the city. In the Heldenplatz the crowds were screaming and crying out, “We want to see our Führer,” “ Ein Volk , ein Reich , ein Führer! ” “ Juda verrecke! ” “Death to the Jews!” Everyone had put on their best clothes as if it was some sort of national holiday. The men were in green suits, lederhosen and white stockings – a ridiculous outfit at the best of times and this was not the best of times – or in Nazi uniform. Women in frocks or dirndls threw flowers at the soldiers marching past. You’ve no idea how terrifying it is to see rank after rank of soldiers goose-stepping through the streets of a city. The sound of marching boots on cobbles . . . I’ll never forget it as long as I live. And the noise of thousands of ordinary people shouting themselves hoarse over the coming of a tyrant – I kept thinking that soon this awful noise might be heard in Whitehall and Trafalgar Square.
‘Then there was Hitler himself in the brown uniform of a storm trooper. He was standing in an open car saluting and smiling. If I had had a gun, I would have shot him. Instead, they threw flowers and I saw at least one woman crying tears of joy. It was a kind of frenzy. I found it pathetic that the crowds which greeted Hitler along the Ringstrasse – delirious with joy – were old enough to know better. They were not young fanatics. I mean, they were there as well, of course, but for the most part the crowds were Viennese bourgeois – small shopkeepers – roused out of their normal stolidity. They seemed convinced that the Saviour had come to them in the form of a little man in a brown uniform dwarfed by the enormous military car in which he stood gesturing. Pathetic but sinister. Behind and in front of the Führer in thirteen police cars – I counted them – Gestapo SS in black uniforms with skull and crossbones on their caps scanned the crowds for enemies. And suddenly I realized how I must look, skulking around, not waving or screaming for my Führer. I saw some men in uniform scowl at me so I scurried back to the flat to type up my report.
‘The saddest thing, Edward . . . the irony of it all is that I’m convinced the Jews in Vienna would quite happily have joined in the welcome if they had not, for reasons they could not understand, been proclaimed enemies of the new German Reich. I’ll never forget what I saw. Never!’
Edward saw tears in her eyes but knew better than to say anything.
‘I heard later that Hitler had briefly appeared on the balcony of the Imperial Hotel and General Krauss had thanked him for uniting the German nation. I suppose I ought to have been there but I was too frightened. On Tuesday, when things had quietened down a bit and Hitler had rushed back to Munich, I went to see what had changed. The city was eerily quiet. The Simpl. . .’
‘The Simpl?’
‘The Simplicissimus – Vienna’s most famous cabaret. It’s run by two Jews, Karl Farkas and Fritz Grünbaum. Grünbaum was a refugee from Hitler’s Berlin and one of Vienna’s favourite comedians. You know who I mean?’ she said, seeing he did not recognize the name. ‘He’s appeared in countless UFA films. Anyway, the cabaret is – or was – the gathering place for all the enemies of Fascism – not just Jews but Communists as well. I went several times. My German – or rather my Austrian – isn’t good enough for me to understand all the jokes but it was the one place in Vienna I felt at home. The Communists were the only people actively to oppose the Nazis but there weren’t enough of them.
‘I thought that if there were any friends left in Vienna they would meet at the Simpl but when I got there it was boarded up and deserted. At last, I found an old man – a caretaker or something – and I asked to speak to Herr Grünbaum. He told me that he had been taken away to prison. He did not know what had happened to Farkas.
‘I trailed round the bars and cafés – starting with the Reiss-Bar, a chic place off
‘Then there was Hitler himself in the brown uniform of a storm trooper. He was standing in an open car saluting and smiling. If I had had a gun, I would have shot him. Instead, they threw flowers and I saw at least one woman crying tears of joy. It was a kind of frenzy. I found it pathetic that the crowds which greeted Hitler along the Ringstrasse – delirious with joy – were old enough to know better. They were not young fanatics. I mean, they were there as well, of course, but for the most part the crowds were Viennese bourgeois – small shopkeepers – roused out of their normal stolidity. They seemed convinced that the Saviour had come to them in the form of a little man in a brown uniform dwarfed by the enormous military car in which he stood gesturing. Pathetic but sinister. Behind and in front of the Führer in thirteen police cars – I counted them – Gestapo SS in black uniforms with skull and crossbones on their caps scanned the crowds for enemies. And suddenly I realized how I must look, skulking around, not waving or screaming for my Führer. I saw some men in uniform scowl at me so I scurried back to the flat to type up my report.
‘The saddest thing, Edward . . . the irony of it all is that I’m convinced the Jews in Vienna would quite happily have joined in the welcome if they had not, for reasons they could not understand, been proclaimed enemies of the new German Reich. I’ll never forget what I saw. Never!’
Edward saw tears in her eyes but knew better than to say anything.
‘I heard later that Hitler had briefly appeared on the balcony of the Imperial Hotel and General Krauss had thanked him for uniting the German nation. I suppose I ought to have been there but I was too frightened. On Tuesday, when things had quietened down a bit and Hitler had rushed back to Munich, I went to see what had changed. The city was eerily quiet. The Simpl. . .’
‘The Simpl?’
‘The Simplicissimus – Vienna’s most famous cabaret. It’s run by two Jews, Karl Farkas and Fritz Grünbaum. Grünbaum was a refugee from Hitler’s Berlin and one of Vienna’s favourite comedians. You know who I mean?’ she said, seeing he did not recognize the name. ‘He’s appeared in countless UFA films. Anyway, the cabaret is – or was – the gathering place for all the enemies of Fascism – not just Jews but Communists as well. I went several times. My German – or rather my Austrian – isn’t good enough for me to understand all the jokes but it was the one place in Vienna I felt at home. The Communists were the only people actively to oppose the Nazis but there weren’t enough of them.
‘I thought that if there were any friends left in Vienna they would meet at the Simpl but when I got there it was boarded up and deserted. At last, I found an old man – a caretaker or something – and I asked to speak to Herr Grünbaum. He told me that he had been taken away to prison. He did not know what had happened to Farkas.
‘I trailed round the bars and cafés – starting with the Reiss-Bar, a chic place off
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