Although the rest of the world did not know much about Eva Braun, the sweet paper had offered Alice some insight into this shallow and rather silly woman. From a sweet paper Alice had learned that Eva Braun was obsessed with movie stars, fashion, and European socialites. The words “featherbrained” and “inconsequential” were used in the description. Nevertheless, she was Hitler’s girlfriend.
Frau Weissmann opened the door. Even if it had not been in the bunker, it was a ridiculous room. Alice felt as though she had walked into a massive cloud of cotton candy—or fairy floss, as it was sometimes called. Everything was pink and puffy. There was a couch that was upholstered in an elaborate floral brocade. A gilt-edged writing desk that matched a coffee table with an elegant tea service set upon it. The wallpaper appeared to be embossed with a fussy design of pink and silver flowering vines scrambling over a deeper pink background.
In the middle of the room stood an open and empty steamer trunk. “Now,” Frau Weissmann pointed to the empty trunk. “I have a list here, prepared by Liesl, of the things that Fräulein Braun requires to be packed up and sent to the Berghof.”
“And who is Liesl, might I ask?”
“Oh, Fräulein Braun’s personal maid. Liesl Ostertag. Here is a list of the dresses. If you have any questions, just come and ask me. But Frau Ostertag has given a very detailed description of each gown, so you shouldn’t have trouble finding them.” She took a deep breath, and her ample breasts seemed to heave under the bodice of the apron. “However, there is something of a more delicate nature I must ask of you.”
Oh God, Alice thought. Is this going to be something about Eva Braun packing sanitary napkins?
“You know how our Führer is displeased with makeup, cosmetics, and such. He feels that they use animal products—pig grease or something. But Fräulein Braun does like makeup. Very light makeup. So, there are rules at the Berghof—no red lipstick, no nail polish. Fräulein Braun gets her makeup specially made for her by the chemist shop just a few blocks away—a very light powder and rouge, the palest pink lipstick and clear nail polish. There is a separate list of these items, all which can be picked up within a ten-minute walk from here. You won’t have to pay. Fräulein Braun has a charge there. When you finish packing, you can set off for those items.” Frau Weissmann took a deep breath. “Now can you prepare this by tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Good, we shall be sending the trunk ahead.”
“Ahead of what?”
“Ahead of you, my dear.”
“Am I going to the Berghof?”
“Absolutely. You will love it. Fresh mountain air, hiking, helping with the clothes—the parties. And oh yes, there are to be scenes performed from the Ring cycle. It will be delightful. Lots of music. Oh my, our Führer loves his entertainment and operas.”
Delightful? The Germans were losing on the Russian front. The Allied armies of Americans and British had just landed in France with over 150,000 troops. The invasion had come. And what were the leaders of Germany doing? Listening to music!
Sixteen
A Face in a Crowd
“It’s not forever, Mum. Think of it as camp.”
“Hruumph.” Her father gave a low growl.
But she was excited to begin her mission. Everything until now in her life had been preparation—preparation for anything that might occur, no matter what the mission. She had learned how to jump from aircraft. She had a limited knowledge of aviation—she knew how to take off and land. And she was familiar with dozens of codes, not to mention all the languages she had learned. She regretted that there had not been time for one last visit to David. She just wished he could find more food, although she had brought him a fair amount. She hoped he could make it last. At least it had been getting warmer for several days now. Survival should be easier.
The following morning, she had accomplished all the errands that Gudrun had sent her on. There was time for her to return to the apartment over the garage for the night, but she was supposed to be back at the Führerbunker by nine o’clock sharp.
The same young man came to pick her up in the same Volkswagen. Frau Weissmann was waiting for her as they drove up. She appeared slightly agitated. The two blobs of dough seemed to be rising.
Then she gasped. “Where’s the girl?” she asked.
“Right here, Frau Weissmann.”
“Oh, forgive me, child. I didn’t recognize you. For some reason.”
“Oh, it’s me,” Alice said quickly. “Ute Schnaubel. Maybe it’s my hair?” Alice had learned that it was always good to give people a reasonable excuse as to why they might not remember her. “I had it in a half Gretchen, you know. Back down, and then a single pigtail wrapped across the back.”
“Ah yes, of course. The half Gretchen is more sophisticated, makes you look a bit older.”
“Yes, that’s what my mother says.” Total lie!
“But thank heavens you’re here. A message just came through. Fräulein Braun needs the new movie magazines. They just came out this morning. The newsstand on the corner of Anhalterstrasse and Wilhelmstrasse will have them.”
“Do I need money?”
“No, we have a charge there too. They are expecting you. Now run along, dear, your driver will be here soon.”
I have a driver! For some reason this surprised her. She had thought she would be going on the train.
There was a throng of people at the newsstand because everyone wanted to read about the invasion. Men in tan uniforms with elaborate patches on their collars elbowed their way through the crowds. The SA, Hitler’s paramilitary, a private army of sorts that had distinguished themselves with their wanton violence was shouldering their way through the crowds. People instantly backed off to let them through.
“Out . . . out!” The news vendor shouted. “Völkischer Beobachter out since an hour ago. Vossischer Zeitung out from five minutes ago, along with Das Reich. Read all about the invasion here!”
“Propaganda shit,” she heard someone mutter behind her, but when she turned to look, she could only see the back of someone hurriedly walking away. The other people were pressing forward. Alice wormed her way toward the vendor. “I’m here for Frau Gudrun Weissmann.”
“Ah yes! I have the order.” He turned away, ducked under the counter, and came up with a net bag. “I couldn’t get the latest of Style Now, but I do have Modenschau, Fashion Show, and guess who’s on the cover?”
“Wouldn’t know,” Alice answered.
“Duchess of Windsor. Once we win the war, she’ll be a queen in England, and her husband the duke will be back on his rightful throne as king!”
Dream on, Alice thought. The Duke and Duchess of Windsor were Nazi sympathizers, and although they were royal, Prime Minister Churchill had essentially kicked them out of England and given them some dumb post far away in the Caribbean, where the duke became governor of the Bahamas. Stalwart Princess Elizabeth would become queen. She was eighteen years old and next in line. Some said the duke and duchess would never be allowed to set foot in England again.
“Fräulein Braun loves the duchess,” the news vendor said.