Page 27 of The German Mother

‘Well found,’ said Peter, as the owner scurried off to fetch their order.

‘It helps to have connections everywhere, don’t you think?’ said Minki, lighting a cigarette.

‘So, where are you staying while you’re in Munich?’ Leila asked her, as they settled at the table.

‘Oh, a friend has lent me his flat. He’s gone to Paris for a month or so.’

‘That was lucky. Will you stay to cover the whole trial?’

‘I doubt it. Streicher, my editor, is not that keen on the ins and outs of politics. He adores Hitler, of course, so we’ll be putting a positive spin on things. I’ll stay for the opening statements, and hang around for some of the evidence – and the judgment, of course – but I can’t see myself sitting through those endless diatribes every day.’

‘Do you mean Julius Streicher – editor ofDer Stürmer?’ interjected Peter incredulously. ‘You’re working for him?’

Minki nodded.

‘You know that Streicher has been giving speeches in support of Hitler recently. Are you a fascist, like him?’

‘No, I’m totally apolitical,’ replied Minki casually.

‘What nonsense,’ he retorted. ‘No one is apolitical.’

Minki fixed Peter with her clear blue eyes. ‘Look, Peter…unlike you and Leila, who work for intellectual beacons of the liberal left, I’m just a hack.’

‘Oh, Minki,’ declared Leila. ‘You’re not a hack – you’re far better than that.’ She turned to Peter. ‘She was a brilliant editor of the university newspaper, you know.’

Peter looked doubtful.

‘It’s all right,’ said Minki quickly. ‘I’m sure you despise me, Peter, and I understand, I really do. I work atDer Stürmerbecause I have to earn a living – but I don’t have to like everything they print…and to be honest, most of it’s utter rubbish.’ She inhaled deeply on her cigarette and stubbed it out just as the bar’s owner returned with their order. ‘But as far as I’m concerned, this job is just the first rung on the ladder.’

‘We all have to make a living, but that doesn’t make it all right to work for someone like Streicher,’ said Peter quietly. ‘What he prints is pure invention most of the time, and what makes it worse is people believe it. He has too much influence.’

‘All newspaper editors have influence,’ Minki retorted. ‘I’m sure even your paper is capable of twisting the truth occasionally to fit its point of view. I’m not defending Streicher, but I’ll tell you this – he’s going to turn that little rag into a national sensation. Its circulation is small at the moment, but it’s rising. The working man loves it. He represents them, you see – the forgotten masses who have been ignored for too long by the government in Berlin. As for me, I have no idea how long I’ll stay there. As I said, it’s just a job.’ She picked up her schnapps. ‘Prost!’ she said, before downing it in one.

Back at the courtroom, they resumed their seats in the front of the gallery. Hitler was called to the stand and invited to make his opening statement.

‘This is the moment he’s been waiting for,’ whispered Peter to Leila, ‘the chance to speak to the world.’

Hitler’s speech began with a lengthy description of his early life – his artistic ambition, the devotion of his mother, his military service in the Great War – followed by an extensive elaboration on his vision for Germany and its people. His voice shook with emotion, as he raged against racial minorities and communists, declaring them ‘not even human’. The government in Berlin, he claimed, were responsible for the poverty gripping their country. It had ‘practically robbed the people of their last pennies…’ Finally, thumping his fist on the edge of the table in front of him, he thundered: ‘Policy is made not with the palm branch, but the sword.’ The spellbound onlookers, who until that point had been quelled into silence, gasped audibly. The journalists scribbled frantically, keen to record Hitler’s every word. His opening speech would be front-page news the following morning all over the world.

It was already dark when Minki, Leila and Peter emerged from the courtroom at the end of the day’s proceedings.

‘God, I need a drink,’ said Minki, lighting a cigarette.

‘I really ought to get back to the office,’ declared Leila. ‘Edmund will be waiting for my notes. He wants this on the front page tomorrow.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Peter.

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Minki. ‘I thought we could spend the evening together.’

‘Well, not tonight,’ said Leila. ‘Besides, don’t you have copy to file?’

‘Yes…I’ll call something through later. Streicher will only be interested in Hitler’s main points. I can sum them up pretty quickly.’

‘We’ll see you tomorrow then.’ Leila kissed Minki goodbye, took Peter by the arm, and the pair headed back to the office. At the corner of the road, she turned to wave at her friend. Minki looked wistful, and rather forlorn, standing alone in the empty road, the fur collar of her cream coat pulled up around her neck against the cold.

‘I hope Minki will be all right, Peter.’

‘I’m sure she will be fine. She’s as tough as old boots, isn’t she?’