drink.
Her excitement mellowed as we drank the wine, and I told her that
my father always said to eat beef with the bone and a Beaune
(Burgundy) with the beef. But my pun-laden wine musings were
wasted on her that evening as she was only interested in going to
bed early.
Hoffmann came into my office the following day to update me with
the news and gossip. ‘Sad news Adam. Do you remember Julius
Schreck? One of the Alterkampfers from the early days. He was
Hitler’s most trusted bodyguard and driver. Always with him in
Berlin. Well, he died suddenly last week from meningitis. The boss
is upset.’
‘Yes, Julius was very popular. He will be missed.’ ‘It must have
been a shock,’ I replied, ‘he seemed healthy when we saw him at
Maurice’s wedding only a few months ago.’
‘By the way,’ said Hoffmann, ‘congratulations on Helene’s divorce.’
‘How on earth did you find out about that?’ I asked.
‘You know me,’ he said, ‘ear to the ground always, ha-ha. But more
importantly, when is the party?’
‘I might have known. You win; let us make it next weekend, spread
the word,’ I said, and he did.
The party was one big congratulatory event for Helene and me. The
Silver Pheasants thought it was brilliant and kept asking when the
wedding would be. Helene took the floor and said, ‘Ladies, I was
married for sixteen years; let me have a few months as a single

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woman, please. I have forgotten what it is like to be footloose and
fancy-free,’ which was answered with shouts of ‘Go for it, Helene’
and ‘Yeah, me too.’
Hoffmann then opened the large crate, which Baldur and I had
lugged up to the apartment for him. ‘Now then, ladies,’ he said,
‘please peruse these artworks. They are by another of Hitler’s
favourites, the famous Hans Toma.’
He pulled out a dozen paintings and engravings and stood them
against the wall. The Silver Pheasants closed in, more akin to Silver
Vultures.
‘Where and how did you get these?’ asked Helene, and Hoffmann
told us the story.
‘I purchased them from Alfred Pringsheim, the Munich millionaire.
He lived on Arcisstrasse in what is known as the Pringsheim Palace.
He is Jewish but said he was too old to take advantage of the
Ha’avara deal and emigrate to Palestine. He wanted to go to Zurich,
so he commissioned the Hoffmann Art Dealership to convert his
assets into cash. I arranged for Sotheby’s in London to sell
Pringsheim’s world-famous collection of majolica chinaware. As
well as that, he was an actual friend and admirer of Hans Toma.
Toma even painted a mural on the Pringsheim Palace wall. I
suggested that he get out of Germany as soon as possible and made
him a fair offer for his Toma collection, which you see spread before
you.’
‘Please take whichever you like, one each, please.’ Helene chose a
lovely engraving of a cat sitting on a windowsill.
After we had eaten, I gathered everyone around to hear what I said
was some personal details about Hitler. Eva was still in Berlin, so I
was free to talk, and Helene had approved this bit of gossip last
night.
‘Is everyone listening,’ I said in a purposely condescending way.’

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‘Get on with it,’ said Hoffmann, impatient for his next refill.
‘I have been talking to a contact in London who told me he met an
Irish woman by the name of Bridget Hitler,’ I paused for the ‘oos’
and ‘ahs’, but there was only a bored silence.
‘Helene, please fill Hoffmann’s glass before he has a heart attack,’ I
said. At least that got a laugh; I thought as I continued.
‘Bridget Hitler was married to Adolf’s brother Alois. She said that
when they lived in Liverpool, England, in 1912, Adolf came to visit
and stayed for ten months.’
I paused to look around at my audience as they got up and down,
filling their glasses. My story had fallen flat. I could see that the
history of the Nazi party and Hitler’s path to power was not a
rivetting subject, so I stopped talking, sat back and quietly drained
another gin and tonic.

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Chapter 30 Texaco and ESSO executives visit Hitler in Berlin.
The 1936 Olympics.

Goebbels had somehow persuaded the International Olympics
Committee (IOC) to award Germany both the Winter and the
Summer Games, so the rest of 1936 was one huge Nazi propaganda
event.
In February, the Winter Olympics launched Germany onto the
international scene. Goebbels used it as a testing ground for the TV
and radio coverage he had planned for the Summer games in Berlin.
Leni Riefenstahl was also getting her crew accustomed to filming
speeding athletes; no ‘cut, do that again.’ Leni Riefenstahl’s
Olympic documentary explored new and exciting ways to film
athletics and sport. It was shown in cinemas across the world.
For the summer games in Berlin, Goebbels had spent millions on a
massive new stadium plus dozens of smaller venues. These Summer
games were also the first ever to be televised. The radio commentary
was broadcast to forty-one countries.
There were a few international controversies about inclusiveness,
especially from Jewish and black groups, but Goebbels successfully
brushed these under the carpet. Germany dominated the medals
count with eighty-nine, followed by America with fifty-six. The
world saw Hitler as a benevolent dictator who, for the benefit of
everyone, was returning Germany into the folds of industrialised
western nations.
There were controversies, too, within the Silver Pheasants. We all
discovered that Hitler had allocated a private box for the Mitford
witch to watch the games. The witch was seen wearing a distinctive
gold swastika badge which she told everyone was a gift from Hitler.
Eva was furious.
Maurice made a point of telling everyone that she had a Berlin
jeweller make it for her. Regarding propaganda, the witch was a

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match even for Goebbels.
There was stress among some couples in the Pheasantry. The
foremost example was the tension between Hitler and Eva being
made worse via the deliberate goading of the English witch.
Magda was three months pregnant again, but Maurice told
Hoffmann and me that he had seen Goebbels with some actresses in
Berlin. I told Helene, and she said not to tell Magda if it was only
rumoured.
We all stayed with her at Villa Wahnfried for the Bayreuth Festival
in August. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed their time, partying late
into the night and walking in the gardens during the hot summer
days. It had been a long time since the Silver Pheasants had been
away from Munich together. Winifred had recovered from the death
of Siegfried, and it was nice to have her back in the group.
Everyone except Eva had a great time. Under pressure, Maurice
reluctantly told her that Hitler had ordered him to provide a full-time
chauffeur and an official party Benz for the exclusive use of Unity
Mitford during the festival.
One evening I walked in on a ladies meeting where Eva was sobbing
and being consoled by Winifred. Helene signalled for me to leave,
which I did. I bumped into Hoffmann in the corridor, and as it was
early, he suggested we went out for a stroll to the Maisel Weisse
brewery, which I admitted I had never tried before. We sat outside,
and after a few beers, he leaned across the wooden table and, in a
conspiratorial tone, said, ‘Have you ever seen Leni Riefenstahl
naked?
I was taken aback; classic Hoffmann. I replied that I had not. ‘Well,
now you can,’ he said, ‘I have an original roll of her when she was a
struggling actress. In her second film, directed by Arnold Fanck, she
dances in the nude. When we return to Munich, I plan to arrange a
men-only evening, and I will count you in,’ he said, giving me a

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knowing smile.
You are an old rogue, Hoffmann. I thought as he ordered more
beers.
We staggered back to Villa Wahnfried, and Helene told me that Eva
was distraught because she saw Unity in the chauffeur-driven
Mercedes-Benz. Eva said Maurice had found out Unity was staying
at the Silverer Anker hotel, and she asked Maurice to watch if Hitler
ever went there. ‘Poor Maurice,’ I said to Helene, ‘I would not like
to be responsible for mounting surveillance on the Fuhrer.’
‘Don’t worry about Maurice,’ Helene said, ‘I am sure his men know
what they are doing.’
The Silver Pheasants enjoyed the rest of the festival, and we were
soon all back in Munich, buried in the humdrum office life of Party
administration.
Later that week, Hitler called Goering and me into his office. He
showed us a telegram he had received from Hans Luther, the
German Ambassador in Washington, marked VERY URGENT.
Ambassador Luther reported that US President Roosevelt had
requested an audience with Hitler for three VIP American oil
executives coming to Germany during the Nuremberg rally. They
were K. Kingsbury and A. Moffett, President and Vice President of
Standard Oil, plus Torkild Rieber, chairman of Texaco.
Hitler said that Goering and I should meet with them and see what
they wanted, which we agreed to do.
He said, ‘Use my office in the President’s Palace in Berlin. Ever
since I have become President, Chancellor and Fuhrer all in one, I
have a lot of offices,’ he stopped for a second and chuckled, ‘Lucky
me.’
Goering and I were not sure whether to laugh or not.
He said, ‘One of our industrial weaknesses is the oil supply, so tell
them we need a reliable supply under all circumstances.’

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Outside in the corridor, after we had left Hitler’s office, Goering
said, ‘Adam, oil is the lifeblood of our industry. We must make
long-term supply agreements with the Americans that can withstand
international criticism. You saw the fuss those leftist commie
newspapers made when we suggested we would exclude Jews from
the Olympics. And that was only suggested,’ he laughed, ‘heaven
knows what they would have written if we had actually banned the
Jews.’
Goering continued when we were back in my office, ‘The Hamburg
shipyard is fully booked building the new oil tankers which Texaco
and Standard Oil have commissioned. Once launched, I have
arranged for them to sail under the Panamanian flag.’
‘Standard Oil’s local contractors have already started construction
on the land allocated for the new refineries. Fritz Thyssen told me
we would soon overtake even the Americans in steel production.
This is all part of my Four-Year Plan to solve our shortage of raw
materials issues and make Germany the most powerful industrial
nation in the world.
‘You will see hundreds of Panzer tanks at the Rally next week, as
well as the Ju 87 Stuka dive bomber that has shown its worth in the
war in Spain.’
My next XC report described Germany’s increased military
production, including fighter and bomber aeroplanes. I highlighted
their raw material crisis, especially concerning copper, aluminium
and rubber. Their response was to tell me that the new German
Ambassador to London, von Ribbentrop, had made a Nazi salute
when he met the King. Another trivial event in London society; silly
German aristocrat. Nobody but Churchill seemed aware of
Germany’s growing threat to world peace.
The display at Nuremberg was impressive. It was not even as if he
was hiding his military achievements. He was proudly displaying

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them to the world. Leni Riefenstahl’s film of the annual Rally ran in
cinemas across England and America. Back in Germany, Hitler’s
war machine rolled on. Row upon row of tanks and overhead a flight
of bombers. It could not have been plainer.
Helene and the Silver Pheasants had their usual fun time at the rally.
Helene said that Eva had cheered up now that Hitler was giving her
more attention.
‘Maybe the Mitford witch was getting tired of him,’ I thought. ‘God
help her next victim’.
After the rally, I went to Berlin to meet the American Oil Delegation
at the Presidential Palace. Gerhard Westrick, the owner of a German
law firm in Berlin, brought them in. Westrick represented Texaco,
Ford, Kodak, GM and ITT in Germany.
Kingsbury and Moffett from Standard Oil were the typical American
senior executives, confident and sure of themselves and keen to
make profitable deals with anyone who could pay.
Torkild Rieber was not typical at all. He was born in Norway and
started work as a sailor at fifteen. He rose to be a ship’s captain and
then made a fortune for Texaco by acquiring and developing the
Columbian oil fields. This man would bend the rules as far as he
could. President Roosevelt had already fined Texaco twenty
thousand dollars for faking documentation on oil shipments destined
for General Franco, the Fascist leader in the Spanish civil war.
The Standard Oil and Texaco executives guaranteed Nazi Germany
an exclusive deal for the supply of crude oil from Columbia
transported by their Panamanian-flagged ships. We set up the
framework of a complex payment method through the BIS. This
would remain in place even if Germany were at war with another
country. It was a good meeting. Germany was a fast-growing
industrial nation with a good credit rating, guaranteed by the BIS in
New York and the Bank of England in London. America was

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hungry to have Germany as a trading partner.
I found Torkild Rieber easy to get on with, the other two were
arrogant, and I could see they considered Germany a second-class
country. Goering felt it too and said he did not like Americans, but
beggars cannot be choosers. ‘One day, my Luftwaffe will drop
bombs on New York,’ he said, ‘then what will they say? They are
arrogant swine.’ I looked at Goering, and he was not joking.
The clean-shaven American boys were not big drinkers, but Torkild
was a Norwegian. We spent a few hours at the hotel bar chatting. He
opened his briefcase and showed me a copy of the May 1936 edition
of Time Magazine with himself on the cover. He displayed the
narcissism that I took as normal for millionaires. I wondered
whether you could buy space on the front page of Time. How else
could the editor decide whose photo to use?
During our interesting conversation, Torkild gave me a lesson in
international trading which I have never forgotten.
‘Adam,’ he said, ‘I prefer to deal with dictators rather than
democracies. You can make quick decisions with a dictator. You
have to bribe him only once. With democracies, you have to keep
doing the bribing over and over again.’ Words of wisdom straight
from the horse’s mouth.
The following day we drove the oil company executives to
Tempelhof airport, from where they flew to London. Montagu
Norman told me later they had visited him in Threadneedle Street
asking about Germany’s national credit rating, and he gave them a
satisfactory report.
We reported back to Hitler. He was pleased with the deals and
assurances received from the two oil companies and congratulated
us on our excellent work. He then excused himself as he was taking
Eva to dinner and did not want to keep her waiting.
‘Sounds like they are back together again,’ said Goering as we left,

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‘My wife will be pleased.’
After the Mitford witch’s flamboyant showing at the Olympics and
the Nuremberg rally, she seemed to have grown quiet. I asked
Maurice for his opinion. He bound me to absolute secrecy before he
gave me his intelligence report, but what he said did not shock me.
Maurice had learned through his SS Officers that Unity had been
participating in secret SS-organised orgies. He said, ‘She loves to be
blindfolded and bound with leather straps and abused by all the men
present and then…’
I interrupted, ‘spare me the details, please,’ I begged, ‘I get the
idea.’
Maurice, always the pragmatist, said, ‘I suppose it is a step in the
right direction for Himmler’s recruits. At least they get to do it with
women.’
I hoped I would never again see the witch, but the Silver Pheasants
were destined to meet her soon. Magda and Joseph Goebbels had
offered to host the wedding of the witch’s sister Lady Diana Mitford
to Sir Oswald Mosely. The venue was to be Goebbels’ newly
refurbished Berlin residence on the fashionable Leipziger Platz. It
was partly to demonstrate support for the British Nazi party and to
show off their new place in Berlin.
We were all invited, and Hitler would be the Guest of Honour. By
now, many of the Silver Pheasants had second homes in Berlin, so
only Heinrich and Erna Hoffmann joined us in the Red Dragon on
the journey to Berlin. Maurice drove Ilse and Rudolf Hess.
We stayed with Helene B, invited because she and Diana Mitford
met in London a few years before. Baronet Sir Oswald Mosley was
well known in London, but not for his looks; he founded and was
head of the British Union of Fascists.
It was not often that a wedding of British minor aristocracy took
place in Berlin. They invited the British Ambassador, but

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unfortunately, he could not attend. The London establishment hated
Mosley, and the Ambassador was probably petrified that Unity
might give him a Nazi salute.
We assumed correctly that Unity would be at her sister’s wedding,
which would mean an unavoidable encounter with Eva. Goebbels
was a little put out when Mosely refused to let Hoffmann take any
photos for the international press. Goebbels saw it as an opportunity
to publicise the Nazi party’s association with British aristocracy, but
Mosley and Diana wanted the whole thing to be kept secret. I think
it was because her family disapproved of Sir Oswald.
When Hitler arrived with Eva, the Silver Pheasants braced
themselves for an uncomfortable scene. However, after they
acknowledged each other with some niceties and smiles, they
avoided one another for the rest of the ceremony. Eva looked
stunning, relaxed and confident, proudly wearing Hitler’s Christmas
gift of her rose gold and diamond wristwatch. The witch also made a
successful effort to look stunning, smugly displaying the gold Nazi
brooch proudly pinned to her dress.
Lady Diana Mitford was quite a character and was soon holding
court with the Silver Pheasants. She told them about her views on
marriage, which I overheard.
Her words of wisdom, presumably learned from experience, were,
‘If you think infidelity will be something you mind about, you better
call it a day as far as marriage goes.’ She paused to let Helene
translate and continued, ‘Because who has ever remained faithful?
Believe me. They don’t. There is passion, and that is it.’
Eva and the witch were both listening to Diana’s pronouncement.
They looked at each other with daggers in their eyes. Eva looked at
her wristwatch as Unity adjusted her gold swastika.
I was glad when the wedding reception was over, and we could have
a quiet dinner with Helene B. We told her all the Munich gossip she

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had missed.
In Munich, Maurice reported that on the way back, he had driven
Goebbels and Magda to Bogensee just north of Munich to look at a
lakeside building plot.
I put out feelers the next time I had a Kaffee HAG with Goebbels,
and he obliged by telling me that he had been awarded a beautiful
plot of land at the lake to construct a country retreat. He opened his
desk and pulled out some drawings, which he handed to me.
‘I must admit that you do not do things by half. This little retreat
has,’ and I counted, ‘thirty bedrooms and a full-sized private
cinema.’
‘I love to watch films,’ he said coyly. I handed the architectural
plans back to him.
I had to ask. ‘How do you get awarded such a beautiful plot of
land?’ He told me.
‘Goering and I have formed the company RHG, which stands for
Reichswerke Hermann Goering, in which I am a minor shareholder.
Do you remember the land assigned to the American Standard Oil
company where they would finance and construct oil refineries?’
It was a rhetorical question, and Goebbels went on, ‘well, there has
to be a legal channel through which to transfer the land. This way, it
is transparent, and the Americans insisted upon freehold ownership
before starting construction.’ Gerhard Westrick’s legal firm prepared
the ownership papers through RHG.
‘So, you managed to acquire the lakeside plot through RHG?’ I said
to Goebbels.
‘Yes, at a very favourable price with a discounted deal to build a
house from the contractor building the first refinery,’ he said
proudly. He did not consider anything he said vaguely immoral or
illegal. RHG would grow to become the largest company in Europe,
a fantastic feat in only five years.

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However, Goebbels had more on his mind than a relaxing retreat
when he had the Bogensee villa built. He would use it as a
clandestine meeting place for his many mistresses over the coming
years.
The next time I saw Hess, he came into my office and told me that
the Wewelsburg Castle renovations were complete. It will be the
venue for the sixteenth anniversary of the Putsch in November. It
would also be the initiation ceremony of the latest batch of SS
recruits. From our previous discussions, Hess had incorrectly
concluded I was an advocate and supporter of the mystic arts,
probably because I found the whole thing fascinating and had read
many books on the subject. He said I was the only one who did not
dismiss the occult as complete rubbish, except perhaps Hitler and
Eva Braun. I inwardly rolled my eyes.
He and Himmler had scripted the SS oath-taking ceremony. He
wanted my opinion, so I obliged and listened to his brief description:
The ceremony will start at ten in the evening, the same time as the
Putsch started. The recruits will enter, marching in a torch-lit
procession through the main hall. There will be sixteen smoking
obelisks around the arena, one for each of the fallen faithful at the
Putsch. Each recruit will then come forward, kneel in front of Hitler
and the Spear of Destiny and swear an oath of unswerving loyalty
directly to the Fuhrer. They will then receive their death’s head ring
and badge.
‘The whole event will be accompanied by special lighting and
Wagnerian music. It will produce a powerful mystical effect,’ Hess
said proudly, ‘The recruits will be energised and filled with an
almost fanatical power to fight to the death for their fatherland.’
‘The Spear of Destiny has real power; I think you are the only one to
realise that, Adam. I feel the Spear is calling me to my destiny every
time I hold it,’ concluded Hess very seriously.

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Then he returned to reality. ‘Oh yes, Ilse told me to tell you that
Magda is due to have her fifth baby next spring,’ he said as he left
my office.

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Chapter 31 Silver Pheasants go Christmas shopping in London

I asked Hitler if I could take Helene to London for Christmas 1936
to meet my parents, and he said, ‘I am sure they will agree that
Helene will make a fine wife.‘Adam, have a well-deserved break,’
and added wryly, ‘I am not planning to annex any territory nor cause
any major international disruption for a few months.’
Once again, he reminded me that his rise to power was not an
organic phenomenon driven by his charisma but was a carefully
orchestrated military plan of action driven by his dream of world
domination by an Aryan race of supermen and superwomen.
Goering established the Gestapo in 1933 as an extraordinarily
successful but regional secret police force in Prussia. Just before the
Nuremberg Rally last year, he passed formal control over to
Himmler, who turned it into a national state secret police with
offices across Germany. Regarding information and surveillance, his
knowledge of my personal life and divorce showed me there were
no flies on Hitler.
The Gestapo was never a large organisation, with only around forty
thousand officers at any time. However, under the control of
Himmler’s deputies Reinhard Heydrich and Heinrich Mueller and
with the legal power of ‘preventive arrest,’ the word Gestapo
wrought terror amongst any dissidents or enemies of the state.
Gestapo arrests were not subject to habeas corpus or judicial appeal,
and no questions were asked when people disappeared.
Helene and I had met both Heydrich and Gestapo Mueller (as he
was known to distinguish him from the other SS general named
Heinrich Mueller – Mueller [Miller in English] is the most common
surname in Germany). As with most mass murderers, they both
seemed pleasant enough, leading relatively ordinary lives with their
families. We could see no outward signs of the evil acts they were
both to commit.

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Sometimes Helene and I sit and reminisce on the old days. When we
recall that we quite liked Reinhard Heydrich and Gestapo Mueller, it
gives us both a shudder.
We invited the Silver Pheasants to Café Gentz for a pre-Christmas
soiree the week before we planned to leave for England. Ilse and
Rudolf Hess said they wanted to make an announcement. Ilse took
the floor and said, ‘we have arranged to borrow one of Hitler’s
personal Junkers aeroplanes for a day or two, and we all,’ she made
an arm gesture across the room, ‘are taking Helene and Adam to
London next week. Hanna Reitsch will be the pilot. We shall, of
course, have time to visit Liberty and Harrods. Adam, perhaps you
could ask your parents to come to town to meet with us?’
Bormann’s wife Gerda told us her husband had booked us all at
Brown’s hotel.
Helene and I were overwhelmed by the friendship and warmth of the
Silver Pheasants and could say nothing but thank you to everyone.
Erna Hoffmann hugged me, ‘I have never been to London before.
You will not let me get lost, will you? I cannot speak English and
would not know what to do if I was left alone in London.’ ‘Don’t
worry, Erna, we would never leave you alone anywhere,’ I replied
and returned the hug.
Magda was next to speak and said, ‘have you heard of Madame
Tussauds, the fabulous wax museum in London?’ and not waiting
for an answer, she continued, ‘They have a special room called the
Chamber of Horrors where they have gruesome scenes of medieval
torture. But now listen to these girls; they have an actual guillotine
used in the French revolution.’
There was silence, and Magda sensed that not everyone shared her
enthusiasm for decapitation, so she broke the ice with, ‘A toast to
our pilot,’ and we all raised our glasses. I wondered why Magda had
such a broad smile when we toasted the pilot.

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So early on Saturday, the 19th of December 1936, we met at
Augsberg airport. The Junkers had been flown across from Berlin by
Hanna Reitsch, the famous test pilot. She welcomed us on board.
We did not expect the seven-month pregnant Magda to be welcomed
as a friend by Hanna and taken to the co-pilot’s seat in the cockpit.
We loaded the luggage and took our seats. Erna offered advice to
everyone and said proudly, ‘I have been on this plane before,’
Suddenly the cockpit door opened, and Magda appeared with
headphones, gloves and the considerable bump that was to be H5
Holdine Katharin.
‘Welcome aboard Silver Pheasant Airlines,’ she laughed, ‘please all
relax as I fly you to London in this plane which we affectionately
call Iron Annie. The flight will be about four and a half hours at an
altitude of three thousand metres. The weather forecast is clear and
cloudless, so that it will be a smooth flight. My husband has
thoughtfully provided chilled Champagne and picnic hampers.
Please help yourself.’
She turned to go into the cockpit, then stopped and turned back, ‘Oh
yes, and I really can fly; ask Hanna if you have any doubts.’ And
she was gone.
Eva said chirpily, ‘I hope we have parachutes on board,’ which gave
us all a laugh but did nothing to ease my fear of being piloted by a
seven-month pregnant psychopath.
The roar of the centre engine starting up signalled that we were
preparing for take-off, and the two wing-mounted engines soon
joined it. I was surprised by how much cabin noise there was.
Within fifteen minutes, we climbed to cruising altitude, and the roar
of the engines died down. We were soon drinking Champagne over
the clear skies of Europe on our way to London. It was a fantastic
day for flying with no turbulence, and we arrived at the Great
Western Aerodrome near the village of Heath Row at three o’clock.

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Brown’s had arranged for cars to meet us. Hanna re-joined us after
she had taxied Iron Annie over to the hangar for refuelling for the
return flight.
The Silver Pheasants piled on board the Brown’s Hotel motorcade,
which drove the sixteen miles to Mayfair. Within an hour of landing,
we all had settled into our rooms, and it was time for dinner, pre-
arranged by the brilliant administration office of Martin Bormann.
Just before Helene and I went downstairs, a message slid under our
door. To my surprise, it was from Winston Churchill.
It read:
Dear Mr Bayne, I am aware of your attempts to educate our
obdurate friends at the Foreign Office about Herr Hitler’s progress
in preparing Germany for war in Europe. I fear Chamberlain and
his cronies will not acknowledge this until the German Army
marches into France, which I am sure they will. May I ask you to
send me regularly any intelligence you feel appropriate once you
return to Germany? Letters can be forwarded to me at the Houses of
Parliament via the British Consulate in Munich. I apologise that
Clementine and I cannot meet and make your acquaintance. We are
on holiday in Minorca. Signed Winston Churchill M.P.
I showed it to Helen and said, ‘I think we better leave this in the
room, and we went down for dinner.
I assumed the Pheasants would all ask me for my recommendations
from the menu because I am English. I vouched for the Scottish
Black Angus steak or the Welsh lamb cutlets, a choice our waiter
enthusiastically endorsed. The sommelier suggested a Pol Roger
Champagne specially imported by the hotel, supplemented by a
1929 Chateau Margaux, again purchased directly from the chateau.
Helene and I had the Welsh lamb cutlets, which were very good.
Erna said, ‘Welsh sheep must be tiny; look at the size of these
chops. By the way, Helene, where is Wales?’

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‘We must do this again,’ said Magda as she raised a glass of Pol
Roger in a toast to the new King George VI.
‘Very polite of her,’ I thought, ‘better than savage von Ribbentrop
had done, giving him a Nazi salute.’
We had finished our dinner and were preparing to retire to the bar
when a smartly dressed man in his sixties with a trimmed beard, just
like King George VI, accompanied by a beautiful and much younger
woman wearing a silver fox fur stole.
The maitre d’ ushered the couple across to me and said, ‘Mr and
Mrs Montagu Norman to see you, Mr Bayne.’
‘My God, Montagu, I didn’t recognise you all dressed up, and this
must be Priscilla,’ I said and introduced them to Helene.
‘We are just about to retire to the bar; please join us. Helene will
introduce you to the Silver Pheasants,’ I said, and off we went to the
bar.
‘Good to see you, Adam,’ said Montagu, ‘Brown’s bar is renowned
for its collection of single malts. Let us get stuck in, shall we?’
We spent the next few hours tasting their finest spirits accompanied
by Montagu’s tutorials and descriptions such as; ‘This is Laphroaig;
it is what the King drinks. This is Ardbeg, an acquired taste, and this
is Johnnie Walker Red Label which Churchill drinks with his
morning coffee.’ This is Royal Lochnagar which was Queen
Victoria’s favourite.
I looked across to the noisy group of Silver Pheasants, where
Priscilla Montagu was also conducting alcohol education courses.
They were on lesson eight, Absinthe.
Before Montagu left, he gave me a cryptic message that he insisted I
pass on verbally and only to Hitler in person. ‘Now listen carefully,
please tell Hitler this: there are twenty-three tons at the BIS account
at the Bank of England (BOE) and twenty-seven tons directly with
me at the BOE.’ ‘Twenty-three and twenty-seven tonnes of what?’ I

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asked naively. ‘Gold, of course, my boy,’ said the Governor of the
Bank of England. Then he and his charming wife left with a ‘Good
night and thanks for all the drinks.’
The next day my parents came in on the early train for breakfast,
and then we all walked to the shopping streets of London. The
country was still buzzing over the unprecedented abdication of ex-
King Edward VIII, and there were pictures of the new King George
VI everywhere.
As arranged, Priscilla Montagu met us at Liberty as if the Silver
Pheasants needed any coaching in shopping techniques. Hitler and
Hess had both requested Eva to get them each a Burberry Gabardine
Dual Aviation Coat which we purchased at Harrods, and I was so
impressed I got one for myself. ‘Well, that is your Christmas
present,’ said my mother, who was as shocked as Erna at the price.
After hours of shopping and lunch at Harrods, we took taxis back to
Brown’s.
We took a couple of hours of rest to freshen up, and we were back at
the bar having our aperitifs. I asked what the general opinion was of
London.
Magda summed it up ‘No Christmas fairs, no lights, and everyone
with a dreary look on their face. I will be glad to be back in Munich
for Christmas. But please, Adam, do not take that personally. It is
not your fault that the British are so dull. Helene is lucky she got a
more cheerful one like you,’ and we all laughed.
My parents stayed the night and joined us at Heath Row the
following day as we waved goodbye to the Silver Pheasants and my
parents’ new German friends.
‘How on earth does Magda squeeze into the pilot’s seat with a bump
like that?’ asked my mother, but I did not want to think about it.
We used one of Brown’s cars to take us to London Bridge Station.
On the train back to Tunbridge Wells, we told my parents that

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Helene’s divorce was through, and we were planning to get married,
but there was no rush.
With his usual clumsy honesty, my father said, ‘That will be the
second American divorcee to get their Englishman this year.’ This
brought a severe scolding from my mother, a laugh from Helene and
an apology from my father.
We spent a pleasant Christmas with my family and went back up to
the Heath Row aerodrome on the 2nd of January, where Hanna was
waiting for us, but not in the Junkers 52.
The hangar doors opened, and Hanna taxied out in a Junkers 87, the
dive bomber that Franco successfully used in the Spanish War.
There it had earned the nickname Stuka and a fearsome reputation in
combat. It looked tiny to me.
The mechanics took us over to it, and Hanna jumped out. ‘Well,
what do you think, Helene? I told you I would shorten the return
journey. This is my specially modified three-seater training version.
It has a top speed of nearly four hundred kph. Even with a stop for
refuelling and lunch at Butzweilerhof airfield in Cologne, we will be
in Munich in less than three hours. Come on, hop aboard; this will
be a fast flight.’
I am not a good flyer and quickly suffer from motion sickness. Apart
from the constant noise, the flight was uneventful except for a few
moments over the fields of Flanders when Hanna flew low so that
we could see the remains of the trenches from the Great War.
Suddenly Hanna shouted, ‘look, there’s a fox. I will put the fear of
God in him, watch this,’ and there was nothing we could do but
watch. Hanna dived on the poor unsuspecting creature. It was
casually trotting across a field when a roaring monster nearly cut its
tail off with a huge rotary shaver.
We made a steep return to what I considered a safe altitude before I
could release my grip on the seat. I was too scared to feel sick, but

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Helene noticed I had turned white.
‘All OK back there?’ shouted Hanna, ‘Isn’t this a great little
aircraft? She handles like a dream, and so much power is available.’
Brilliant, I thought and prayed for a quick end to the journey. My
prayers were answered; within minutes, we saw the Cologne
airfield.
Thankfully, the airfield had a bar, so refreshed with three or four
stiff schnapps, I had a more pleasant onward flight to Munich, but I
was still pleased to be on the ground again at Augsberg.
Maurice was waiting for us. He took us home to Café Gentz and
said Hess wanted to see us at his house after dinner. Maurice said he
had some visitors with him that he wanted us to meet.
We drove to their house, and Ilse welcomed us into the lounge,
where Hess introduced us to SS officers Karl Wiligut and Johan von
Leers. Hess told us that these two gentlemen were accomplished
psychic practitioners, and they would be conducting a vital
ceremony at Wewelsburg castle on Monday. We had an interesting
chat with Karl and Johan, who explained they had recently revived
the Order of the Knights Templar, now called the Ordo Novi
Templars. Hess explained that Maurice would drive Eva and us
there tomorrow so we could stay the night at the castle and be ready
for the next day. Himmler and Heydrich would also be there.
On the way home, I told Helene that I felt a little uneasy about Hess
not inviting us but rather instructing us to be there. I felt better when
Helene told me that Ilse had apologised for her husband by saying
that it was his way when he was excited. He did not mean to be so
officious.
Maurice and Eva arrived after breakfast on Sunday morning, and we
all set off for Wewelsburg Castle, not knowing what to expect at the
ceremony planned for the next day.

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Chapter 32 SS magic ceremony, predictions for the future, and
Hitler’s new car.

We arrived at Wewelsburg Castle and were shown to our rooms by
Wiligut and van Leers. The north tower was converted into
comfortable twin rooms with a communal bathroom on each floor.
They took us to a local restaurant in the nearby town of Paderborn
for dinner, apologising for the unfinished castle kitchens, but they
would be ready in March.
Wiligut and van Leers explained that the ceremony on Monday
would be the Ariosophical initiation of Gerhard von der Ahe, the
nine-year-old son of a deceased SS Officer, a hero of the state who
Communist insurgents assassinated in Berlin in 1933. Himmler had
adopted the boy because his mother could not support him alone.
The magical duo said they would also perform a separate and private
astrological fortune-telling session for Hess and Eva, as Hess had
requested.
‘What does Ariosophical mean,’ Helene asked me quietly.
‘It means based on the ancient wisdom of the Aryans,’ I replied,
‘and before you ask, I read about it in a book Hess gave me.’
Although Eva was full of questions and hogged the conversation for
most of the evening, we had a pleasant, if average meal and returned
to the castle for an early night.
The following day, we found that there was coffee and fresh kipferl,
the German version of croissants, which Wiligut quickly pointed out
was originally a Viennese creation that those cowardly French stole
and probably Jewish French.
Himmler and his foster son arrived at about nine, and Hess and
Heydrich arrived together before ten. We were all ushered into the
main hall, decorated with wall coverings and mystic symbols. There
were wooden candelabra with burning candles. On the centre altar
was the Spear of Destiny. There was a kind of table next to it, which

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Wiligut called the credence.
There were chairs laid out for the audience, and we sat down.
Wiligut and van Leers came dressed in colourful robes with tall hats
and began chanting unintelligibly. They called young Gerhard up to
the altar, where he knelt as they indicated. The poor boy looked
terrified. Wiligut chanted away as loud as he could, then poured
some oil on his head and made him kiss the Spear.
Von Leers then raised his arms and shouted, ‘In the name of
Baphomet, arise Gerhard initiated Knight Templar of the first
degree.’ He held out his hand as Gerhard stood up.
The three men went over to congratulate Gerhard. I turned to Helene
and whispered, ‘What a load of gobbledegook. Do these grown men
believe in this mumbo-jumbo?’ ‘Yes,’ said Helene, ‘and we have to
tolerate it. For now, at least.’
Himmler and Heydrich were keen to leave. As soon as they had
gone, Eva said, ‘we can now have our private fortune-telling
session.’ Wiligut brought the credence table over to us and arranged
our chairs in a circle, putting the Spear of Destiny in the centre. He
then started to make a humming noise, and soon von Leers fell
backwards off his chair onto the stone floor with a loud thud. He
began mumbling and dribbling. Wiligut went and kneeled over him,
putting his ear to his mouth. After a few minutes, it looked like von
Leers had an epileptic fit, his arms and legs began flaying, and he
uttered an eery moaning sound. Wiligut got up and left him
thrashing about on the flagstones. ‘Is he all right?’ asked a worried
Eva. ‘He will be fine in a moment. It is direct contact with the spirits
which drains his energy. Now gather round. I will tell you what he
saw.’
Wiligut began in a droning voice, ‘Oooom; An Aryan upstart will be
destroyed; Oooom; Gold will be transferred; Oooom; No-one will
mourn the six; Oooom; Without peace, there will be no victory, and

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the regime will crumble; Oooom; The Eagle must fly to the north;
Oooom. By now, von Leers had sat up. He looked bewildered,
‘What happened?’ he said.
Hess asked, ‘What does it mean without peace, no victory?’
Wiligut answered by saying he did not know. We must interpret the
great spirit's messages to von Leers. Hess was busy writing down in
his notebook exactly what Wiligut had said.
Hess said, ‘come over to see me tonight in Munich. We will discuss
with Ilse what these utterings mean.’
The show was over, and we went out to the car park. Eva followed
us out; she hated being left behind. I looked up at the castle. It was
an impressive building with fantastic potential as a ceremonial base
for the SS.
On the way back, Eva and Helene talked in the car and concluded
that the magical duo, as Helene called them, were probably a pair of
lunatics. Eva said she would ask Maurice to get a background check
on them both.
Ilse phoned as soon as we were back. She said that Rudolf had
invited us over, and she was calling to say to make it for dinner.
‘Good,’ said Helene, ‘there is nothing for dinner here at Café Gentz
anyway.’
‘I thought you told me Ilse was not the best cook in the world?’ I
remarked on the way to the Hess residence that evening.
Thus I was amazed that after a most delicious bratwurst and
dumpling dinner at the Hess residence, I leaned back and
announced, ‘Ilse, that was a magnificent dinner thank you,’ and
smiled wryly at Helene.
‘Thank you, Adam, but I must tell you my mother came over this
afternoon and prepared it for me,’ replied Ilse. I caught Helene
smiling back wryly.
After dinner, we got down to a serious discussion of the magical,

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occult predictions. Hess had written them down as Wiligut had

recited them, but without the ooooms:

1. An Aryan upstart will be destroyed.
2. Gold will be transferred.
3. No one will mourn the six.
4. Without peace, there will be no victory, and the

regime will crumble.
5. The Eagle must fly to the north.

Hess looked at me seriously and suddenly asked, ‘Adam, you have
excellent contacts with the British government; is that not so?’ I

inwardly panicked, wondering how much he knew about my real
mission here in Germany. I replied, ‘Well, yes, mostly through my
father.’
Hess continued his interrogation, ‘Ilse tells me you know the
Governor of the Bank of England.’ ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘as you know, I

have been successfully negotiating on behalf of the Fuhrer for
financial support and sponsorship from Britain and America,’
He went on, ‘I do not know how much of this occult business is true,

but I passionately believe in destiny and that there is a higher power
steering our paths. The magician’s predictions four and five speak
directly to me.’
‘The Fuhrer’s dream will not come to fruition if Germany goes to

war with the entire world. It will be a war we cannot win no matter

how great a war machine we build. We must make peace with

England. Our combined forces will be invincible, and then we can
eliminate the real enemies, the Jews and the Communists.’
‘I believe this is also the will of the Fuhrer,’ said Hess, ‘but his plans

for Lebensraum will inevitably provoke Britain towards war. I want

you to start negotiating for a way to prevent war but allow German

expansion into regions of Europe which are traditionally and

ethnically already German. Can you do that for me, Adam? In
complete secrecy, of course, this must remain between us four only.’

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I thought for a moment, and basically, I agreed with Hess. A war

with Germany would cause millions of deaths and bring economic
disaster to everyone. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I can start preparing a plan to
prevent war if it seems inevitable.’ ‘War is inevitable,’ pronounced
Hess, ‘with or without peace with England. Now, what about these
other predictions?’
Numbers two and three stumped us all. Helene said, ‘we must wait
and see what happens. Maybe we will understand later.’ Ilse

reiterated she thought number one was a reference to Unity Mitford,
and we all agreed that we hoped it was, if only for Eva’s sake.

We realised it was late, and we went home to Café Gentz. On the

way back, I told Helene that although I thought the whole magical
show was a farce, the number two prediction was too close for

comfort. I told her about the secret message I had in my head for

Hitler from Montagu Norman.
‘Coincidence. You will start believing in this nonsense before long
if you are not careful,’ she said. I nodded in agreement, but it played

on my mind.
The next day I made an appointment to see Hitler. I closed his office
door, and Hitler gestured for me to sit down. ‘Coffee?’ he said with
a little smile, ‘or maybe you have already had coffee this morning? I
said I had. He continued, ‘What can I do for you today, Adam?’
‘I have a secret message from Montagu Norman for your ears only.’
‘Oh,’ he said laughing, ‘I thought you were a spy there for a
minute.’
I had a moment of inner panic for the second time in two days.
‘Tell me, tell me,’ said Hitler, trying to be serious.
‘OK,’ I said, ‘this is it; there are twenty-three tonnes at the BIS
account at the Bank of England and twenty-seven tonnes direct with
me at the Bank of England.’
‘Excellent news. Just waiting for the right moment, and it will be

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ours,’ said Hitler, ‘well done again, Adam.’
He did not even ask tonnes of what? He knew already. His plans for
the domination of Europe had support at the very highest level.
I handed him the Burberry coat we had purchased at Harrods, and he
was delighted. I told him it was from Helene, and he said he would
arrange something for her in return, which he did, but it proved to be
a little controversial.
The next Silver Pheasant event started with a panic. Magda was
rushed to the hospital in February when she started bleeding. The
baby was due, but it was a false alarm, and little Holdine Katharin
was born two days later without complications.
When Magda recovered in March, we had a Silver Pheasant evening
at Osteria Bavaria. Helene wore the distinctive gold swastika brooch
that Hitler had given her as a thank-you gift for the Burberry. As
soon as Maurice arrived with Eva, he pulled me over, ‘Tell Helene
to take off the swastika brooch,’ he said without any explanation.
But it was too late; Eva had already seen it. ‘That is nice,’ she said
when she saw Helene, ‘Yes, it is from the Fuhrer. He said it was in
return for the Burberry I bought for him from Harrods in London.
Do you remember, Eva?’
‘Of course,’ said Eva smiling, ‘I have an excellent memory, Helene
dear.’
‘What was that all about?’ I asked Maurice when we were in the
men’s room.
‘It is the identical brooch that Hitler gave to the Mitford girl,’ he
said.
‘I thought you said she had it made herself,’ I replied.
‘Maybe I was wrong,’ said Maurice. ‘they are remarkably similar.’
At the next party, which was for Hitler’s 48th birthday, Helene did
not wear the gold swastika brooch, and Eva never mentioned it
again.

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Maurice and I arrived late and burst in as the Champagne was being
poured. We told the kitchen to hold on serving dinner until we gave
the signal.
In time-honoured fashion, I tapped a glass with a spoon to call order.
Eva took the lead as we rehearsed.
‘Please stand up, my Fuhrer,’ she ordered, ‘and cover your eyes with
your hand. Take my hand with your other hand, and I will guide
you.’
For all his brilliant public speaking and image as the Great Leader,
Hitler was not an extrovert; we could all see he was not wholly
comfortable with this situation.
‘No peeping now,’ said Eva as she led him to the exit door being
held open by Maurice.
Hitler had regained his confidence and said, ‘I hope you are not
going to do anything naughty to me, Eva,’ which brought cheers and
laughter from everyone.
Eva led Hitler outside, and we all followed, including the servers,
the chef, and the kitchen staff.
‘Now you can look, my Fuhrer,’ said Eva as she gave him a seldom-
seen hug.
There at the roadside was a magnificent black machine. Shining in
the lamplight was a Mercedes-Benz W31 type G4. The tyres on all
six wheels were polished black and gleaming.
Spontaneous applause broke out, with cheers and shouts of Happy
Birthday. Maurice opened the door, and Hitler stepped in.
‘The centre seat folds down, my Fuhrer so that you can stand up and
the crowd can see you,’ said Maurice. Hitler immediately folded the
seat and stood up. The small crowd on the pavement outside the
Osteria Bavaria automatically stood to attention. They raised their
arms and shouted, ‘Heil Hitler,’ and the Fuhrer saluted back.
I realised for the first time the extent to which Goebbels’

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propaganda and fear of the Gestapo had brainwashed the German
people. Their morals had been disabled. Hitler could lead them
anywhere now to do whatever he wanted.
I signalled to the maitre’d, and he called everyone back in for
dinner.
Maurice told anyone who would listen to the engineering
specifications of the black monster outside, ‘It has eighteen mm
steel armour-plated panels, and the glass is forty mm thick. It is
four-wheel drive and can go anywhere, on or off the road,’ the ladies
at Magda’s table offered only bored nods to Maurice. ‘Just what my
wife needs,’ said Heydrich, ‘she’s learning to drive.’ This brought
great laughs from the men and headshaking from the women.
It was hugely enjoyable to see Hitler so pleased, and he came over
to me and said, ‘That is a beautiful vehicle, Adam, but how on earth
did you manage to pay for it?’ Dr Porsche did the design work,
which started at the Berlin Motor show last year. When I got the
estimate, I showed it to Montagu Norman when I saw him in
London at Christmas. He said he would make the necessary transfers
to Jakob Werlin at Mercedes-Benz so that production could start.
And there it is!’ ‘This has been in the making for months, as you can
imagine,’ I said. ‘I love it,’ enthused Hitler, and the party went on
late into the night.
Helene remarked that Eva and Hitler seemed incredibly happy and
close that evening. I hoped maybe the Mitford witch was dead, as I
had not seen her face staring through the window.
But alas not, the witch reared her wicked head at the next
Nuremberg rally, but her target was not Eva. Unity Mitford had
decided she wanted to be a movie star and pestered Hoffmann until
he introduced her to Leni Riefenstahl. She then spent the whole rally
replacing Hoffmann as Leni’s hound dog. Everywhere Leni went,
Unity was there. But it seemed that Unity was also attracted to the

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film crew. One evening Leni found her in a very compromising
position with her youngest cameraman. She fired the cameraman,
and Unity got the message and returned to Munich the same day. I
said to Helene that Maurice had told me. You know the way gossip
spreads. And when Helene repeated the story at the next Silver
Pheasant lunch in Munich, it soon spread to everyone else in
Munich, if not to the whole of Germany.

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Chapter 33 Goebbels marriage counselling. The Silver
Pheasants’ holiday in Vienna.

Emil and Hedwig Maurice came to see us one evening. Emil wanted
to tell us what he had discovered about the two magicians of
Wewelsburg.
Johan von Leers, he reported, was a clever fellow who could speak
five languages, including Japanese. Goebbels used him to write
propaganda leaflets. At least he was a die-hard Nazi.
Karl Maria Wiligut was another matter. He was a showman, often
using the stage-names Weisthor or Lobesam. He was an
entrepreneur who ran his magic show as a commercial business.
Fifteen years ago, he had been committed to a mental institution.
Recently his wife made a formal request to have him committed
again due to violent and irrational behaviour.
‘My advice,’ I said, ‘is to disregard them both.’ ‘Me too,’ said
Maurice, ‘but there is a problem; Eva has been taken in by them.
She convinced Hitler their predictions could be useful. So, I am
afraid we will have to humour them for a while.’
‘Ilse told me that Hess was also very impressed with them,’ said
Helene, ‘everyone else thinks they are bonkers.’
Hedwig said they could not stay for a drink because of Emil’s
workload tomorrow. They left, so we had an early night. ‘We must
keep a careful eye on those two weirdos, sorry magicians,’ said
Helene as we went to bed, and I agreed.
That year, the Nuremberg Rally or the 9th Nazi Party Congress,
came and went without any more memorable incidents other than
the Unity/cameraman scandal. After Leni threw her out, the Mitford
witch seemed to have vanished into thin air, proving she was a witch
to my mind.
We were expecting the year to come to a quiet end when Magda
turned up on our doorstep one evening in a very distressed state.

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After Helene had sat her down and provided her with a few glasses
of newly opened Champagne, she calmed down enough to tell us her
woes.
‘That schweinhund of a husband of mine has been having an affair
with that Czech actress slut Lida Baarova. To make it worse, he has
been doing it at our Bodensee villa, which I thought he built for the
children and me. And to make it even worse, I am pregnant again.’
Magda broke down in tears as Helene held her.
Magda dried her eyes and said, ‘I want a divorce, nothing less. If I
cannot divorce him, I will kill him. That might be the easiest way.
He has gone too far this time,’ as she burst into tears again.
It was a few hours before Magda had relaxed enough for us to let
her go home. She said Goebbels was in Berlin, so we ceased
worrying about his life for that night.
The following day Hitler called me into his office. ‘Adam, we have
to do something about the Goebbels domestic crisis,’ he said, ‘I do
not want any scandal. I treat Magda as my first lady; I am sure you
can see that. I will always love Eva, but my public persona must be
one of a bachelor. In the eyes of the German people, I am married to
the state, the husband of all German Frauen, and the father of all
German families. Magda fulfils the role of a neutral female partner
for state occasions for which I cannot use Eva. Luckily Eva
understands.’
I took a deep breath. The role of marriage counsellor was not on my
résumé.
I suggested, ‘May I propose we get Joseph and Magda together for
dinner one evening at Café Gentz? You and Eva should come also.
Helene will be the marriage counsellor, and your presence will
deliver a strong message.’
‘Excellent idea, as usual, Adam, I agree. I will let Helene do the
inviting. Let us know when,’ he said, and that was that.

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I went home and told Helene that she was now the official marriage
counsellor to the Third Reich, which she said was not funny. After I
told her the story, she agreed to do her best and arranged the dinner
for the following Saturday. The Goebbels and the Hitlers confirmed
their attendance.
The following day Hitler asked Christa to gather everyone in the
conference room; he had an announcement to make.
After thanking us all for taking time out from our busy schedules, he
came into the crowded room and said, ‘last night, Erich Ludendorff
died of cancer. He was a traitor to the party. At first, he supported
me. But he became jealous as I gained more power. When I became
Chancellor, he wrote a letter to Hindenburg, which my staff found in
the Presidential palace office files. I will read it to you,’ and he
produced a folded letter from his jacket and read it out loud.
‘That accursed man,’ Hitler stopped reading and said, ‘he is talking
about me here.’ He continued reading, ‘that accursed man will cast
our Reich into the abyss and bring inconceivable misery. Future
generations will damn you to your grave for making Hitler the
Chancellor.’
With a clenched fist gesture and a look of evil in his eyes, Hitler
raised himself and said, ‘Ludendorff was a two-faced cheating
traitor. I will not give him a state funeral. I do not want anyone
expressing sympathy for him. I am glad he is gone, and it is good
riddance. Now back to work please,’ and his usual smile came over
his face.
‘What did you think of that?’ I asked Hoffmann, who had popped
over for the meeting. Hoffmann said, ‘That was a display of why
you do not want to get on the wrong side of him,’ he said, ‘is it too
early for a gin and tonic?’ ‘Definitely not,’ I said, ‘it is nine-thirty
already.’
In the office later that week, Maurice said he must speak to Helene

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and me at home that evening, and he would come round straight
after work. Maurice came up to Café Gentz and refused a drink. He
said he would give us the intel, and then he had to leave.
‘No easier way to say this,’ he said, ‘Magda is having a passionate
affair with Karl Hanke. He is a deputy minister at the Ministry of
Propaganda and reports to Goebbels. At least he is not married,
which makes things less complicated. Good luck tomorrow
evening,’ he said as he rushed off.
‘That man knows everything,’ I said to Helene.
‘Yes, and it is lucky for us he does,’ I replied.
On Saturday evening, we laid the table with a simple salad and
carafes of sparkling water. There were potato dumplings in the
steamer.
The atmosphere was not as icy as I expected when our guests, or
patients, arrived. We all sat at the table. The atmosphere was a bit
like naughty pupils at the headmaster’s office.
Hitler took immediate control and said, ‘Joseph and Magda, you
know why we are here. I cannot let any scandals come in the way of
my plans for developing the Third Reich. I have no doubt you both
agree with that. I, therefore, insist that we solve this little matter
tonight. Helene will chair the consultation. Let’s begin.’
Helene outlined the problem; Goebbels was having an affair, and
Magda wanted a divorce.
Goebbels chose his time well, ‘There is a third factor,’ he said,
‘Magda is also having an affair with Karl Hanke.’
Hitler’s face went red, and he jumped up, ‘Is this true, Magda?’ he
shouted. Then he realised what he had done and immediately sat
down.
‘Yes, my Fuhrer,’ Magda said quietly, looking at the floor.
No one was interested in eating. There was an awkward pause, and
then Helene said, ‘This is the critical question. Our Fuhrer has said

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he needs you two to represent the perfect family in the eyes of the
German people. Joseph, you know the power of appearance and
propaganda. Are you two prepared to stop all this extra-marital
hanky-panky and get together again as the perfect Aryan German
family? In simple terms, will you both agree to start anew?’
The errant couple looked at each other, and at that moment, I
believed they were in love, or at least as much in love as two
psychopaths can be.
There were no tears, no hugging, just a simple, ‘Well, I can do that
if you can’ from Magda. Followed by, ‘so can I,’ from Goebbels,
‘Please forgive us, my Fuhrer, for any stress or inconvenience we
may have caused you.’
Eva said, ‘This is much too formal; get up, you two and show us a
good hug and kiss,’ which they did. From then on the atmosphere
improved and believe it or not we had an enjoyable evening.
Helene received profuse thanks from everyone as they left. Magda
kissed Helene and said, ‘I shall never forget what you have done for
my children and me. My dear friend Helene. I hope one day I can
repay your kindness.’
After they had gone, Helene said, ‘that was easier and more pleasant
than I expected,’ as we had a much-needed nightcap. ‘As pleasant as
a teetotal vegetarian marriage counselling session can be,’ I replied,
and we went to bed laughing.
Goebbels came into my office early the following Monday and shut
the door. ‘I have told Christa we are not to be disturbed,’ he said as
he sat down.
‘First of all, Adam, I thank you and Helene for your genuine
concern and help. Magda is a remarkable woman, and I would never
be able to find a better wife and mother. But we are all human, and
passion is dreadful,’ he said, smiling.
‘So, I have come to assure you the affairs are over. I am a practical

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man, as you know, Adam, so I have a practical solution. Karl Hanke
has been promoted and sent to join the general staff of the newly
formed Fourth Panzer Division.’
‘Lida Baarova will be banned from acting in Germany and expelled
from the UFA (German Academy of Motion Pictures). The Gestapo
pressured her to leave Germany, and soon she will return to Prague
out of the way of temptation,’ he said and looked at me for praise.
‘Well, you certainly mean business,’ and I added the ‘well done’ he
was looking for. But he was not finished yet; he was not known for
doing anything by halves. ‘Next week,’ he continued, ‘Hoffmann
and Leni Riefenstahl will come to the house at Bodensee.
Riefenstahl will make a film of our happy family, and Hoffmann
will ensure his photos are in all the newspapers.’
‘All rumours and stories of divorce will disappear,’ he said.
It was a scary example of the immense power of propaganda using
the new medium of film, particularly when it had international
distribution.
We hosted a Silver Pheasants dinner in early March at Café Gentz,
and all the girls attended. There was a lot of gossip to catch up on.
Everyone made a big fuss of Magda, who had a huge bump which
was to be Hedwig Johanna, her sixth child.
‘I saw Leni's film at Bodensee; you are now a celebrity, Magda. We
are all so glad you and Joseph are back together again,’ said Erna
rather clumsily.
‘Thanks, Erna,’ replied Magda, ‘But we were never really apart,’
which left Erna bewildered.
Eva joined in with the gossip. She said rather courageously I
thought, ‘that Mitford tramp is still in town; she has moved into a
new apartment here in Munich. Her feeble excuse is that she attends
a German language school and needs to be nearby.’
Magda went over to Eva and put her arm around her, ‘Never fear,

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Eva, Hitler loves only you, as Joseph loves only me. It is our
immutable destiny to be together forever. Never forget that Eva,
together forever.’
‘I have heard from a reliable source,’ said Gerda Bormann, and
when the laughter died, she continued, ‘that soon Austria will be
unified with Germany. Hitler has already sent Wilhelm Keppler to
Vienna as the Reich Commissioner for Austria. Before Keppler
went, he met with my husband, Hitler and the Austrian Chancellor
Kurt von Schuschnigg. Everything has already been arranged
verbally. Hitler will not be opposed when the time comes. When that
happens, we should all take a holiday to Vienna; it is such a lovely
city.’
‘I heard they have excellent coffee in Vienna,’ said Erna, ‘Adam
will not have to drink Kaffee HAG there.’
I think everyone knew about the Hitler-Bormann comedy team’s
prank on me.
Gerda said she was serious about a Silver Pheasant holiday in
Vienna. She told us, in complete secrecy, that she had seen the plan
for what Hitler and Goering called the Anschluss.
‘Please listen,’ she said, ‘on Friday the 11th of March 1938, Himmler
and an advance group of SS officers will drive into Vienna. They
will be welcomed by the Austrian Chancellor Kurt von Schuschnigg
and detain the senior government politicians and army chief of staff
in the Parliament Building. Austria and Germany will be united.’
‘On Saturday, the German army will march across the border and
put Austria under martial law. Hitler will arrive on Sunday to
address the crowds, which brought a round of applause.
‘Now then,’ said Gerda, ‘I want to be there to see it. So, listen up.
Ladies, I have a surprise for you. Martin and Keppler have made all
the reservations, and we leave for Austria next Wednesday in a
motorcade. Yes, a motorcade.’

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‘It has all been arranged to the last detail by my lovely husband.
Kempka will drive Erna and Magda with her children Helga,
Hildegard, Helmut, Holdine and their maid in the back of the
Duesenberg. Hoffman will drive Ilse, Hedwig and me in the Red
Dragon. Helene will drive the Alpha with Eva in the front and
Henny and Adam in the back. Maurice will drive his Party Mercedes
with Emma, Margarete and me. Baldur and Julius Schreck will bring
up the rear with a small SS bodyguard unit which will also give a
seat for Hoffmann’s son Heini.’
Gerda chinked two glasses together and called for silence. ‘All this
information about the Anschluss is TOP SECRET,’ she said,
emphasising the words, ‘I am serious; divulge nothing to anyone at
any time.’
Everyone understood, and Gerda raised her glass, ‘Look out,
Vienna, here we come.’ We all joined her in a toast. However,
Vienna and Austria were in for a bigger shock than the Silver
Pheasants arriving.
‘Wow,’ said Eva, ‘what a wonderful holiday to look forward to. I
will start packing as soon as I get home.’
Henny threw in one last piece of juicy gossip before the party
degenerated into the usual giggling gaggle, ‘Hitler is now so famous
that the American President Herbert Hoover is coming to Berlin
next week to meet him.’
I saw Helene start to say, ‘Hoover is an ex-President,’ but she wisely
thought the better of it. With a big smile on her lovely face, she
asked me to refill her glass.
We went to bed late, and I said, ‘I have never been to Vienna; I am
looking forward to a romantic holiday.’ ‘Whatever gave you that
idea?’ said Helene as she ran up the stairs. I ran and caught up with
her in the bedroom.

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Chapter 34 Occupying Austria; the Anschluss. President Hoover
in Berlin.

Hitler asked me to bring Helene with me to meet the American ex-
President. ‘It will make him feel at home to meet a fellow
American,’ he said. We drove up to Berlin. It was Monday 7th of
March 1938.
Visiting dignitaries to Berlin always stayed at the Hotel Adlon, so
Christa made an official booking from Nazi headquarters. Hoffmann
would be there too, for the official photographs. Smiling at me, she
said, ‘That will ensure you get good rooms and service.’
When she knew we were going, Helene said, ‘let’s take Erna. It will
be such a thrill for her. We won’t need an extra room, and she can
travel with us in the Red Dragon.’
Helene was right, and a visibly thrilled Erna was ready at Café
Gentz with her suitcase at seven that morning.
Ex-President Herbert Hoover was on a tour of Europe. He had
driven across from Prague to Berlin. We met him and Ambassador
Hugh Wilson at the Adlon for a pre-arranged breakfast. I introduced
Helene, Hoffmann, and Erna, who was masquerading as his
assistant.
Hitler had asked me to sound out Hoover about American public
opinion if Austria and Germany were to become united.
Hoover’s reaction was a little surprising, and he said, ‘Please tell Mr
Hitler that the average dumb American could not care less. He
would probably expect his local deli to start selling kangaroo
schnitzels.’ Hoover and Wilson laughed aloud.
‘That is strictly off the record Mr Bayne,’ instructed Hoover.
After breakfast, Helene and Erna stayed at the hotel, and we
travelled in the official US Embassy Cadillac to meet the Fuhrer.
The meeting went well. The discussions did not include anything
that I considered important except when Hoover said, ‘I understand

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you are planning to unite Austria with Germany Mr Hitler.’ To
which Hitler replied, ‘Yes, the Austrian people want it, and it will be
good for everyone.’ Hitler was mainly interested in Hoffmann
getting great photos for publication.
‘I quite agree, don’t you, Mr Ambassador Wilson?’ which received
a nodded reply.
After all the photos had been taken, Hitler said, ‘I understand you
are an engineer, Mr President. I have something I would like to
show you before you leave. It is outside, shall we go,’ and Hitler
gestured to the door.
We all went outside. Parked behind the Cadillac was Hitler’s
Mercedes Benz six-wheeler W31 type G4. Behind that, Dr Porsche
was standing next to the prototype Volkswagen.
‘Photos, please, Hoffmann’, beckoned Hitler, and we all stood
around the cars. Dr Porsche was introduced, and he briefly outlined
the specification of both vehicles. Hoover was genuinely interested,
and I was surprised at the extent of Hitler’s mechanical knowledge.
When Hoffmann showed me the photos afterwards, the Volkswagen
looked so tiny against the monster Mercedes.
As the Cadillac drove away, Hitler said, ‘Good for international
publicity, thanks, Adam, but Hoover is a spent force in America. He
will be of no further use to us.’
I returned to the hotel with Hoffmann and had a light lunch before
driving back to Munich. I told Helene about Hitler’s remark of
having no more use for the ex-President, and she said, ‘I hope he
does not have him killed. Enough American Presidents have already
been assassinated, and we do not need any more.’
‘Wait until I tell the girls I had breakfast with the American
President and the Ambassador,’ said Erna, ‘but what did he mean
about kangaroo schnitzels?’ I laughed and explained that many
Americans would confuse Austria with Australia.

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We drove straight back to Munich because we were off on the
Viennese Adventure, as the Silver Pheasants decided to call it.
The street outside Café Gentz looked more like a bus station, with
vehicles parked at strange angles with bags and suitcases
everywhere. Bormann had provided Christa with the list of transport
arrangements, and she was there making sure everyone boarded the
right car.
Magda’s maid established herself in the back of the Duesenberg, and
Magda joined her with the kids. Baldur was getting his slightly
bemused SS troops to move some ammunition boxes over to make
room for suitcases. Luckily, they had brought two vehicles.
Erna came up to me and said, ‘is that a gun on top of Baldur’s car?’
‘It certainly is,’ I replied.
‘Well, I hope they do not use it because it will scare the children,’
she said.
Erna walked purposefully over to Baldur sitting with the SS men,
presumable to tell them not to use the machine gun in case they
frightened the children.
I could not hear what Baldur said, but Erna looked satisfied as she
climbed into the Duesenberg and sat next to Magda.
Eventually, Christa declared everyone was in their assigned seats,
and Helene drove slowly away in the lead. ‘Wagons ho!’ shouted
Eva, raising her arm and pointing forwards, ‘I learned that from one
of Hitler’s cowboy books. He sometimes reads them to me,’ she said
to Helene.
The first leg of the four hundred and forty kilometres to Vienna
went smoothly, and after two hundred kilometres, we were well
across the border into Austria. We pulled off to figure out how to get
to our pre-arranged lunch in Hitler’s hometown of Linz. Stopping
outside the town on a broad section of the road, we got strange
stares from a ploughman in the neighbouring field. Gerda located

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the directions to the restaurant that Christa had given her, and we
were off again.
Time flies when you are having fun, and after a pleasant lunch, we
were soon back on the road. We arrived at the Hotel Zum Weissen
Wolf in Vienna in plenty of time for a relaxed dinner and a few
glasses of Champagne before retiring.
As we lay in bed, Helene said, ‘Eva told me that Hitler reads to her
from his collection of Karl May cowboy novels. I cannot imagine
anything more surreal than the Nazi dictator reading trashy western
stories about Apache Indians to his mistress in bed.’
‘Yes, that is weird,’ I replied, ‘but not as surreal as you and the
Silver Pheasants enjoying yourselves in glorious isolation as the
Nazi monster next door gobbles up Austria.’
It was maximum shopping on Thursday with a bare minimum of
sightseeing. Downtown Vienna showed no signs of the political
storm on the horizon.
Although we were all insulated from the events happening in
Vienna, we knew the plan. The Silver Pheasants were happy to relax
and appreciate each other’s company in a beautiful hotel. As they
enjoyed their holiday, Himmler and the SS advance guard silently
arrived, arrested the mayor, and took over the government. The next
day, very visibly, the German army marched into Vienna. Hitler
came on Sunday and set up an office at the Parliament Building. By
then, the SS had arrested thousands and executed hundreds. Any
opposition to the Anschluss was exterminated or imprisoned.
On Monday, Hitler asked me to come over to his temporary office.
Keppler was there with Goebbels, Himmler, and Baldur. The mood
was boisterous. Without a shot fired – apart from the executions -
Austria became nothing more than a region of Germany.
Dissident politicians and military personnel who disagreed with the
Anschluss were rounded up and removed, as were all known

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