00011100.gif Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941 [entire page unreadable] 00011101.gif page 2 Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941 [entire page unreadable] 00011102.gif page 3 Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941 [entire page unreadable] 00011103.gif page 4 Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941 On the pretext of showing her (Renate Mueller) the other rooms of the spacious Chancellery, Hitler asked her to leave the crowded drawing rooms with him. The two came to his private living room, and Hitler sat down next to Mueller. She did not feel her heart fluttering in his presence. She did nothing. She just listened to him as he talked and talked. [Unreadable] quite ordinary things concerning which neither she nor he could possibly have any interest. But isn't that exactly the method of a bashful lover? Renate sat next to him and he talked on and on. Suddenly he ran out of something to say. There was an awkward paused. He eased himself over a little closer to her. She could feel his nearness. She did not feel her heart fluttering. He, perhaps? At any rate, he suddenly got up - no jumped up from the couch, raised his arm in the stiff Nazi salute, the salute he invented, and said: "What do you think, how long can I hold my arm up like this?" Renate shook her head. She did not know what to answer the Fuehrer. But it did not matter because Hitler told her the answer: "I can hold my arm like this for hours without getting tired. It is not true that I have an apparatus built in my arm sleeve to support my arm, That's all nonsense, my dear, all twaddle. I can stand this way for hours. And then I think about fat old Goering, I always remember that he gets tired after a couple of minutes. Miss Mueller looked at Hitler standing before her with his arm stretched out in stiff salute. "That is really wonderful, mein Fuehrer," she said. Hitler smiled like a man who had received too much applause. He lowered his arm, approached her once more, looked deeply into her eyes, and said: "Come, my dear. Let us get back to the guests again." Another actress told me: "I was this man's guest for eight days. It was fascinating, he was fascinating. Other men look at my mouth, but Hitler only looked into my eyes, and when I told him that I was a divorcee, the man nearly jumped to the ceiling with joy." This is true, no matter how untrue it may sound. His appearance in the doorway (of the Green Ship) was enough to freeze the good humour of all the guests to below zero. Hitler was the well-known "horror guest" in the Schwabing artist' bars; when he appeared, all the others disappeared. They did everything possible to protect themselves from him, but not because they feared him. On the contrary, Hitler was lean, shabbily dressed and practically penniless, but he had one passion which never left him - he talked. He talked without interruption, mainly about art. No wonder that the flight from his table would begin when he came, and whispers of horror could be heard above the clink of beer mugs: "Jesus, here comes Hitler!" Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. pp. 27.272.273. 00011104.gif page 5 Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941 He likes the artists, although he is not liked by them. But he indescribably hates intellectuals - who have much in common with artists for reasons which once more arise in the dim realm of the psychological. Before a large group of guests, he once declared bitterly that of all the people in Germany he hated only one class - the intellectuals. "These impudent rascals," Hitler snarled. "who always know everything better than anybody else, these rascals who grin scornfully at every one of the Party's failures and say, 'We already knew that was going to happen!' These rascals who only possess their intellect in order to play with. Those rascals - I would like to exterminate them like rats, even if it means killing ten, twenty or thirty thousand of them. I would like to kick them out tomorrow!" Hitler, unclenched his fists and said in a quieter voice, "But unfortunately, we need them." From that time he also has his troubles with the docile German press. A cultured gentleman write a feature article concerning a visit to the headquarters of a German general [unreadable]. Censored three times... this article finally found its [unreadable] German press. Adolf Hitler who otherwise reads very little, sometimes with the clever [rest of paragraph unreadable]. There was a terrible thunderstorm over the publication of the article. Without it had been well liked and approved by the proper officers and Propaganda Ministry officials. For several long minutes, Hitler expressed his rage in the presence of his adjutants in unintelligible screams. When he managed to get himself somewhat calmer, he shouted as his unfortunate companions: "This miserable writer. What is this skunk thinking of when he attempts to glorify the generals? Why does he see fit to even mention their names? "Who won the campaign in Poland? he shouted. "I did!" "Who gave the orders?" "I did!" "Who had all the strategic ideas which made victory possible?" "I did!" "Who ordered the attack?" "Ich! Ich! Ich! Ich!" "Then this liar comes along and tries to assert that the generals had something to say about the campaign. He is instinctless, and stupid." Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. pp. 274.275.276. 00011105.gif page 6 Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941 An eye witness at the event told me the following story: The German battleship Deutschland... was bombed... At the ... public funeral... Hitler should speak... At the beginning of the ceremony, a German admiral spoke, Hitler followed him and spoke to the assemblage ( and [unreadable] passionately. [Entire paragraph unreadable] Perhaps he spoke too well. Perhaps the visible pain and suffering of the surviving relatives lined up before him was too much. In any case, the first widow with whom Hitler spoke a few words cried violently. Her child, who was ten years old, and who stood next to his bereaved mother, began to cry heartrendingly. Hitler patted him on the head and turn uncertainly to the next in line. Before he could say a word, he was suddenly overcome. He spun completely around, left the whole carefully planned program [rest of paragraph unreadable]/ Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. pp. 276.277 It is well-known that he saw the Merry Widow performed seven time in one winter season-an old dusty operetta which had its premiere thirty years ago. As I have already noted, he sees every change of program at the Berlin Winter Garden. In dancing Hitler has decided likes and dislikes. For expressionist dances like those of Mary Wigman or [unreadable] he has a deadly hatred. [unreadable]. Hitler likes dances done only with the legs, a style in which American tap dancers excel. If you consider his taste, you will not wonder that Hitler saw a young American dancer perform in this fashion for times; you will not wonder that he ordered her competitor, Marion Daniels, to come to Munich from Marseille by special train. You will not wonder that of all the comedians who broadcast in Germany, he likes best the bold Manfred Lommel who, although he was formerly an army officer, relates the most stupid nonsense imaginable. Yes, Hitler responds most favorably to the light muses in his private entertainments. This man has neverseen [sic] one of Shakespeare's plays. he probably never read a line of Goethe. His most exalted artistic activity is listening to Wagner. Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. pp. 277.278 00011106.gif page 7 Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. More than once he has procured Charlie Chaplin films through representatives in foreign countries and has amused himself highly over them. Hitler decides whether Hitler may see non-Aryan movies or not. It is known that Hitler once saw Pancho Villa, an excellent American movie starring Wallace Beery, twice in a row. The film was rough and coarse, but filled with manly vitality. Afterward, Hitler said to his attendants: "I found this film excellent, but far too good for the German masses." Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. p. 279 Since Hitler really has an exceptional memory, he spends hours learning by heart the tonnages of the various ships in the British navy; he knows exactly what kind of armament, the kind of armor plates, the weight, the speed, and the number of the crew of every warship in the British navy. He knows the number of rotations of airplane motors in every model and type existent. He knows the number of shots a machine gun fires a minute, whether it is a light, medium, or heavy one, whether it was made in the United States, Czechoslovakia or France. Even in wartime, his chief activity is the study of details and figures. He sits alone in his fabulous office for long, long hours - often the whole night through. An expensive magnifying glass lies on his desk, a complicated built-in electric lighting system spreads an even glow over the desk (Hitler has failing eyesight, and mustwear [sic] glasses in order to read); on the surface of his desk are laid enormously enlarged aerial photographs which German air force pilots have brought back from their reconnaissance flights over enemy territory. Hitler studies their every detail over and over. He knows from what height the pictures have been made. He knows exactly the difference between the camouflaged trenches and the easily recognizable military establishments. He knows exactly how the harbor and the port of Scapa Flow look. He knows the entrances by heart. He knows exactly where in these enemy ports the docks of neutral countries lie. Only now and then he summons as specialist, who gives him even more details on any subject. Even when he has been studying maps and photographs in this ways for hours, he never gets tired. Russell, William: Berlin Embassy. 1941. pp. 283.284.
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