Back The Man in the Bunker Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Chapter 41
  44. Chapter 42
  45. Chapter 43
  46. Chapter 44
  47. Chapter 45
  48. Chapter 46
  49. Chapter 47
  50. Chapter 48
  51. Chapter 49
  52. Chapter 50
  53. Chapter 51
  54. What Happened to the Witnesses?
  55. Acknowledgements
  56. About the Author
  57. Rory Clements Readers’ Club
  58. Letter from Author

‘He was a travel writer, a man who went to many countries and counted many great men among his acquaintances and friends. He’s dead now. Five months ago, as the Allies closed in, he and his wife dug graves for themselves, then killed themselves with poison and bullets. They had been living in a little wooden house on our land near Walchensee and they are interred nearby in the woods. He wanted no stone, no memorial. His books sold in millions, but I predict that the Allies will not allow him to be remembered, for he believed wholeheartedly in the National Socialist cause.’

Wilde looked at his watch ostentatiously.

‘Forgive me, Professor, am I boring you? You asked how I met Julius. That would have been 1936. Colin Ross hosted a dinner party and Julius and I both happened to be invited. We hit it off and were great friends ever since. I rather think Colin was trying to get us together, as though we had a similar world view. Certainly I took to Julius immediately, as did my wife, Henriette.’

‘Where is Boden now?’

‘I told you. I don’t know if Julius is even alive.’

‘And his wife?’

‘He has never married.’

‘What about his parents? Where are they?’

‘I heard that his father had died, but I imagine that Ilse Boden is still living in the family home in Schwarzenkirche. Go and talk to her. She should know her son’s fate.’

‘Does the house have a name or number?’

Schirach laughed. ‘It is called the Bauernhof Edelweiss. A rather quaint name for such a grand farming enterprise. It is not difficult to find. There are not more than forty or fifty houses in Schwarzenkirche and everyone there pays homage to the Boden family. In England you would call them liege lords.’

‘I believe Julius Boden was also seen as a bit of a war hero.’

‘Indeed. The greatest of war heroes and much decorated. Iron Cross First Class, Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves and I don’t know what else.’

‘And he was SS?’

‘Jah, he was.’

‘They were the cruellest of the cruel. Real savages. War criminals to a man. How come an urbane fellow such as yourself counted him as a friend.’

‘Julius was a soldier, but I do not believe he was a savage. I cannot believe it.’

‘I bet they all say that now.’

‘But in the case of Julius it is true. He is – or was – a man of great honour and courage. He believed in the military code, as did I. It was something we tried to inculcate in our Hitler Youth.’

‘One more thing. Where is Hitler?’

‘A question I have been asked many times. I was not in the bunker, but I have been told that he is dead and I have no reason to disbelieve the reports.’

‘If your friend Boden had rescued him from the bunker, where would he have taken him to hide?’