Muddled recall:
I was a female Allied Agent, working in Nazi Germany. Hitler shot himself at a kind of mountain camping retreat. The setting was dark, there was a two story wooden bunkhouse structure -- the wood was dark, with some dingy whitewash between rough timbers.
Hitler's office was about eight by eight. I'd heard a gun fire, and I slowly crept up stairs and looked into his office window. Through dream logic, he'd been dead long enough for his face and hands to turn dull blue (sort of a coper patina color). "Yep," I thought. "He's dead alright."
I went downstairs, in my double-agent role as a German beurocrat, to inform the next-in-command (whom I'm thinking in waking life looked a little like General Hoffsteader from Hogan's Heros).
There's a gap... The office and military staff at the German Mountain Campground went for a dip in the local pool. They didn't bother to take off their clothes or put on swim suits, they slogged right in.
It was a moonless night. I think the pool was also an airfield because I have a sense of aircraft floating in the dark water. Every now and then, methane bubbled up, and in a case of dream-wishing, I hoped that it would catch on fire and it did. The smale flame hovering over the water was dim and blue.
1 comment:
I watched too much Hogan's Heroes as a child, obviously, because I thought, "Wasn't it Hochstetter?" Indeed according to Wikipedia, it was Major Hochstetter (the angry stereotypical Nazi), and General Burkhalter (who seemed to be guided more by the principle of gemutlichkeit). Also interesting, both were played by Jews.
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