The Secret of Lions (16 page)

Hitler spoke harshly, yet elegantly. He
possessed fervor and passion. The crowd listened in awe of his
powers of speech, but Gracy had witnessed him rehearse his
movements over and over in private. She knew every gesture that he
made, ever word that he spoke, was strategically positioned and
tactfully said. Her input was useless to Hitler. He merely wanted
her there to be an inanimate object.

“Today, Germany will be free of the tyranny
of our neighbors. We will take our rightful place at the helm of
Europe.

“We will lead the world as Germany is meant
to lead!

“I am announcing. Here and now. Today.
Germany seeks to rearm itself. All of Germany will be united behind
our new goal of power and might. We will have peace for all
Germans.

“So let our forces rearm themselves,” he
said.

The crowd cheered and roared.

“Again let our navies patrol European
waters.

“Let our planes cast a shadow across the
ground that covers all of the Fatherland,” he continued.

An enormous cheer sounded from the
paratroopers and pilots in the crowd. They stood together, dressed
in full military uniform.

“My friends, Germany is rearming. Soon
Europe will be a new camp, with a new vision. Our vision. The
German vision!” Hitler said. He ended his speech, staring off high
above the crowd.

The crowd cheered, standing on the tips of
their feet. They waved German flags and chanted Hitler's name over
and over.

“Hail!” they roared over and over.

Gracy did not understand the full scope of
what Hitler was proposing, but she knew from watching the crowd
roar that Hitler had terrible plans for her. Somehow she could not
shake the feeling that his plans involved me as well.

As Hitler ended his speech, the crowd roared
and applauded. Their applause was deafening. I remembered how hard
Gracy squeezed my hand. It felt so tight. I remember being so
confused. She pulled me close to her. I squeezed my sketchbook
tight. I was afraid I would drop it.

I drew constantly. Gracy and Hitler had
given me the sketchbook long ago. I was an unusual child. I was
quick to start doodling on paper. I never played like most
children; I would rather stare at things and then draw them. I was
drawing realistic shapes and their details by the age of three.
Now, at five years old, I was drawing detailed animals, flowers,
and buildings. Mostly, I drew lions. I liked lions.

My mother thought back to the summer before
when I’d discovered lions. They were in Hitler’s library. He had
been gone for weeks. Gracy told me stories from the Bible. She
showed me a famous painting by Lucas Cranach the Elder. It was of
Samson wrestling the lion.

I was taken aback by the lion. I became
intrigued with them. I’d insisted that Gracy read stories about
lions to me. The story of the lion with the thorn in his paw,
Samson and the lion, and Hercules and the lion, were my favorites.
I especially enjoyed hearing the adventures of the cowardly lion in
L. Frank Baum’s
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
.

Hitler was becoming increasingly hostile
toward my mother. She feared him greatly now. She was deeply
concerned about what he might do to us.

Realizing she was interrupting Hitler’s
cheers, she wanted to leave the square without arousing any more of
his attention. The speech was over. Hitler would stay, shake some
hands, and then return to his normal duties. My mother wanted to
get us away from there before then. She didn’t want Hitler using me
in any of his photos.

Gracy looked around. The SS guards watched
their Führer closely. They were well-versed in the art of combat.
They stood near their leader with one objective: to ensure his
safety. They did not ask questions. They simply waited to fire
their guns. Gracy feared them almost as much as she did Hitler.

She squeezed my hand even tighter than
before. She began leading me off the stage where we had been seated
with numerous members of Hitler’s cabinet. Hitler faced away from
us. He was still facing the crowd. His staff watched heatedly as
Gracy led me off the stage before the event ended. I was not happy
about her pulling me. At first I went along with it, but then I
became irritable and started to jerk away from her.

“Willem, what are you doing?” she whispered
to me. Then she looked up at the person closest to her. He looked
confused by her calling me Willem.

Quickly, Gracy realized they all knew me as
Peter. Hitler did not want me to have the name Kessler, so after he
married my mother, they renamed me Peter Hitler.

“Momma? I’m Peter,” I said.

“Come along, son. Quickly,” she said,
jerking my arm again.

She looked up to see that Hitler was posing
for pictures with some men that she didn’t recognize. He shot her
an ugly glance over his shoulder.

As Gracy led me off the stage, some other
members of Hitler’s staff began following. I continued fighting
against her. Then she realized I was upset because I had dropped my
sketchbook back on the stage.

Gracy began to return us to our seats. She
saw the sketchbook. Before she could reach down and grab it, a hand
snatched it up. It was Hitler’s. The photographers were blocked by
two of his SS guards.

Hitler realized the sketchbook was mine. He
began to give it back to me, but first he took a quick glance
inside. He stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at one of my
sketches. His expression shifted from frustration to utter awe. He
had not paid any attention to my drawings in months. Now he saw how
good I was and at such a young age.

I stood at his feet, reaching up, trying to
grab my sketchbook.

Hitler peered down at me; his jaw hung in
the air. I used to think that he was tall back then.

“This is amazing,” Hitler said. He bent down
and began handing the sketchbook back to me. I stared into the
darkness in his eyes. I let go of my mother’s hand so that I could
take back my sketchbook.

“This is a good drawing, son,” Hitler
said.

Gracy heard the words from Hitler’s mouth
and recoiled in horror. She witnessed a transformation in Hitler in
that brief instant. It was a change she had feared. Hitler was now
interested in her son. She could see it in his eyes. I had become
his son.

Hitler watched me as Gracy pulled me away.
He watched as we left the stage and faded into the crowd of
people.

53

In Berlin, Hitler came to my mother and
expressed more interest in me than he ever had before. After seeing
my drawings, he now felt a connection to me, something that Gracy
deeply feared.

One day, I remember, he was asking her all
kinds of questions about my interests. Although my mother did not
approve of his interest, she dared not cross him. She told him I
had a great interest in lions.

One day, Hitler sat me on his lap in the
car. We were driving to a rally on the far side of Berlin. When he
placed his thick fingers around me, my mother grimaced.

“Peter,” he said. “Do you know what a black
lion is?”

“No,” I said.

“A black lion is like a white tiger or a
white panther; it is rare, very rare. Black lions are endangered.
They are lions with most of their mane and coat colored black,” he
said.

“That sounds great!” I said.

“They are great. Well, I have a surprise for
you and your mother,” he said, peering up into my mother’s
eyes.

“What surprise? Adolf?” Gracy asked. She
sounded worried. I could see the concern in her eyes.

“Gracy, I realized something when you
interrupted my speech.”

“I’m sorry Adolf...I...”

“No need to apologize, Gracy. No need. I
really have a surprise for you both.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“You will see. You will see,” he said,
looking back at me and then staring out the window at the cold
city. The winter neared its end. Hitler stared out the window,
thinking of the magnificent architecture that made up our city.

We drove a little longer until we came to
the Berlin Zoo.

“Gracy. You are mine. Peter is mine. I want
you to accept that. But perhaps I have been hard on both of you. So
my guards are going to give you both some time together. Here at
the zoo. Each week I am going to allow you and Peter to come here
and look at the animals,” Hitler said.

More than I remember his words, I remember
how excited I was to see the animals.

“And Peter, this zoo has a very special
animal just for you. The last animal you will see is a very special
cub,” Hitler said. He leaned forward and whispered to the
driver.

A single SS guard got out of the front of
the car and opened my mother’s door. He escorted us away into the
zoo.

54

Dark brass gates stood tall, allowing us to
pass through the zoo’s front portal. The air was thick with the
smell of snow and moisture. The zoo was a maze of animals and scary
sounds. Gracy and I walked hand in hand everywhere. We were the
only people there. The SS guards had closed down the zoo just for
us. I felt like a prince.

I was allowed to pet a giraffe, throw
pebbles at the orangutans—who often threw them back, and feed
peanuts to an elephant. It was a great day. But Hitler was right;
the best part was at the end.

When Gracy and I reached the last habitat, I
heard the roar before I saw the creature. Enclosed in a large area
filled with high grass and an old, rusted automobile with no tires,
was an enormous lion. He sat on top of the car, looking
majestic.

I started to giggle when he lazily rolled
over onto his back and made growling sounds like a big cat.

I could tell he saw us, but he did not seem
to mind. A moment later, I saw that he wasn’t alone. There was an
entire pride of lions. I could see at the base of the car, by the
axle, a lioness was licking three cubs.

“Willem, look at that,” Gracy said. She
pointed to a dark spot by the cubs. It was small, but it moved
around like a fish flopping on the ground. At first, I thought it
was a ball or a shred of the missing tires that the cubs were
playing with, but a better look showed me that it was an
animal.

“It's a black lion cub. Momma, it’s a black
lion,” I said as I jumped with excitement. Hitler was right; they
did exist.

The black lion cub was the most beautiful
creature I had ever seen. We could tell that he had just woken up.
His brothers were playfully gnawing on his ears.

Suddenly our escort approached the gate to
the enclosure. He looked down at me with a stern, expressionless
face.

“Frau Hitler,” the guard said. My mother
cringed at being called Mrs. Hitler.

“Yes,” she answered coldly.

“Herr Hitler has commanded that the zoo
officials allow Peter to enter the lion enclosure and pet the black
cub.”

I was overwhelmed with excitement, but I
could sense my mother was not excited at all.

Suddenly two zookeepers appeared behind the
lion enclosure. They used long staffs to get the male lion’s
attention. First they lured him away from the cubs and beyond an
opening on the back wall. Then they returned and herded the lioness
away from the cubs also. She was reluctant to leave them.

The zookeepers approached the gate and let
me in.

My mother stayed close behind me. The SS
guard walked out in front of both of us. When the zookeepers were
sure it was safe, they led us to the black cub.

“Go ahead; he won't bite you,” one of them
said to me.

Slowly, I approached the creature. He was
skittish and a lot more timid than I had imagined.

It took some time, but eventually he and I
played for hours. And for the next several weeks I visited him many
times. It was great because it was just me, my mother, and the
black lion.

The weeks turned into months. I had watched
the lion cub grow rapidly to where he was bigger than me.

55

One rainy morning when I was six years old,
my mother took me to see the lion. It would be the last time.

Hitler, whom I had thought of as my father,
was taking the day to do a propaganda campaign. I remember that he
had expressed a great deal of concern for Gracy spending so much
time with just the two of us. He wanted us to go to his press
conference, but Gracy insisted that we go to the zoo.

“Adolf, Willem really wants to go,” she
said.

“Damn it! Gracy, don’t call him Willem!”
Hitler yelled at her. I sat in the opposite room, but I could still
hear them. They fought a lot in the end. My mother was becoming
more and more daring.

“I'm sorry, Adolf. I meant Peter. It’s
confusing sometimes,” she said.

“I forgive you,” Hitler said. “You can take
him to your stupid zoo, but I want to see him become one of us
soon. I want him to know that he is my son!”

Hitler banged on his chest to emphasis the
word “my.”

“I understand,” Gracy said.

56

Thunder rumbled, making the sky sound like
we were inside a giant’s growling belly. The rain had stopped just
before we left for the zoo. The skies were covered in a light
grayish hue.

“Willem, I want to talk to you,” Gracy
said.

We sat with the black lion, which was now
fairly large. He licked my hand. The zoo keepers said he took to me
unlike he had with any of them. I felt a connection to him.

I was not allowed to have any friends. My
connection to the lion was a kinship unlike anything I had ever
known.

The ground was soggy, but being six years
old, I didn’t care. Surprisingly though, Gracy sat with me.
Together we petted the lion. I called him Mokka, which in English
is Mocha.

“Willem, can you keep a secret?” Gracy asked
me.

“What kind of secret?” I asked, thinking she
wanted to play a game.

“The kind of secret that no one can ever
know. No one, Willem. You can never tell Adolf, your father,” she
said, scooting closer to me.