In The Presence Of My Enemies

"Neither did I," Heinrich said. The powers that be had never forbidden any edition of Mein Kampf. That strongly argued the differences between editions weren't large. But they had to be there. Otherwise, the British Union of Fascists wouldn't have specifically cited the first edition.

Like everyone else at Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, he had a copy of Mein Kampf on his desk. His was, of course, the fourth edition, revised by Hitler after Britain and Russia went under. As always when he opened the book, he found his way to one passage near the end.If at the beginning of the War and during the War twelve or fifteen thousand of these Hebrew corrupters of the people had been held under poison gas, as happened to hundreds of thousands of our very best German workers in the field, the sacrifice of millions at the front would not have been in vain. On the contrary: twelve thousand scoundrels eliminated in time might have saved the lives of millions of real Germans, valuable for the future. But that passage was plainly old, for bythe War there Hitler had to mean World War I.Damn him, Heinrich thought wearily. He'd known what he wanted to do, what he intended to do, long before he got the chance to do it.

But what did he say about choosing a new Fuhrer? Finding out took some poking through the index. In this edition, it was exactly what anyone would have expected.The young movement is in its nature and inner organization anti-parliamentarian; that is, it rejects in general and in its own inner structure a principle of majority rule in which the leader is degraded to the level of a mere executant of other people's will and opinion. In little as well as big things, the movement advocates the principle of unconditional authority of the leader, coupled with the highest responsibility.

That was the way things had worked in the Reich for as long as Heinrich could remember, and for years before. How was the first edition of Mein Kampf different? Willi Dorsch had his copy open, too. He read aloud the passage Heinrich had just found.

"It can't be the same in the first edition," Heinrich said. "If it were-"

"But how could it be different?" Willi asked. "What other way to do things is there?" He'd said Heinrich was more content living in the world as it was, but he was the one for whom that world was water to a fish. He couldn't see beyond what was to what might be.

"There has to be something," Heinrich answered. He didn't know what it was, either, but he could see the possibility. As a Jew, he necessarily perceived the Reich from an outsider's viewpoint. Sometimes, as now, that proved useful. But he found himself longing for Willi's simple certainties at least as often.

"I think the British are just out to make trouble," Willi said now. "They're probably plotting with the Americans. The damned Anglo-Saxons have always been jealous of Germany. For years, they tried to keep the Reich from taking its rightful place in the sun. Now they're paying for it, and I say it serves them right."

He'd learned those lessons in school. So had Heinrich Gimpel. But Heinrich, for reasons of his own, had found he needed to doubt a lot of what his teachers said. As far as he could tell, Willi never doubted. Does that make him a fool, or the luckiest man I know?

"They've spent a long time paying for it," Heinrich said.

"Good," Willi Dorsch declared. "So did we."

"Well, yes." Heinrich couldn't-didn't dare-disagree with that. "Still, I do wonder what's in the first edition."

From his herringbone jacket to his long, narrow, bony face to his decaying teeth, Professor Horace Buckingham might have been a stage Englishman. Even his own countrymen had trouble following his Oxonian accent. It had made the panel discussion on Chaucer's "Wife of Bath's Tale" an ordeal for Susanna Weiss, who'd had to respond again and again to points she wasn't sure she understood.

When the panel ended, the audience applauded politely. Buckingham turned to Susanna. "I thought that went off rather well," he said. His breath was formidable, no doubt because of those mottled teeth.

"Not bad." Susanna still thought his interpretation naive, but she wasn't inclined to argue-not at close range, anyhow. A paper in a learned journal would offer her a more impersonal way to stick a knife in his scholarship, and would also give her something she could show her department chairman.

"Would you care to discuss things further over a drink?" he asked. The way he smiled said scholarship wasn't the only thing on his mind.

I don't want to be within three meters of you, let alone closer. The retort hovered on the tip of Susanna's tongue. Not without regret, she let it die there. She said, "Not now, thanks. I have no more discussions until the evening session, and nothing on the program really draws me, so I am going to go across the street. The British Union of Fascists' meeting has turned out to be fascinating, don't you think?"