The Kindly Ones

Leland or Mandelbrod, whenever I found myself near them, chatted to me about various things, but neither one seemed to have anything special to say to me. I began to wonder why they had invited me: certainly not so I could enjoy Fräulein Heide’s charms. But when I thought about the question again, at the end of the afternoon, in the von Wredes’ car, which was taking me back to Berlin, the answer seemed obvious: it was to put me in contact with Speer, so I could get closer to him. And that seemed to have had its effect; when it was time to go, Speer had taken leave of me very cordially, and had promised me that we would see each other again. But one question troubled me: What was the point? In whose interest were Herr Leland and Dr. Mandelbrod bringing me up in this way? For there was no doubt it was a question of pla

I knew Thomas well enough to know without asking him what he would have advised: cover yourself. On the Monday morning, I requested a meeting with Brandt, which he granted me that afternoon. I described to him my weekend and told him about my conversations with Speer, the main points of which I had already jotted down in an aide-mémoire that I gave him. Brandt didn’t seem to disapprove. “So he asked you to bring him to visit Dora?” That was the code name for the installation Speer had mentioned to me, officially called Mittelbau, “Central Construction.”—“His ministry has filed a request. We haven’t replied yet.”—“And what do you think of it, Standartenführer?”—“I don’t know. It’s up to the Reichsführer to decide. That said, you did well to report to me.” He briefly discussed my work too, and I told him about the initial impressions that emerged from the documents I had studied. When I got up to go, he said: “I think the Reichsführer is satisfied with the course things are taking. Continue on as you are.”

After this meeting I went back to my offices to work. It was pouring outside, I could barely see the trees of the Tiergarten through the downpour whipping the leaf-stripped branches. Around five o’clock, I let Fräulein Praxa go; Walser and Obersturmführer Elias, another specialist sent by Brandt, left at around six o’clock, with Isenbeck. An hour later I went to find Asbach, who was still working. “Are you coming, Untersturmführer? I’ll buy you a drink.” He looked at his watch: “Don’t you think they’re coming back? It’s almost their time.” I looked out the window: it was dark out and still raining a little. “You think—with this weather?” But in the lobby the porter stopped us: “Luftgefahr Fifteen, meine Herren,” a serious raid on its way. They must have detected the planes ahead of time. I turned to Asbach and said cheerfully: “You were right, after all. What should we do? Take our chances outside or wait in here?” Asbach looked a little worried: “It’s just that I have my wife…”—“In my opinion, you don’t have time to go home. I would have given you Piontek, but he left already.” I thought. “We’d do better to wait here till it passes, you can go home afterward. Your wife will go to a shelter, she’ll be fine.” He hesitated: “Listen, Sturmba