Chapter Five

Tribulation

Martin Kruppe: January 1938

There were four people in the automobile, when the crash took Victoria's mother. Victoria's mother, Princess Marie and her brother Prince Reimund were in the front. Victoria, only a small child, and her nursemaid were in the rear. No one knows why, but the auto left the road and struck a tree.

Prince Reimund, who was driving, was killed outright. Princess Marie was hurt, hurt very bad. The nursemaid, she was an English girl called Betty, was hurt too. Victoria, asleep on the back seat, was only bruised and scratched. It was her, a child of seven, who went running to a nearby farmhouse to call for help.

There was no helping Reimund and for Marie, the best help was not enough. John Chesterfield, Victoria's father, went with his wife to the hospital in Munich. Princess Marie, the darling of Bavaria, lingered for a week before slipping away.

And what of the brave little girl who went running for help? Her nursemaid was too unwell to take care of her and the girl who was given charge of Victoria, an idiot called Lottie, was more interested in gossip than watching a child. Who knows why, but even in that week as her mother lingered, the little Princess began disappearing for hours at a time. I doubt if Lottie even noticed. She was useless that girl.

It was me, under-gamekeeper to my father, who found the little Princess in the forest. She was sitting in a glade, sobbing her tiny heart out. Wanting to cheer her, I took her in hand and began showing her all the little creatures in our forest. She kept running away and found me on every day subsequent, until after her mother's death. Shirking my work, I did my best to cheer her, with the wonders of our country.

John Chesterfield returned to Brunnenstadt grief stricken. Of course he went to seek out his daughter. She was not to be found anywhere around the Palace. Lottie, of course, had no idea where the child was. There was panic for some time until, some hours later, I returned her home.

John Chesterfield was a very clever man. Even in his grief he recognized the quiet his little Princess had found in the forest would help her heal. I was part of that place, and John Chesterfield understood that. So he used me to help bring his Victoria back to him. Along the way I came inside with her and in a way I remained.

John came close to taking his daughter back to his home in England. Two things swayed him to remain, an understanding that Victoria needed no more change and a desire to stay in the country his wife had loved so.

Unusually, once she had learned her junior schooling with a governess, Victoria was not sent away to boarding school. John could not bear to be parted from his daughter. Nor she from him, or I guess by then, from me.

This choice, probably shaped her life as much as her mother's death. It was in school carnivals that Victoria discovered her love of running, of competing and of winning. It went in natural steps, from ribbons at school, to ribbons in the regional competition, to medals in the state competition at Munich, to a win at national level in Berlin. Once she had it under her skin there was no stopping her and it all led, a few years later, to gold and glory at the Berlin Olympics in 1936.

Into the middle of all this marched the Nazis. From this distant time, it is hard to understand the effect they had on the country, in particular Bavaria. From the doom and gloom of the depression, to the promise of glory, almost everyone was carried along by the excitement of a better future. And of course, the young were carried along more than others.

Even John Chesterfield, an Englishman, thought at first the Nazis were a force for positive change. They were good for business and were a rampart against the Communists. His first doubts were raised by how they swayed his daughter’s young mind. Her unquestioning devotion to the dream made him wonder. Then of course the Nazis began rearming. Germany began to flex her muscle.

Step by step, John’s concern grew, he began making plans to leave well before the Czechoslovakian crisis, but by then of course, he had all but lost his daughter to her Aryan Superman. John and Victoria had already been slowly getting more strained in their dealings. They loved each other dearly, but could not see eye to eye on almost anything. It was in January 1938 that it finally came to a head.

John did not stand on ceremony as Victoria's uncle and grandfather did. As I was their friend, I was often invited to sit with them, servant though I was. Particularly at breakfasts, John liked to hear what was happening on the estate and I could tell him what I had seen on my early morning rounds.

So, I happened to be there on that morning. I remember Victoria played with the food on her plate, as if she were not really hungry. She was always hungry, she ate like a horse, but not that day. I remember she kept looking across at her father, who was buried in his most recent copy of The Times.

After close to twenty years in Germany, he still insisted on reading the London papers at breakfast, even though they were usually four or five days late by the time they reached him.

That morning she had something to say and was unsure how her father would take it. By now they had been fighting for six months about Gausel. They were tiptoeing around each other, like a pair of hounds that have scented a bitch, each of them injured by the fight, neither willing to give way.

Finally, she screwed up her courage enough to speak. ‘I talked to Ebert on the phone last night.’

Her father grunted a noncommittal reply, but she went on. ‘He says they’re promoting him to Sturmbannführer.’

John Chesterfield sighed, no doubt he simply wished the viper would disappear. He hated talking about the man. When they did it usually ended in blazing rows over what he thought was Victoria's scandalous behavior. It was plain to everyone with half a brain, she had been sleeping with Gausel for months. If they did not fight, it went to what seemed to be inane prattle about how wonderful her SS hero was. John said to me, on more than one occasion, ‘Love does not seem to have improved Victoria's cognitive skills.’

John carefully folded his paper and sat it on the breakfast table. ‘I am sorry, my dear, I was not paying attention, you must repeat yourself.’

‘I said Ebert is being promoted to Sturmbannführer.’

‘He must be pleased.’

‘Yes, he is.’

She paused, I saw her bite her lip. This was going to be the hard part. ‘It will mean that he will be posted to Berlin.’

Her father seemed to shrink visibly. Clearly there was more coming, ‘And?’

‘He has asked me to marry him. He is coming tonight to ask for your permission.’

Not since the death of her mother, had I seen John look so grief stricken, as I saw him look then. And she saw it too.

‘Daddy, can't you just be happy for me? I love Ebi.’

‘I wish it was so simple, child,’ he stood up abruptly, ‘I cannot talk about this now, I will speak with you later.’

He turned away and strode from the room. Victoria looked at me as if for sympathy, but I was with her father on this. She jumped up, knocking her chair over and ran out of the room.

I was in the house all day. In the winter damp, the gunroom needed plenty of attention. And in any case no self-respecting poacher would be out in such weather.

Besides, that gunroom did get damp in the cold. Victoria attempted talking to her father several times during the day, but he was not willing to speak. She tried to distract herself, first with books and then with the gramophone but gave up in disgust. In the end she came into the gunroom and sat in the window. I suppose she didn't want to be entirely alone. But she would not talk to me when I tried to chat.

She also had a view of the road from there. Finally in the distance Gausel's little Opel appeared over the rise in the drive. It came on at a snail's pace. The Viper was a cautious driver and the slippery conditions made him drive very slowly.

Not like her. I hated being in a car she was driving, I dreaded she would end like her mother. As Gausel got near she jumped like a scalded cat and ran out of the room. A moment later I could see her crossing the forecourt. It was bitterly cold. The fountains were frozen solid, and the silly thing was out there without a coat. Maybe John was right, when he said love had addled her brains. One of the footmen followed her out with a coat, but she shook him off. She met the car at the far side of the courtyard. It stopped and she climbed in. It turned and disappeared around the corner of the building heading towards the coach house.

The rest of the afternoon it was like the storm had come in the house. But after dark, all of a sudden, it all changed. I suppose John felt he had to choose, between accepting his daughter with Gausel and losing her altogether.

Anyway, I was sitting in the kitchen eating my dinner, when I was called up to the small library that John used as a study. Victoria was standing looking towards the door, behind her were both John Chesterfield and Gausel. Both men held brandy glasses. As I entered Victoria stepped up to me, with tears in her eyes. She threw her arms around my neck and pulled my head down and kissed my cheek. John smiled at me, ‘Victoria wanted you to be the first to know...’

She interrupted, ‘Ebert and I are going to be married.’

John smiled reassuringly, but it seemed to me that smile was simply a cover for a spring of repressed grief. ‘Now my dear, I must give Major Gausel a tour. When your mother welcomed me into the family she introduced me to all your forbears. If we are welcoming a new son into the family, he too must understand the meaning of tradition.’

‘Oh Daddy, you have made me so happy.’

John seemed on the verge of weeping, ‘That is enough my dear, I need to save my tears for the wedding.’

The only concession John had gained was the insistence that the engagement should be at least twelve months. And that was that, the Viper had won.

Adalheid Mehler: May 1938

Ebert came back to Berlin in March '38. Over the next while he visited us almost every weekend. I remember he took the children out several times to places such as the zoo, parks and the lakes. The children loved their Uncle Ebert, and they were certainly very dear to him as well. Then, when the children were safe home in bed, he would sit chatting with August and myself late into the night.

We then met Katharina for the first time in April '38, which was the first occasion she visited Ebert in Berlin. Ebert had rambled continuously about her during his visits to us. He was very keen to have her meet us, while I was curious to meet the girl who had such a profound effect on my brother.

It was our maid Hetti who showed them into our sitting room. I remember well, Ebert's huge smile as he introduced us. I recalled from my glimpse of her at the ball and knew from the photographs I had been sent that she was beautiful, but Ebert was correct, the photographs did not do Katharina justice.

In the flesh she was a remarkable presence. Not only did she possess exceptional beauty, but she had an amazing appeal. She projected total self-assurance, a calm certainty of her own worth. I think most people came under her spell, perhaps especially men. My August certainly fell all over himself in an attempt to impress her, and Ebert was clearly bewitched. Superficially, she was absolutely charming, her smile was warm and friendly, yet I quickly formed reservations as to her character.

To be fair, there were things I did like about her, even at this early stage. She clearly liked my children, Johan and Frieda. She seemed completely comfortable with them. She also appeared to feel great affection for Ebert, whether it was more I cannot say.

But she was also very young.

When I met her she was just eighteen. I hate to say it, but in many ways, she behaved like a spoiled child. This no doubt stemmed from an absolute belief that anyone, or even everyone, would bend over backwards to grant her every wish. Katharina also appeared to believe she was above any norm of acceptable behavior, even above the law.

There was an example of this on that first visit to us. Katharina and Ebert arrived in a flashy white Mercedes sports car. I remember August was very impressed, calling it a ‘540’, or something like that. Katharina was laughing that she had wanted a car like that since she saw one at the Olympics in '36. She happily told us, how she had badgered her father continually since then, until he had consented to her buying one. Then came the truly shocking part. Ebert asked her when she had applied for her driving license.

She laughed she had not yet taken her test, she had driven all the way from Bavaria without a license! I asked her if she was not afraid of getting into trouble. She replied entirely without concern that she was already a good driver, and that she had plenty of money to pay fines at any rate. I tried to insist she was being terribly irresponsible, but she simply would not accept my point of view.

I expected Ebert to support me in pointing out how serious her behavior was; I was disappointed. He preferred to see it as a big joke. I am afraid to say he had entirely lost his sense of judgment when it came to her. At least August backed me up. He held that getting in trouble with the law was not something that any person should risk. Katharina simply ignored us, stating that she would get her license when she was ready.