Berghof und Fräulein Anneliese

For the first time in his dreams, Alistair Bowmore found himself at Hitler's Berghof. It was very pretty inside, and very traditionally German. Everything from the wooden walls to the tablecloth and the snowflake patterened coasters for hot pans. The glasses and cups to drink in where equally Germanic, intricate yet also symmetrical and efficient. There were pretty lights, but nothing too extravagant. The view was perhaps the most breathtaking thing about the whole house; it was a view one would never tire of, overlooking the beautiful bavarian country. This view alone was surely worth millions in Alistair Bowmore's time. And so, Alistair felt like he was at a wealthy, but not rich man's home. 

Adolf of Obersalzberg was a fun and lighthearted man. Alistair had already know him to crack jokes and smile, but at his holiday residence he showed a new dimension to his character; he didn't shy from playing pranks or laughing. The only room that Alistair only saw once was Adolf's bedroom. At night, he was sure it was locked, but once he could have sworn he saw a smallish figure slip out of it, either a ghost or Eva Braun.

After having been given a tour of the house Hitler and Bowmore sat down for dinner. They were joined by one of Hitler's close friends, someone he'd met during a train ride a long time ago. Bowmore couldn't remember ever having seen the man before; and reconned that he wasn't one of Hitler's cronies and had never gone down in History. 

"Kurt Kettler, heiss ich, und ich braue Schnaps! (Kurt Kettler is my name, and I make Schnaps)" He'd introduced himself, shaking Alistair's hand with a monsters grip. He was an aimable man, someone that men and women alike loved to be around. If he was romantically affiliated with someone Bowmore never found out, but he was constantly surrounded by women. And it was through him that Alistair Bowmore met Anneliese. 

The dinner consisted of many vegetables, all cooked together into a large stew, and mashed potatoes. Bowmore wasn't surprised; he'd heard that Hitler had had stomach issues and, due to this, often ate vegetarian dishes. Alistair sat across from Anneliese, and Adolf sat across the table from Kurt. Considering himself privilaged to be at the Berghof, Alistair even dared to ask where Eva was, and Hitler, good-mooded, replied that she was coming tomorrow and might even be here early enough to join them for a late breakfast. 

Alistair couldn't stop himself from shooting several glances at Anneliese. She was obviously very intelligent and comftorable around Adolf and Kurt, and also very beautiful. A friend of Eva's, Kurt had introduced her as, and a very good writer. Alistair had been aware that Stalin often dined with pretty women and friends, but he hadn't known that Hitler did this as well, perhaps the German dictator had done a better job at hiding his personal life. 

They didn't talk politics at the table; at least not German politics. But they liked to drop a comment on Stalin and the CCCP once in a while. "When I was coming here by train I sat next to a Russian gentleman," Anneliese said with a sparkle in her eyes, "he was very friendly with me, always trying to shut the door to our cabinet and telling me that maybe I should take my coat off due to the 'heat'. I tilted the window open and told him that maybe he should put that scarf he was fondling back on." Kurt laughed the loudest. "When we neared the end of the destinations he asked me where I was headed. I told him to 'Berghof' I think he took it as a joke, but he still got out at the next stop." She seemed delighted at having scared the Russian. The end of the story made Adolf chuckle. Alistair had been wondering what could be the 'hook' of such a beautiful girl and there he had it; she was sadistic and possibly capricious; a nazi for sure. 

It was first after this comment that he realized how she must inbody the perfect German lass. She had big blue eyes that looked more like jewels than actual organs, blonde curls that fell over her shoulders and hung to right over the start of her supple breast. When she laughed it sounded sweet and childish, and it was the kind of laugh that could warm a soldiers heart even though he was far from home.

Anneliese left the dinner table for a quick smoke and asked Alistair to join her which surprised him mightily. He agreed and soon found himself walking behind the girl to the balcony. They stepped outside and closed the door to prevent smoke from sneaking into the house. 

"I heard you're American?" She asked, opening her eyes so widely that Alistair almost feared they'd pop out of her head. 

"Yes, I am." He answered, unsure of how much detail she was asking for. 

"Do you want a cigarette?" She offered him one, and he accepted. It wasn't everyday that he found themselves on the balcony of Hitler's Berghof. She lit his first and then hers, courtasy of a smoker. "And what do you do professionally, instead of not getting on Adolfs nerves." She said this teasingly, but it made him realize that she wasn't blind to her friends dictatorial side. 

"I'm a translator. I sometimes translate things for some of the politicians, that's how I met Adolf." 

"So you also love words?" 

"Definitely. They have my heart and sould." He responded. After this he realized what he's subconciously been doing the whole dinner through; he was trying to charm her. 

"Would you read something that I wrote?" She asked. Her straightforwardness made him realize yet another thing; she must be troubled. Most people who say and offer so much of themselves but at the same time reserve certain things are usually either lachrymose or mentally unstable. By the lines of her face, he guessed both. Although she was very pretty, he could tell by the crease of her brow that she'd been though much worry. "See, it takes place in the United States and I want to know if it's believable at all."

"Of course I will. You've never been, I assume?"

"No." And her answer held the first and only sad note he'd heard come out of the cherry woman that night. She turned to look at him, leaning against the railing, cigarette trailing a line of smoke in the sky between them. "Would you take me to America?"

"Yes, I would. The cigarettes there taste much better." His remark made her laugh, to which he had to smile. Perhaps they would get along well, even if she was a piece of work.