Her Hidden Life: A captivating story of history, danger and risking it all for love. V.S. Alexander

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       CHAPTER 3

      I reported to the Riechsbund the next morning. Instead of being greeted by the woman who’d taken my information the day before, an SS officer met me. He smiled pleasantly and asked me to take a seat in front of the desk. As I studied his face, handsome with Nordic features, I made a connection I had not considered before. Most SS men were young and similar in facial structure. The Führer wanted them to be Aryan. They were thinly muscular, usually blond and blue-eyed and driven by their adoration for their leader. They wore black uniforms when the Party first came to power, but recently they dressed only in gray. This young man was clothed in black and I understood later he was a member of the Führer’s Leibstandarte, his personal protection corps at the Berghof.

      I asked the SS man what job I would be doing. He gave no specific reply, only that I would have to wait and accept service without hesitation. He opened a file on the desk that had been marked with the Reich’s seal and spread the photos of me across the desk.

      ‘You’re not a Party member?’ he asked, and then lit a cigarette.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Why not?’ Smoke flowed like a white ribbon from his mouth.

      ‘There was no need.’ My answer was simple and direct. Young women need not join unless they were motivated by politics – a highly unusual profession. I was not the only one who thought that way. A few of my girlfriends were as unconcerned about the Party as I was. We all felt the same. For a man, the feeling was different. It was a badge of honor, a matter of pride, to serve the Reich and go to war.

      ‘Germany has changed.’ He pursed his lips, gathered the photos in his hands and studied each before tossing them one by one on the table. ‘You are not what the Führer would typically request. You are too dark, too Eastern looking. One might question your loyalties – your heritage.’

      I lowered my gaze, taken aback by his effrontery. After a few moments, I raised my head and looked him in the eye, more out of spite than anything else. ‘No, I am not a Party member, but I am proud to be a German. There is nothing in my background, or heritage, to give you concern.’

      He smiled. ‘That’s more like it. Show some spirit.’ He leaned back in the desk chair and puffed on his cigarette. ‘We have contacted your aunt and uncle, your parents in Berlin, even a few friends and neighbors. Your record is in good standing. You understand we must be careful.’

      Over the next hour, he questioned me about my education, work habits, hobbies, even whether I had plans to have children, every personal question the Party could possibly dredge up. I answered his questions truthfully and he seemed satisfied. He then gave me a battery of tests on mathematics, arts and sciences and politics. I believed I did poorly on most of them, particularly the political questions, which had much to do with Germany’s history and the Nazi rise to power. I finished before twelve and he dismissed me.

      I stopped at the door and turned. ‘You said I was not what the Führer would typically request.’ A lump rose in my throat, but I got up enough nerve to ask the question. ‘Am I to work for the Führer?’

      His lips parted in a thin smile and his eyes met mine. ‘I have nothing to do with your assignment. I’m only here to make sure you are not deficient in any area required by the Reich. That’s all I can say.’ He stood and bowed slightly. ‘Good day, Fräulein Ritter.’

      I closed the door. Through the office window I saw him place my examinations and photos back in my file. I didn’t smoke and I rarely drank, but at that moment I wished I had some vice to indulge because my nerves thrummed like a plucked violin string.

      Over the next two weeks, I trained for my unnamed position. I rose early and arrived home late, but my schedule created little hardship for my aunt and uncle except for the disruption of having me as a houseguest. During training, the Party served us breakfast, lunch and a small supper. My aunt did not have to cook for me. That suited her.

      One of the things I enjoyed most was my group’s excursions into the countryside surrounding Berchtesgaden. The staff judged us in calisthenics. The tests were conducted in a serene Alpine field near the Hoher Göll mountain. My lungs acclimated to the rarified air and I soon realized I was more coordinated than some of my new friends. I ran fast, particularly in sprints. My long legs served me well. Every night I fell exhausted into a dreamless sleep. After an initial soreness, my muscles grew stronger and tighter. I lost weight. I never got around to joining the Party. Frankly, I didn’t want to.

      After my training was over, I had one day of rest and relaxation at Willy and Reina’s before beginning my mysterious new post. The woman who had interviewed me at the Reichsbund called to say I should be ready to depart at 5:45 the next morning with my bags.

      My aunt and uncle talked later than usual after supper. Willy was excited about my new job; his freckled face beamed with pride. We said our good-byes and I promised to call them once I arrived at my new duties.

      Pink clouds streaked the sky the next morning. My uncle stood at the door, dressed in his police uniform. My aunt, in her long blue housecoat, looked over his shoulder. A black Mercedes touring car pulled up in front of the house and an SS chauffeur got out. SS corps flags fluttered above each headlight. Without a word, for he must have known me from my pictures, the driver placed my luggage in the trunk and held the door open for me. I took my place in the plush leather backseat. I will always remember the look on my aunt’s face – it was one of happiness mixed with jealousy. Now she knew my job was important. Other civilian servants were not treated in such a royal manner.

      I waved as the car pulled away and the driver turned east toward the Obersalzberg. I had no idea where we were headed. We drove through the pleasant valley that cradled Berchtesgaden and passed the tidy farms surrounding the town. The driver said little to me as we headed higher into the mountainous terrain; the deciduous trees became fewer as stands of fir and spruce carpeted the hillsides. The valley spread out below and I could see the church spires of Berchtesgaden.

      Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I asked the SS driver where we were headed.

      He took his eyes off the road for a moment, looked into the rearview mirror and said, ‘The Berghof.’

      I’d heard of Hitler’s ‘mountain court’ from my parents and my aunt and uncle. Before the war, it had become a tourist attraction after the Führer had taken up residence. People had gathered on the long driveway outside the main house to catch a glimpse of him. Often he stepped out to greet the adoring СКАЧАТЬ