Kempka was a skilled driver and, for the majority of the journey, maintained a steady speed. He kept to B roads, most of which were badly bomb damaged and deserted. Nevertheless, as they reached the outskirts of Kiel he knew he had no choice but to switch to the main road, as it was the only way to gain entry to the port. It involved a precarious end to the journey and for a few minutes all was well but, as they entered the city suburbs, he spotted an impromptu roadblock a few hundred yards ahead. Two Russian soldiers were positioned in the middle of the road, standing in front of an armoured half-track vehicle that was parked sideways on, forming a temporary barricade. They had spotted the approaching car a few seconds earlier and their PPD-34 submachine guns were raised and pointed directly at it. A third soldier was sleeping on a makeshift bed of fallen logs by the side of the road. His gun lay a few feet away, resting by an empty bottle of Stolichnaya vodka.

Kempka immediately began to slow the Mercedes 770K and turned to Bormann, who was sitting alongside him in the front passenger seat. It was the first time he’d spoken on the journey. “Obergruppenführer, what are your instructions?”

Bormann reached inside his overcoat and retrieved his 6.5 calibre Mauser pistol. “Erich, drive slowly up to the guards and keep your best fake smile on show. Try and park alongside them.”

Bormann glanced over his left shoulder to make eye contact with Hitler, who nodded to acknowledge that he had heard the conversation and was aware of the imminent threat. As the car drew to a halt, Bormann and Kempka maintained their beaming smiles while the wary guards approached the front passenger door. The senior guard lowered his machine gun and barked instructions to the inhabitants of the car in Russian.

“Get out! Get out of the car.”

Bormann continued smiling and nodded his head repeatedly as he began slowly winding down the car window with his right hand. Without pausing, he raised his left hand and fired in one simultaneous movement. The round entered the guard’s neck just above his Adam’s apple and, as he slumped to the ground, Bormann fired another shot that struck the second guard directly between the eyes, creating a mini crater in the centre of his forehead. The gunshots had woken the sleeping soldier, who instinctively leapt across the logs in pursuit of his machine gun. As he reached it, two more shots rang out and he spun backwards as the rounds ripped open his chest. He rolled sideways into a shallow ditch and came to rest on his back. Blood seeped through his uniform as he struggled to breathe. The shadow of his attacker loomed over him.