Hunter Goforth Following Orders

Chapter 1 Realization

May, 1945

The room in the castle was bright despite the thick gray stone walls. Light streamed from the upper windows into a large hall and spilled into an equally spacious dining room. Tapestries covered the walls and a large, thick oak table seemed to fill the dining room, yet only one man was seated eating his meal. Dressed in a black SS uniform, he read a newspaper while quietly sipping his coffee. After a few minutes the hushed sound of padding bare feet echoed through the stones. The man turned his head toward the sounds.

An older man slowly made his way down a hall and into the great hall, walking unsteadily and bracing himself along the far wall before turning toward the dining room. Dressed in a set of ruffled pajamas and a blue terrycloth robe, the figure was slightly slumped and his left hand seemed to shake uncontrollably. He reached out and steadied himself on the furniture along the way. As he got closer, the SS officer began to notice the old man’s face. It had become lined and gray and his mustache was the only spot of color in a sea of pale white. Even the hair, ruffled and in need of a shampoo, was now streaked with gray. The man looked as if he might collapse at any moment.

The officer stood and pulled out a chair, waiting patiently for the old man to sit. As the older man came closer, he stopped and stared vacantly at the younger man. There was a faint trace of recognition in the blue eyes. “Müller, is that you?” he asked.

Heinrich Müller clicked his heals and quickly raised his right hand in a Nazi salute. “Yes, mein Führer. How are you feeling today?”

Adolf Hitler slumped into the chair, exhausted with the effort. After a few breaths he looked again at Müller. “I am feeling a little better today. Is there some food?” he asked.

“Certainly mein Führer. I shall have my assistant prepare you something,” said. He turned and walked through a door at the narrow end of the hall.

Curious, Hitler picked up the newspaper and began to read the first page. The more he read, the more agitated he became. Color began to fill his face again as his anger rose. When Müller returned he was nearly in a rage. “What is going on here? This is talking about a joint Allied force in Berlin! I put Dönitz in charge. What has he done?” he raged at Müller.

Müller had been waiting three weeks for his Führer to come down from his addictions. Since early in the war Hitler’s doctor had been injecting him with so many things his body was a wreck. From the time he arrived, Hitler had been in a delirium often ranting and raving within his padded room as the drugs slowly lost their hold on him. A trusted SS doctor had patiently brought him through it and had been amazed he had even survived. Only two days before, the Führer had finally become quiet, falling into a deep sleep. He had been moved into his bedroom and allowed to sleep as much as he needed. This was the first time Hitler had even recognized anyone there. Müller feared he might have to lock his Führer up again. But instead of cowering away, he stood his ground.

Müller calmly sat in his own chair beside Hitler. “Mein Führer, Germany surrendered to the Allied powers two weeks ago. Unfortunately, there was nothing anyone could do to stop the Allied advances. Even you were forced to live in that bunker for weeks on end. We saved you from yourself and the Russians!” he said with a stern forcefulness. Müller pointed around him. “We are in a secluded facility built just for the occasion of getting you out of Berlin. We arrived here exactly three weeks ago when Hanna Reitsch flew us from the bunker to a small field west of here. Since that time, you have been very ill,” he said. “Your physician had been giving you injections of everything from morphine to animal urine and it had severely contaminated your mind and your body. For the last three weeks you have been a raving lunatic. We had to place you in a padded room just to keep you from harming yourself. Now that you have finally quieted down we might get some things done,” Müller said. Even he had calmed some with the explanation.

Hitler became quiet. He could not remember being scolded like that before and he didn’t have the strength to argue. He thought for a moment. His memory was still a little blurry and he was forcing himself to remember. After a minute he got a puzzled look on his face. “But I was preparing to…”

“We could not allow that to happen, mein Führer,” Müller said sternly. “Several of us in the SS made plans as early as 1943 to ensure your continued survival even if all else failed. As a part of those plans a double was put in your place and we escaped to here.”

“What about Eva and the others?

“Führer, Eva died in the bunker along with your double. Their bodies were cremated as you had planned. The others have mostly been captured. You have read what happened since. With you gone, there was no other hope,” Müller said sadly.

Hitler slumped further in his seat. He lifted his eyes towards the ceiling. “Poor Eva. In many ways she was just a child. I only married her to make her happy one last time.” He sighed and shook his head. “No, I believe you are right. It was practically all over anyway. The Russians were already in Berlin, the Americans were coming up from the south and the British from the west. We just didn’t have a way to stop them.” Hitler looked around and shook his head. “All our work and plans, gone. We built a great nation, only to surrender it away.” He looked at Müller. “Why didn’t you let me die? It would have been so much better,” Hitler said in a soft voice, resigning to his fate.

Müller stiffened. He was never one to give up. There were always alternatives and he was a part of a very good one. “No, mein Führer. You are here because your work is not yet complete. Do not forget we were with you from the beginning and we continue to believe in what you were trying to do. We have all read ‘Mein Kampf’ and learned much from it. Your ideals made Germany strong. It was the timing and a few unseen events which changed our destiny,” Müller said strongly. The old zeal he had felt in his youth returned to him and he seemed to swell with pride. He leaned in towards Hitler. “Here in this place General Kammler and I have made our plans and put away the tools to return Germany to greatness. We have loyal men still with us and no matter how long it takes we will make Germany stronger still. Your job, mein Führer, is to plan the Fourth Reich. You will help give us a direction again,” he said firmly.

“Führer, we have studied what happened in the Third Reich and we have learned from our mistakes. This time we shall have patience to wait for just the right moment to act. This time we shall not be so eager to pounce or so anxious to expand. We have in our hands the right tools, men and equipment to begin the rise of a new Germany!” Müller said forcefully. “We have the funds to do even more! We will create the Reich you wanted to make for us and we will do it in our own time and our own way. Mein Führer, the Third Reich is dead. Let us build a stronger one to replace it,” he said firmly.

As he listened, Hitler’s face seemed to come back to life. The eyes lost their vacant stare, his chin firmed and his lips firmed up and began to smile. This was the spirit he remembered in the beer halls of the 20s and 30s. This was the look of the faces at the Nuremburg rallies and throughout Germany before the war. The spirit of the National Socialist German Worker’s Party was not dead. He would build on that Nazi spirit. He looked into Müller’s eyes. “Tell me what we have available. Then we shall begin work,” he said with a grim resolution.

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