Hitler's Last Witness by Rochus Misch

considered how I should now greet Eva when I met her. ‘Frau Hitler’ – that did not seem possible. ‘Frau Hitler’ did not suit Eva, the Führer’s girl, and neither did it suit Hitler to be a married man. The bodyguard speculated later that Hitler had only wanted to make Eva ‘Frau Hitler’ to preserve convention at the end – above all for Eva’s parents, so that everything should ultimately be in order. The Brauns must not live with the shame of their daughter having died as a concubine.
    Thoughts about the correct form of address for Eva Hitler and the whole marriage thing had long given way to the big question: When will we have the suicide? Sunk in contemplation, I failed to notice that Traudl Junge had quietly sat down on the only other seat by the telephone switchboard and begun to type up something from her dictation pad. ‘My Political Testament’ – I could not read anything else. Frau Junge typed three copies in a business-like manner.
    While she was making the fair copies, Bormann and Goebbels appeared and gave her something more urgent to do. More urgent than Hitler’s Testament? Yes, apparently so. [14] In the early morning, it was between five and six o’clock, the copies of this last Will were sent by courier – one to Dönitz, a second one to Schörner and the last to the NSDAP headquarters in Munich. Therefore, it could not be much longer now – and Hitler would finally put an end to himself. My telephone lines ran hot because of the failure to arrest Himmler.
    Meanwhile, the noose around our necks grew ever tighter. It was clear to all that at any moment the Russians could storm the bunker. I still had lines to almost all of Berlin, and so I rang civilians at random to find out where the Red Army was. I discovered later that the Russians were doing exactly the same in order to establish their own frontline. It was dreadfully stuffy in my small switchboard, and made me sleepy. I approved a few cognacs for myself.
    My former company commander Mohnke was ordered to Hitler in his capacity as battle commander of the government district. How long can we still hold out, Hitler wanted to know. ‘No longer than twenty, at the most twenty-four hours,’ I heard Mohnke state. Without speaking to me Mohnke left the Führerbunker.
    Shortly afterwards, I observed Professor Werner Haase, since 1935 Hitler’s travelling physician, having a quiet conversation with Hitler in the lobby. Haase would usually be found operating on the wounded in the field hospital below the Reich Chancellery. He and Hitler finally emerged into the corridor and stood in front of my telephone switchboard. At that moment, Feldwebel Fritz Tornow led in Blondi. Haase and Tornow then disappeared with the dog into the washroom about three metres from my post. The door was left open, and I peered in. Tornow held Blondi’s nose up, and Haase thrust a pair of tongs inside the mouth to drop a small object inside. There was a cracking sound and Blondi quickly collapsed. Hitler made a few steps forward and observed for a few seconds. Then he turned away silently and returned to his room. There was a smell of bitter almonds. After the dead Blondi had been dragged away, Tornow took her five pups, born at the beginning of the month, into the Reich Chancellery garden and shot them dead. Now I could be sure. If Hitler had decided to kill his beloved dog, then it would not be long until he followed her in death.
    First, I had to get away as soon as possible from this workplace stinking of bitter almonds. In the cellar of the New Reich Chancellery I came across the next macabre scene. Music and singing were coming from the room near the field hospital. The six Goebbels children were sitting together with their parents at a long table singing:
    The blue dragoons they are riding
With drum and fife through the gate,
Fanfares accompany them,
Ringing to the hills above.
    A young