LESLIE EPSTEIN
119
est comrades will always stand with him."
I was amazed at the transformation that now came over the German
leader. His face grew as white as the creamy staircase, and his voice, when
he spoke, emerged in a strangled whisper. "Not alone? Herr Goering, have
you gone mad? Do you know what day this is? A day on which, whatev–
er the difficul ties, I have always returned to Munchen."
Goebbels spoke soothingly: "We feel ourselves,
mein Fuhrer,
what you
have lost. None of us have forgotten this anniversary and -"
But the Flihrer was not done with the hapless Goering. "There is
much, too, that
I
have not forgotten. Didn't the Reichsmarschall des
Grossdeutschen Reiches promise me that the Messerschmitt 109 would
make short work of the RAF defenses? Let us pray that we do not look
back upon that failure of the Luftwaffe as the
trlle
turning point of the war."
"Might I say to the Fuhrer, the victory we are celebrating today would
not have been possible without the air cover of the Messerschmitt and the
tactical support of our Stuka dive-bombers."
"Celebratil1g!
We are not here to have a celebration! Don't you under–
stand? You say you are my oldest friend. You claim to have fought by my
side. And still you know nothing of my inner life. I have just come from
upstairs. From that sacred room. I have been weeping. Look! My tunic!
Soaked with my tears. Oh, Goebbels! Has it been ten years? Ten years!"
Goebbels, glancing at his watch: "Almost to the hour."
Goering took the risk of saying, "A beautiful young woman. A noble
spirit."
Hitler put his hand to his chest: "On that night, at that moment, my
heart stopped beating. Tell me: why is it beating now? It is a traitor! Look
at you, all of you: you obey me. All of Germany obeys me. Only my own
heart ignores my commands."
Goebbels: "On such a night, at this anniversary, naturally you have
such feelings."
"Yes, I am made of flesh. I do have feelings. They are deep, deep with–
in. But do you think I am swept away by my emotions? I assure you I am
not some woman who weeps at the cinema. I am not a boy who is over–
come at the death of his dog. Painful memories do not prevent me from
making rational decisions. Every creative spirit has at his center a store of
ice. It is from this unmeltable core, with perfect calm, that I tell you I am
aware of how much, in these las t ten years, has been accomplished. Already
we have achieved many of our goals in Europe. But I would give all of it
up, yes, in an instant, wi thout regrets, if I could have returned to me that
dear girl."
Young GLinsche, blond and beribboned, spoke feelingly: "You must
not say such things,
meil1 Fuhrer.
What happened in that room was God's
