Chocolate Cake With Hitler

Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1936
Day One in the Bunker
1937
Day Two in the Bunker
1938
Day Three in the Bunker
1939
Day Four in the Bunker
1940
Day Five in the Bunker
1941
Day Six in the Bunker
1942
Day Seven in the Bunker
1943
Day Eight in the Bunker
1944
Day Nine in the Bunker
1945
Day Ten in the Bunker
Postscript
Who’s Who
Copyright

1936

I’
M SITTING WITH
P
APA
on a bench beside the sea. I must be about three years old. The sun is in my eyes. There’s a man in a white hat taking photographs. Papa is laughing. The breeze is puffing his white shirt but I’m warm because of the sun and because I’m leaning right into Papa and his arm is firmly around me. I’m as comfortable as can be and it’s as if I realise for the first time that Papa is special. He is not just someone in the background. He is here and I am safe with him.

The moment is quickly over. Uncle Leader, who has been watching us, says “My turn!” and Papa leaps off the bench and Uncle Leader sits down beside me. He wants his photograph taken with me too. I hardly know Uncle Leader. He sits right up next to me, and I have to swing my leg away and across my other leg so that he’s not touching. I know he wants to put his arm around me like Papa. He’s breathing over me, and I try to ignore him.

“You, Helga Goebbels, are my favourite girl in the whole world. If only you were twenty years older!”

The man in the white hat is laughing. Papa is
laughing
. I am not going to take any notice. Uncle Leader leans closer, his smell like the furniture in the servants’ quarters. I can pretend he’s not there. I turn right away and stare at the camera.

I think this is my earliest memory.

I am sitting in a high chair and Mummy is sitting on a chair facing me. She is leaning forward and holding both my hands in one of hers. In the other hand she has a spoon which she’s bringing towards me through the air.

“Choo, choo,” she says brightly. “Here comes the train. Here comes the train.”

On the spoon is a wobbling grey blob. It smells like the old cloths Cook boils up on the stove. I know the train trick and when the metal spoon reaches my mouth I keep my lips tightly shut. Mummy presses the spoon against them and I shake my head in an attempt to fend it off. “Come on, Helga, here comes the train. The train wants to come into the station.” She’s
squashing
my hands. The metal of the spoon is jamming against my lips. I will not open my mouth. I will not open my mouth. The spoon presses harder and I taste the damp, soapy paste. Mummy pushes the spoon in. A grainy lump hits the back of my throat. I retch and spit.

I’m in a white dress with short sleeves. My sister Hilde is wearing a nicer one. Hers has a dark pink sash and little pink rosebuds around the bottom. My dress is plain, my arms are cold and my feet hurt in my
gleaming
new patent leather shoes.

We are in an enormous room with a sky-high ceiling.
You could pack about a million people in here – all the cheering crowds in the square outside – if they stood on each other’s shoulders or lay down on top of each other like sardines but there are only a few shiny guests so it feels quite empty. Men in uniforms, ladies in hats and heels. I can’t see any other children.

We join a queue to shake hands with Uncle Leader. It is his birthday. I don’t want to shake his hand. I’ve done it before and I know it feels like a dead slug. Hilde is in front of me, littlest first. Lucky Helmut has been left at home because he’s just a baby. Hilde doesn’t mind, though. She shakes his hand and does a big
toppling
curtsy and sets off smartly for the cakes. And now it’s my turn. My best bet is not to look at him. Papa is behind me, hands folded patiently, with a fake
ha-ha-ha-isn’t-she-a-one
smile on his face. I step sideways and look out at the room. I can see the long table of cakes, the big windows, the golden chandeliers. There’s a band playing outside. I hold my arms together in front of my chest so that Uncle Leader can’t take my hand. He bends down towards me. Cabbagey breath. I’m backed up against the wall. Everyone is waiting for me. I make my move quickly – a bob of a curtsy – I don’t even glance at him – and speed off after Hilde. She has reached the cakes. I’m just deciding whether to go for the chocolate layer cake or a gingerbread heart when Papa comes up beside us. He’s not laughing now; his cheeks are peeled back in a toothy smile. He bends
down and whispers in my ear.

“Rude girls don’t get cakes.”

Day One in the Bunker

Sunday 22 April, 1945

I
am lying on a bottom bunk with Heide who has finally fallen asleep next to me with her head nestled in my armpit and her feet on top of my shins. I’m never going to get to sleep like this. We’re pitched in together because the mattress has a ravine in the middle. The imprint of all the soldiers who have slept here before us. No one else would share with Heide because she
wriggles
. There are only two bunk beds between the six of us – Hedda is above us and Hilde is above Holde and Helmut is on a blanket on the floor. He’s delighted. When we realised that there weren’t enough beds for us he declared, “All German people have to make sacrifices in the hour of darkness.” He’s always pretending to be like Papa. Anyway, he managed to fall straight to sleep which is pretty incredible considering there’s only a thin
army blanket between him and the concrete floor. Mummy says they’ll find us more beds tomorrow. I hope they find ones with better mattresses. I can’t read because the only light is a wall light and it would
disturb
the others if I turned it on.

We arrived in the early evening. We’ve only been back in Berlin for a couple of days, and we thought we were going to stay in our bunker underneath the State Palace, but Papa suddenly came to fetch us this
afternoon
. He has decided that the best place for us to be is the Leader Bunker, or to be more precise, the Upper Bunker which leads to the Leader Bunker. It’s much less comfortable than the bunker at home, no carpets, bare walls – at least in our bedroom – smaller beds, rougher sheets, thinner blankets.

Our Leader has come to the heart of Berlin to lead the final fight against the Russian hordes. We are here to show our support for him. Papa says we are very lucky to have this opportunity to demonstrate our
loyalty
. He says it is a very important moment in history and it is a great honour to take part in it. Our bravery is an example to all the German people. We are very close to victory, he says. Personally I don’t think it really counts as being brave when you have no choice.

It’s just the six of us and Papa and Mummy. We left both grannies and both governesses behind. When Papa phoned Swan Island to tell us to come to Berlin it was Hubi’s day off and Miss Schroeter and Granny
Behrend had to help us pack, which was quite hard because Hubi’s the only one who really knows where everything is. Mind you, we didn’t need a lot. Papa had instructed that we should only bring one set of night things and one toy each as we are not going to be here long. We all brought our dolls – I brought Elsa – except of course Helmut, who brought a tank. Granny B. kept crying, and saying the same things over and over, “Tell your mother I must see her one more time. Give her a big kiss from me. I told her, I told her it would end in disaster. She should never have married him.” It set us all off. Granny B. is always really rude about Papa. Mummy says it’s because they don’t see eye to eye. She says Granny B. is ridiculously melodramatic, and that the war will soon be won and we’ll all be back together again. I don’t know which house we’ll live in after the war. I guess that it will take a while to clear up Berlin, so probably Swan Island would be best. Hopefully we will spend the whole summer there. I want to do lots of riding. I’m missing Rosamund already.

As soon as Hubi got back from her day off and heard that we’d left, she came to Berlin to find us. She arrived just as we were leaving the State Palace bunker. Helmut adores Hubi and burst out, without thinking as usual, “Are you coming with us to the Leader Bunker?”, which was quite embarrassing because Mummy didn’t say anything. She obviously didn’t want Hubi to come. I suppose there’s not enough room. Hubi looked at
Mummy and Mummy turned to us and said, “Come on, children, hurry up. Goodbye, Hubi.” And Helmut called cheerily, “See you soon, Hubi!” as if we were off on a holiday.

We came to the bunker by car even though it’s only a short walk from the State Palace. It’s impossible to walk anywhere in Berlin nowadays. The pavements are covered with fallen bricks and broken glass. In some places a car can barely get down the middle of the road. And it was pouring with rain.

Mummy and Papa went ahead in the first car and us children in the second. I sat in the front. The driver was a funny-looking man with the squashed-in nose of a boxer and enormous ears. He wasn’t one of the regular drivers. He annoyed me because he did that thing of talking to us in a way I just knew he wouldn’t if our parents were there; trying to extract information he wouldn’t dare ask them.

“I expect you’re excited about going to the Leader Bunker.”

“Oh yes!” said Helmut. “We’re going to see Uncle Leader and there’ll be lots of generals and soldiers. We’ll be right in the thick of it.”

“Will Miss Braun be there?”

I wasn’t going to answer his questions. I am sure it is going to be secret exactly who is in the Leader Bunker. And Mummy is always telling us to be careful about what we say, especially to servants, but I think Helmut
is still too young to understand why. He’s nine and a half.

“Do you mean Auntie Eva?” Helmut asked solemnly. “Oh yes, I think she’ll be there.”

“Auntie Eva, eh!”

“She’s not our real aunt,” Helmut explained. “We just call her Auntie because she’s a good friend of our family.”

“You know her well, do you?”

“Quite well.”

We’ve only met her a few times and we haven’t seen her for ages – Helmut was just babbling now.

“I’ve heard she’s very beautiful.”

I don’t think Helmut knew what to say to that.

Despite the rain, half the sky was glowing red from the Russian fires in the east. Heide thought it was the sunset and was clapping her hands because the sky looked so beautiful. She doesn’t know east from west. Mummy tells them that the sound of the guns is
thunder
and yet they never seem to wonder why there are thunderstorms every day, even when it’s sunny. I feel very alone.

We drove past one of the signs that Papa has had painted all over the city: “Every German will defend his capital. We shall stop the Red hordes at the walls of our Berlin.” The driver didn’t seem to be too worried about the Red hordes. “Ivan” he called them. “Ivan drinks so much vodka that he’s more likely to shoot himself in
the foot than to shoot a German soldier!” He laughed loudly to himself.  

So many buildings have been shelled. Some have collapsed completely, and others are smashed open exposing flowery wallpaper and fireplaces and doors that lead nowhere. When we drove in from Swan Island the other day we saw mothers in overcoats cooking on open fires in the ruins and dirty barefoot children crouching around. I don’t know what food they’ve got; there are hardly any shops still standing. We drove past one house which was on fire – huge yellow flames were billowing up out of the windows – and the houses either side standing solid as if nothing was happening. Helmut said he saw a dead body strung up on a
lamppost
. He might have been lying.  

We got out of the cars in the courtyard of the Empire Chancellery. It has been badly hit. There are huge holes in the roof of the building and the
courtyard
is heaped with rubble and burnt-out cars. All the glass in the windows has been broken, which gives the place the look of a skull. Papa says we shouldn’t worry too much about all the damage because once we’ve won the war we will be able to rebuild the city bigger and better than ever before.  

We went through a tall thin doorway at the back of the courtyard and down into the Empire Chancellery cellars. Inside there was no sign of damage at all. We went past the kitchens and into a large pantry, stacked
with tinned fruit and jams and salamis and sausages and pickled beef and sacks of flour and sugar and crates and crates of wine and champagne. Then we went through a small door that looked like a cupboard, but was actually the entrance to a secret corridor. This led to a huge metal door guarded by soldiers with helmets and big, long guns. They searched our bags, even Mummy’s handbag, before allowing us through. She wasn’t at all pleased but the soldiers simply insisted it was “Leader’s orders”. Once we were allowed through, we started climbing down the stairs to the bunkers. There are hundreds of stairs – so many they make your legs go wobbly – and so many twists and turns of
corridors
that I lost all sense of direction. Hilde called it a labyrinth, but Mummy pointed out that luckily it leads to Uncle Leader, not the Minotaur. Helmut was very excited and kept saying, “Now we are in the middle of the total war!”

When we got down to the Leader Bunker, Papa went to find one of the secretaries to show us our room. Mummy’s bedroom is next door to ours in the Upper Bunker but Papa’s is down in the Leader Bunker so that he’s always close to Uncle Leader. Mummy stayed downstairs to see Uncle Leader and then went straight to bed. She’s got her bad heart again.

The secretary is called Mrs. Junge. You can tell she’s not used to looking after children because she didn’t make us brush our hair before bed and I think she
would have even forgotten to get us to brush our teeth if I hadn’t reminded her. She’s kind though. As soon as we got here she said she was going to find things to “occupy us” and she took us down to the Leader Bunker and showed us a huge storeroom.

The room was full of the most unexpected things. It had been Uncle Leader’s birthday a few days before and they had put all his presents in this room. Apparently he didn’t want any of them and he’d told Mrs. Junge to let us pick out anything we fancied.

There were so many things – ornaments, toys,
children’s
books – but none of it really suitable for a
grown-up
man.

“I want the teddy with the black nose!” Heide
shouted
, pointing at the top shelf. Mrs. Junge reached to get it down for her.

“Look! They’ve got Stukas Attack! Who’ll play Stukas Attack with me?” Helmut asked, jumping up and down.

Deadly silence. Stukas Attack is the most boring board game in the world. None of us are ever going to want to play it with him.

“I will play Stukas Attack with you.” said Mrs. Junge, passing the box to him. “Is there anything else you would like?”

“I’d love some of those tin soldiers, and…” Helmut had a good look around, “Could I take some cars as well? Mrs. Junge, why has Uncle Leader been given so
many children’s toys?”

“I have no idea. So many people love him and want to give him presents, but I think perhaps they don’t know what to give him. What would the rest of you like?”

We picked up lots of paints, watercolour paper,
playing
cards and books. Hilde took some Red Indian stories, which Uncle Leader loves, and Holde took a great big book of the Grimm Brothers’
Children’s and Household Tales
and a doll in traditional German
costume
.

We were just coming back up the big staircase, when the wail of the air raid siren started and immediately there was a massive explosion. Holde started to cry.

“There, there. Don’t worry.” Mrs. Junge crouched down beside her. “We are in the safest place in the city. No bomb can reach us down here.”

Another explosion followed immediately. All the lights flickered, and bits of flaky ceiling fell down.

“You will soon get used to these bombs. I certainly have. We’ve been underground for nearly 100 days now. Come on, it’s time for tea.”

At least she admits that there are bombs. I’m hoping I might be able to get some truth out of her.

Cheese and salami sandwiches, chocolate cake and hot chocolate were all laid out on a big table in the
corridor
. Miss Manziarly served us. She’s Uncle Leader’s special cook. The only person he trusts to cook for him.
She’s Austrian and has a very strong accent, a bun of dark hair, a tight apron and thick fingers. She said that Uncle Leader had insisted that she make us chocolate cake. She cut us six very fair and even slices. Holde didn’t want any chocolate cake because she doesn’t really eat anything except bread and butter, but Miss Manziarly didn’t make a fuss about that. She said she was used to people being particular. Uncle Leader eats chocolate cake every day and never eats meat.

After tea Auntie Eva came to see us. She gave us each a kiss. She puts her cheek against your cheek and she has the softest skin in the world and she just kisses the air beside your ear, and you get this lovely waft of cologne. She looks like she’s in a movie. Her hair curls back in flicks around her face. Her eyebrows are plucked so neatly they look like they have been painted on. Or maybe they have been. Her lips make a perfect red love heart. And her finger nails are all exactly the same length, curved into identical points and matching the colour of her lipstick. She looks incredibly clean. I don’t know how you get that clean. Especially not here. Anyway, she had fantastic news, which is that Uncle Adi’s – she calls him Uncle Adi – Alsatian, Blondi, has had puppies! We all followed her swish-swish dress down to the Leader Bunker to see them.

The puppies are gorgeous! They’re really tiny; it’s hard to believe that they’re going to grow into great big dogs like Blondi. They’re only two weeks old, and
brown and golden and covered in messy fluffy hair, really soft! There are five of them, two girls and three boys: Foxl (my favourite, she’s named after a terrier that Uncle Adi had during the First World War); Stasi (which was the name of one of Auntie Eva’s favourite old dogs); Wolf (Auntie Eva says he’s Uncle Adi’s favourite); Harass (he’s named after their father); and Luger (Auntie Eva says he’s named after a person who inspired Uncle Adi, not the gun). Auntie Eva said we could have one to take home after the war. We couldn’t agree which one. I really wanted Foxl because she fell asleep on my lap, but Helmut really wanted Luger because he’s the biggest. In the end Auntie Eva said that we could ask Mummy if we could have two dogs.