A Man Without Breath

As the leader finished speaking, everyone – myself included – applauded enthusiastically. I glanced at my watch and told myself that I was applauding because Hitler’s speech had lasted a comparatively short ten minutes, but this was a lie and I knew it: applauding a speech by the leader was a simple condition of self-preservation – the hall was full of Gestapo. Acknowledging the applause with a perfunctory Hitler salute, the leader walked to the entrance of the exhibition, where he was greeted by the colonel, and at a distance – a safe one, I hoped – the rest of us followed.

According to the judge, Von Gersdorff’s tour of the exhibition was due to last thirty minutes; in the event, it lasted less than five. As I entered the exhibition hall where a number of Napoleonic standards were on display I saw the leader turn on his heel and then move quickly through a side door and out of the Arsenal onto the riverbank, leaving his would-be assassin bewildered by this unexpected turn of events. Short of chasing after Hitler and throwing himself into the back of his Mercedes, Von Gersdorff’s attempt to kill the leader looked very much as if it was over before it had even begun.

‘That wasn’t supposed to happen,’ muttered the judge. ‘Something’s gone wrong. Hitler must have been tipped off.’

I glanced around the exhibition hall. Those members of Hitler’s SS bodyguard who still remained behind seemed quite relaxed. Others – officers with red stripes on their trouser legs, who were presumably in on the plot – rather less so.

‘I don’t think that’s the case,’ I said. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any sign of alarm on the part of the SS.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ The judge shook his head. ‘Christ, the man’s luck is uncanny. Damn him, he seems to have an instinct for self-preservation.’

Von Gersdorff continued standing where he was, seemingly at a loss about what to do next, mouth wide open like the Engelberg Tunnel. Around him were several officers who clearly had no idea the colonel was carrying explosives that might go off at any moment.

‘I’m not so sure about your friend’s instinct for self-preservation,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Colonel von Gersdorff. He’s still carrying a bomb, isn’t he?’

‘Oh God, yes. What’s he going to do?’

For another minute or so we watched, and gradually it became quite clear to us that Von Gersdorff wasn’t going to do anything. He kept looking around as if wondering why he was still there and had not yet been blown to smithereens. Suddenly it seemed I had to get him out of there: brave men of conscience were rather thin on the ground in Germany in 1943. I had the evidence of my own shaving mirror to remind me of that.

‘Wait here,’ I told the judge.

I walked quickly through the exhibition, pushing my way past the other officers toward the colonel. I stopped in front of him and bowed politely. He was about forty, dark and balding, and if I had doubted his courage, there was always the Iron Cross first class around his neck – not to mention what he had hidden in his greatcoat pocket – to remind me. I figured I had a less than even chance of being blown up. My heart was in my mouth and my knees were shaking so much it was only my boots that were holding me up. It might have been Heroes Memorial Day but I wasn’t feeling in the least bit heroic.

‘You must come with me, colonel,’ I said, quietly. ‘Now, sir, if you don’t mind.’

Seeing me, and more importantly the little silver death’s head on my cap and the witchcraft badge on my sleeve, Von Gersdorff smiled a sad smile, as though he was being arrested, which was my intention – or at least to leave him with the impression that he was being arrested. His hands were shaking and he was as pale as a Prussian winter’s day, but still he remained rooted to the spot.

‘It would be best for everyone if you didn’t wait any longer, sir,’ I said firmly.

‘Yes,’ he said, with a quiet air of resignation. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘This way, please.’

I turned on my heel and walked out of the exhibition hall. I didn’t look around. I didn’t need to. I could hear Von Gersdorff’s boots on the wooden floor immediately behind me. But on our way out of the exhibition hall, an SD captain called Wetzel whom I knew from the Gestapo took my arm.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked. ‘Why did the leader leave so abruptly?’

‘I don’t know why,’ I said, pulling my arm away from his grip. ‘But it seems something he said has left the colonel feeling a little upset, that’s all. So if you’ll excuse us.’

I looked around. By now I could see the fear in Von Gersdorff’s eyes, but was he afraid of me or – more likely – the bomb in his pocket?

‘This way, sir,’ I said and led him to a lavatory, where the colonel hesitated, so I was obliged to take him by the elbow and thrust him urgently inside. I checked the six cubicles to see that there was no one else in there. We were in luck; we were alone.

‘I’ll keep watch,’ I said, ‘while you defuse the device. Quickly, please.’

‘You mean, you’re not arresting me?’