People Watching Part 23 - I Never Loved Eva Braun
The sound of a dull thud from somewhere outside had drawn
his attention away from the meeting.
Listening intently, the sound had quickly died away and all he could
hear now was the wheezing of the machine at the end of one of the corridors. That machine was meant to feed air into the
compact group of rooms but as always, the air was heavy and stagnant. Despite all the efforts that had been taken
to make this hateful place more comfortable, he didn’t feel in any way relaxed in
the protective embrace of these cold, concrete, windowless walls and of all the
places he could be right now, this would have been his last choice. It was only because the situation had
deteriorated so rapidly, that he had agreed to be here.
Then they heard another dull thud but this seemed noticeably
louder. The noises combined with the
palpable tension in the room reminded him of the distant summer thunderstorms that
had rumbled around the mountains of his childhood home. Those storms had frightened him to his core
but with that fear had come a strange excitement. Much of what he’d done as an adult had been
driven by his desire to re-discover that excitement…….for a moment, he yearned
for those innocent childhood years. He
checked himself: he couldn’t afford to entertain such thoughts at times like
this. Besides, those dull thuds which
had been growing louder and more frequent in the last few days, were far more
ominous than thunder. In his
increasingly fearful state of mind, he pictured the menacing sounds as the
crushing boots of an advancing army - an appropriate image, given what was
happening out there in the outskirts of his beloved capital.
He paused to take in the room around him: maps and generals
and uniforms and everywhere, the red, white and black emblem that had become
his symbol of power. Not once had it
occurred to him that this symbol would be seen by generations to come as a sign
of the greatest evil man had ever unleashed on fellow man. Before he’d been distracted by the noises from
outside, they had been reviewing the plans they had for his escape. Like some cornered rat, he was to leave
through a system of tunnels that had been built far below the ravaged city streets
– built at enormous cost, but only for his use.
The tunnels would take him to the airport from where they’d fly him
north – or maybe south – to the coast, where he’d board a submarine. They knew he hated submarines - the
claustrophobia and the smell of oil, worn rubber and vomit……..these were the
plans of idiots. Why at a time like this,
was he surrounded by idiots?
He didn’t harbour the slightest feelings of gratitude
towards the people that were with him now. It was obvious from their ashen complexions
and the terror in their blue eyes that they knew the end was near and yet their
sole motivation seemed to be to fawn and to fuss over him……it drove him to
distraction. Although these were probably
the last living souls he would see, he would be rid of them all in an
instant.
And then there was Eva.
Right now, she’d be in the next room, doing her daily exercises in a
vain attempt to stamp some semblance of normality on their ridiculous situation. Each day he’d yearn for the start of her
exercise sessions because it meant she wouldn’t be hanging round him, mooning
like some lovestruck teenager. When
they’d first met, he’d been besotted by her ambition. Like him, she wanted to be so big and so
important and he’d enjoyed her simple, almost childish ways. But those times were gone - a life that now
seemed so remote, it must surely have belonged to someone else.
How had it all gone so wrong? Twelve years ago, he’d had it made….the big
parades, the adoring millions, chanting his name. Of course there had been a cost…..but he’d made
sure it was others that had paid the price.
Was it his fault that the countries he conquered were so weak when he
was so strong? The blood and dirt had
never been part of the dream…in hindsight, maybe he’d been too ambitious but
he’d never had to listen to the screams, he’d never had to witness the pain and
the terror he’d unleashed on the world. Through
his guile and cunning, he always made sure it was someone else that had done
his dirty work. But the world should
never forget this had been his plan – his struggle. It was he who had made history, not his snivelling
generals and certainly not Eva……
In that moment with the Soviet Army tightening their grip on
his Berlin bunker, he realised that despite what he and everyone else believed,
he’d never loved Eva Braun.