Hitler’s Taster

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 crowd and shake hands with well-wishers.

My heart raced at the thought that I would be working at his secluded retreat. My feeling arose more from excitement about my post rather than any admiration for Hitler. I imagined seeing the diplomats, the foreign visitors, the important Party members: Bormann, Göring, Speer, Goebbels, many of whom visited the Berghof almost daily.

Soon we came to an area cleared of forest as the road climbed upward. Through the driver’s windscreen a rustic-looking gatehouse appeared beside a gated archway. The rough-hewn structure rested on a rock base. Several SS men peered through a window as our car approached. One of the guards stepped out and pulled back the gate. He must have known the driver, for they exchanged nothing more than a wave. Another guard stood in the gatehouse doorway, his weapon strapped over his shoulder. They barely gave me a look, unimpressed with my presence. They were used to seeing kings, princes and diplomats from all over the world.

As we drove past the gate, I caught sight of the Berghof. It sat perched on the hillside, like an eagle preparing for flight. Its chalet style had been modified to monumental architecture, yet the sloping wings of the roof gave it an inherent lightness. Perhaps the mountain air made it seem delicate and airy, unlike the fortified home of a leader at war. The sun glinted off the white exterior giving it a welcoming look. I watched in awe as it slipped past my eyes. The car rounded a corner near a linden tree and headed toward a small driveway that split off from the one we were on. The driver was taking me to the entrance of a long building on the east side of the structure. He stopped the car and opened the door.

‘You are to see Fräulein Schultz, the Führer’s cook. I will take your luggage to your quarters.’

‘The cook?’ I was dumbfounded. Although I had experience preparing meals for my family, I hardly felt qualified to cook for the leader of the Third Reich.

‘Those are my orders.’ He shifted his head toward the door and a guard stepped out of the shadows. ‘Take Fräulein Ritter to the cook.’ The driver got into the car, turned it around and drove toward the main entrance of the Berghof.

The guard stepped forward, opened the door and led me through the halls to the kitchen. Although it was early, a large staff had already gathered for meal preparation. The room was well appointed with modern equipment. Several stoves and ovens were set against the walls, as well as racks of dishes and cookware. Cookbooks lay scattered across a large table. Men and women dressed in service uniforms were kneading dough, preparing eggs and cutting fruits and vegetables. A tall woman with an oval face and wavy brown hair stood out from the crowd. She projected authority in her dark dress covered by a white apron. She was talking with a man at a black stone sink. When she spotted me, she stopped her conversation and walked over.

‘You must be Fräulein Ritter,’ she said.

‘I am.’ I shook her hand. ‘You are Fräulein Schultz?’

‘Yes. The Führer’s dietician and cook.’ She looked at me with concern. ‘What have they told you about your position?’

I shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘Come with me to my office off the kitchen. You’ll be staying here in the east wing so you can be close to me, the kitchen staff and the other tasters.’

I didn’t understand. We went into the hall past the kitchen to a series of doors. Hers was the first. She opened it with a key and we stepped inside the small room. She took off her apron and sat at her desk while I took a seat in the guest chair. A window faced north, the same direction as the Berghof, looking out upon the sprawling view of the Untersberg. She turned to me with her hands folded in her lap.

‘You have been chosen,’ she began, ‘by me and Captain Karl Weber, the SS officer who oversees the security of my staff. You are one of fifteen.’

I shifted in my seat. ‘Fifteen what?’

‘Tasters who work for the Führer at his headquarters.’

‘Tasters?’ I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Perhaps you could explain what that means.’

She looked at me like a teacher who was irritated with a student. ‘You, and others, taste the Führer’s food. Your body is offered in sacrifice to the Reich in case the food is poisoned.’

My breath fled, horrified as I was at her words. The cook must have recognized the distress in my face, for she reached across and held my hand.

‘There’s no need to panic,’ she said. ‘I will tell you frankly, he is obsessed with being poisoned. He thinks the British have it in for him – it’s all very Shakespearean if you ask me. Why would they resort to such medieval tactics when one well-placed assassin’s bullet would do? His personal physician could poison him as well, but we don’t taste his medicines. Your chances of being poisoned are slim. After all, we all sample the food as it’s prepared.’ And with a sly glance she said, ‘Still, I suppose there’s always a chance. I suppose you may not be ready for such candor, but you need to know the truth.’

‘This is why I was chosen for civilian service?’

She withdrew her hands and returned to her businesslike demeanor. ‘Yes. Apparently, the Reichsbund felt you were qualified for this position. It’s a great honor.’

I didn’t know how to respond, so I said meekly, ‘I suppose it is.’ I thought of my uncle Willy and wondered if he would be proud of my position. His recommendation had gotten me here.

‘You will be working with me,’ she explained. ‘If you do a good job, I have other duties you might pursue, such as bookkeeping for the kitchen. That’s an important task as well. We have full growing capabilities for food – greenhouses you will become familiar with.’ She paused and studied my face. ‘You’re pretty. There are plenty of attractive men here, enough to keep a flirtatious girl busy. I discourage intimate fraternization with officers and other staff. We have movies, dancing sometimes, but you must remember you are in service to the Führer. Your personal life is of no consequence.’

I shuddered. My life might end here. Not even the bombings in Berlin had forced me to face my mortality in such a brutal way. The thought that I might die for Hitler stunned me. An unwitting trap had been set and closed over me. My parents had sent me away, Uncle Willy had pulled strings and now I was in a position that might lead to my death. My mind raced, thinking of ways that I might get away from the Berghof. But where would I go?

She stood and I felt dwarfed by her figure. Apparently, she could read my thoughts, too. ‘I wouldn’t be hasty in your conclusions. If you reject your position there could be serious consequences. You might never work again. As I said, the risk is slight. When the war is over, your service to the Reich will be rewarded.’ She picked up her apron. ‘I must get back to the kitchen.’ She lifted the hair that fell across my left cheek before she opened the door. ‘Captain Weber was right. You are pretty – in a different way. Perhaps that’s why you were chosen. He wants to talk with you. Wait here.’

She left me sitting alone in the office. I bent over, covered my face with my hands and waited for the SS officer. In a matter of days, my life had changed from that of a common German girl to one of importance in the Reich. My head spun from what fate had thrown my way so quickly. The thought of dying, let alone for Hitler, had rarely entered my young head. Like a trapped animal there was nothing I could do. To back out would place shame and derision on my family, perhaps even open them to questioning. I could only wait and hope for the best.

The handsome officer came a few minutes later.

‘You are prettier than your photos,’ he said after he had a chance to look at me. His words were offered in a factual tone with no sexual innuendo intended. I thanked him, but with little enthusiasm. After all, what did my looks have to do with tasting food?

Fräulein Schultz had called him ‘Captain.’ The insignia on SS uniforms meant little to me. There were two patches on each side of his collar. One contained two silver bolts that looked like lightning.

His blondish-brown hair, parted on the right, swept back from his forehead. His mouth was sensuous, not cruel; the bow in the upper lip carried a distinctive cleft. His hazel eyes were topped by long brows that curved like arches to either side of his nose – a pleasing feature in its own right – strong and chiseled to a fine point. Perhaps his ears were his only flaw. They were large for the size of his face. Nevertheless, they didn’t detract from the officer’s overall appearance. I was drawn to him, but what woman wouldn’t have been? I knew, of course, that such an attraction was dangerous. He could have me shot as easily as he might take me in his arms.

‘You have been chosen for a dangerous job,’ he said.

I watched as he took a seat in the cook’s chair and withdrew a pack of cigarettes; but, finding no ashtray, he replaced them in his jacket pocket.

‘I didn’t ask for it,’ I said. ‘I had no idea what my job would be until ten minutes ago.’

He settled back. ‘You can always leave. The Führer is not an impossible man. Many have come and gone here.’

‘That’s not my wish,’ I said, hoping to overcome my own doubts. What else would I do? Reina would not be happy if I ended up on her doorstep. ‘I need to work. And, besides, I’ve been told that finding any work might be impossible if I leave the Berghof.’

He offered his hand. ‘I understand.’ His eyes shifted from business, as if he understood my plight. ‘My name is Karl Weber. I’m an officer in the security detail assigned to oversee the kitchen and dining. Not exactly an exciting job, but I suppose I’ve earned it. I fought in Poland and France. The fighting was pretty rough, but not as rough as our troops on the Eastern Front have had to endure.’

‘Were you wounded?’

‘No, I was lucky.’

We sat for a moment and I was unsure of what to say. My fate had been sealed by the Reichsbund and there was little I could do about it. To leave would bring disgrace upon my parents. My aunt might throw me out on the street. I remembered I needed to call Willy and Reina to let them know what I was doing. ‘May I make a phone call? Do I have that privilege?’

He laughed. ‘You’re not a prisoner. Of course you can make a call. However, every telephone conversation at the Berghof is monitored. You have no privacy here. Whom do you wish to call?’

‘I told my aunt and uncle I would let them know where I was.’

‘Don’t bother. They and your parents have been informed you’re in the Führer’s service. They were all pleased; however, they don’t know what you will be doing. I wouldn’t recommend telling them. Also, it’s best now that you have limited communication with those outside the Berghof.’

‘I have few friends to talk to, but I should ignore my mother and father as well?’

He studied me and leaned forward. ‘Fräulein Ritter, please understand a few things about your job. One, you are under my and the cook’s command. More important, you serve the leader of the Third Reich. Two, your life from this point on will never be the same. Three, if you wish to leave you must do it now because there will be no turning back once I leave this room.’ He looked at me intently. ‘You’re not a Party member, are you?’

I shook my head. Being a Party member was apparently something I couldn’t escape.

‘Perhaps you should be.’ He looked out the window toward the mountains whose colors were shifting in the morning sunlight from purple to dark green. Still facing them, he said, ‘I was the one who chose you. Cook wanted another girl, but I insisted.’

‘Cook?’

‘Fräulein Schultz. She had another in mind, but I recognized something different in you. I couldn’t explain it. She wouldn’t have understood my reasoning. But now that I’ve met you, I realize I was right in my assumption. Otherwise, I would insist that you leave.’ He turned to me.

I twisted in my chair. ‘Should I be flattered?’

His jaw clenched. ‘No, you should be frightened for your life. But I know you are fit for this job. I understand you, and, in time, we will get to know each other.’

He stood at attention before me and raised his right arm stiffly toward the wall. ‘Sieg Heil!’

I got to my feet but didn’t salute and said nothing. Oddly, I felt distracted and somewhat soiled, as if I had been hoodwinked by the Reichsbund and Captain Weber. The officer gave me a look, but it was thoughtful, not one of anger or defiance. He showed little emotion, seeming to accept I had no use for politics or war.

‘You will use the salute when it is needed,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I’m sure you know how.’ The salute was used everywhere. He opened the door and left me alone.

For several weeks, I learned the kitchen routine. I scrubbed and washed pots, helped carry food to the servers, cleaned the stoves and refrigeration units and watched with interest as the cooks prepared the meals. Cook laughed when I asked if Hitler was in residence. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Why would we go to such trouble otherwise? Not for Bormann or Göring. They have their own chefs. And certainly we wouldn’t work this hard for some minor bureaucrat.’

Captain Weber checked on my progress almost daily. The kitchen was small enough that we saw each other quite often. Many times he stood nearby watching me and Cook, until she became irritated and with a scolding look ushered him out of the room.

‘You have better things to do than waste time with us,’ she said.

He smiled back and told us he wanted to make sure everything in the kitchen was up to the Führer’s high standards.

I knew this was only a ploy on his part to get close to me. My head and heart turned to him when he was in the room. It was hard to concentrate on work when the handsome Captain stood nearby. I enjoyed his attention.

Cook also issued instructions: I should never wander alone in the Berghof, only speak when spoken to and never disturb or interrupt a conversation, particularly one involving the Führer – if I ever encountered him, which according to Cook would be a rarity. She also told me that the SS were everywhere and knew everything we were involved in, including our personal habits. This unsettled me so much I had an uneasy feeling every time I went to the bathroom. I searched the walls and ceiling for a microphone.

An SS officer I only knew as a Colonel in the Leibstandarte often lurked nearby. He had a pleasant face with round blue eyes, a square jaw and a prominent cleft in his chin; however, a veneer of icy impenetrability masked any warmth he might have carried. Everyone in the kitchen kept their distance unless they were serving him.

‘Stay away from him,’ Cook warned. ‘He would turn on his mother.’

I wasn’t sure why she had warned me. Perhaps a member of the kitchen staff had gotten in trouble with the Colonel. I didn’t ask. I heeded my aversion to the man and kept my distance.

My roommate was a young woman from Munich by the name of Ursula Thalberg, who had worked at the Berghof for several months. Ursula had an oval face framed by blond curls. She also exhibited an outgoing and buoyant personality. Her face was often lit by smiles when she talked. Like most of us, her politics were fueled by what we knew of the Party through the Reich papers and radio broadcasts. Ursula was more concerned with the ‘Faith and Beauty’ program, a voluntary plan espoused by the Reich to make us into model German women, than with politics. I knew of the program, but had little use for it. For the most part, Ursula and I were content to take mountain walks and practice our outdoor gymnastics in pleasant weather. Ursula also was a taster.

Our room was small but comfortable, with two single beds, a desk, a chair and a phone. A few books and mementoes lined the shelves, and a tiny closet held our uniforms and civilian clothing. My stuffed monkey found a home on my pillow.

Ursula smoked, but only when she had no fear of being caught. Cook had said Hitler strongly discouraged men and women in his service from using tobacco. One night, not long after we had met, Ursula turned off the lights, opened the window and exhaled the smoke under the sill as we talked. I hadn’t taken up my position yet and was full of questions.

‘Aren’t you scared of being poisoned?’ I asked.

She chuckled. ‘Not really. I’m much too young to die. Besides, the Führer is so well protected, who could possibly poison him? The traitor would be found out immediately and die a horrible death.’

I was amazed at her nonchalance. ‘What’s it like being a taster?’ I was determined to find out more about my job, despite the ugly possibility of being poisoned. The more I knew, the less chance I had of dying.

Ursula puffed on her cigarette, parted the floral-print curtains and blew the smoke out the window. ‘There’s not much to it, really. The cook spoons out a serving from each dish. The serving is taken from various points in the dish – not from one spot. Several of us taste the food and then we wait. Sometimes we drink as well, if a bottle has been opened. We have to eat an hour before the Führer, in case …’

‘No one has died?’

‘No, but several tasters have gotten sick.’ She laughed and then added, ‘But I think their illnesses were caused by the soldiers they kissed the night before. There’s nothing wrong with the food. You’ve seen it. Only the best comes from the greenhouses, and it’s always prepared in the most delicious manner. If you think about it, we’re lucky we don’t have to deal with rations like the rest of the country.’

I settled on my bed and cradled my stuffed monkey in my arms.

‘You look ridiculous with that toy,’ Ursula said.

I flipped the monkey in the air and caught him in my arms. ‘I know, but he reminds me of home and my family.’

‘I don’t miss Munich. I love it here.’ Then her mood darkened and she lowered her voice. ‘How much do you know about the war?’

I shook my head. ‘Little – just what we hear on the radio and read in the papers.’

Ursula took another puff. ‘The soldiers here talk, especially if you’re pretty, even though they’re not supposed to.’ She winked. ‘I know we will win the war, but there are rumors going around that the Allies and our Eastern foes are gaining ground. Some say it’s only a matter of time before Germany falls.’ She shook a finger at me. ‘Don’t spread that around.’

I believed we might come to a stalemate with the Allies, but losing the war was something I’d never considered despite my father’s negative feelings. The suggestion of having to deal with the enemy horde chilled me. It was too much to think about in one evening. Ursula saw my uneasiness as I shrunk back against the wall.

‘How does the Colonel feel about such talk?’ I asked.

‘He’s a dangerous man,’ Ursula said. She reached under the bed, pulled out an ashtray and snuffed out her cigarette. The smell of burned tobacco filled our room. Ursula waved her hands, trying to get the smoke out the window. She peered out. ‘If he caught me smoking, he’d report me in a second.’

‘I’m beginning to feel like I’m in prison,’ I said, having no idea what a real prison would be like.

She shrugged. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll have your class in poisons soon. It’s most interesting. Cook explains it well. You learn to identify them by sight, taste and smell.’

‘Taste?’ I asked, wondering how such a process could exist.

‘A pinprick of a taste. A lick of the fingertip. Not enough to harm you – at least for most poisons.’

I shivered and yearned to shift the conversation to another topic. I’d learned enough for one evening. ‘Would you like to do something tonight? I feel restless.’

Ursula’s eyes lit up, making me wonder whether she had secretly wanted to go out all along. ‘I was going to read, but let’s take a walk instead. It’s too late to go to a movie at the Theater Hall, but the SS barracks are up the hill.’ She fluffed her hair and looked at her face in a compact mirror.

We put on our coats and walked through the east wing of the Berghof. A guard stationed at the door where the driver had dropped me off nodded as we passed. Ursula said, ‘Good evening.’ She was familiar with many of the soldiers. Because we were in the immediate area surrounding the residence, we did not need to show passes. Ursula said that if we had wanted to visit anywhere outside the perimeter the SS would question us.

The SS barracks stood on the hill to the southeast of the Berghof. The four main buildings were constructed around a central field used by the corps for drills and inspections. Ursula said many of the men would still be up and she would introduce me to a few of the officers. We strolled around the barracks and peered into the field. The buildings were darkened by the blackout blinds. Now and then the breeze would lift a blind and a warm buttery light would pulse out, only to be extinguished as quickly as it appeared. Ursula and I walked in the milky light of a quarter moon, which shone through the silky clouds.

After a little while, we came upon a group of soldiers standing near the corner of the southern barracks. We spotted them by their dark silhouettes and the orange flare of their cigarettes. They were laughing and quite unaware of our presence. Two of them were without shirts and shoes, wearing only pants hitched up by suspenders strapped over their bare shoulders. As we approached they gave us a friendly greeting and salute, and one of them reached out to Ursula and gave her a kiss on the hand, much to the delight of the others. She introduced me to the soldier, Franz Faber. He was blond, with a wide smile, and a few inches taller than Ursula. A scar ran down the left side of his face. Ursula and Franz were so familiar with the group they forgot that I knew no one. The other men drifted away and left me standing awkwardly with the couple. I didn’t want to be uninvited company, so I ventured farther into the courtyard. That was when a man called out my name.

I turned and saw Captain Weber. He was one of the men without a shirt and shoes, but I hadn’t recognized him in the crowd. I flushed with embarrassment because Ursula and I had interrupted their gathering. I wrapped my collar tighter around my neck.

‘It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?’ He held out his hand.

I shook it politely and nodded. ‘I’m walking with Fräulein Thalberg.’ I looked at my watch. ‘We should be getting back to the Berghof. I’m sorry to disturb you.’

‘Nonsense.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s too chilly to stand out here under the moon. Won’t you come inside for a moment?’

‘Cook wouldn’t like that. I believe she would refer to it as “fraternization.’’’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry about Cook. I can handle her.’

I had never been in a barracks and wasn’t sure I should be, but how could I resist the Captain’s invitation? I had nothing to go back to but my lonely quarters. Ursula and her companion stood where I’d left them. I waved my arms until I got her attention and then pointed to Karl. She immediately understood and waved back. The officer directed me to the barracks entrance. His private room was only a few feet away. He opened the door and we stepped inside.

His quarters were small, similar to what Ursula and I lived in, but, unlike me, Captain Weber lived alone. The window, shielded by its blackout curtain, looked toward the central field. The room contained a bed, a desk and enough wall space and shelves to display the certificates, medals and trophies awarded during his education and from the Reich. His uniform jacket hung on the back of the door. His polished black boots rested at the foot of his bed.