Günsche shook his head.
“One moment, Herr General, I will ask.”
A moment later, Günsche waved von Wachtstein through the door to Hitler’s living quarters.
Hitler was sitting on a Louis XIV couch, holding a Meissen teacup in his hands.
Von Wachtstein gave the Nazi salute as SS-Obersturmführer Otto Günsche stepped to a corner.
“Good morning, my Führer,” von Wachtstein said.
Hitler returned the salute with a casual wave of the hand.
“Günsche said it was important.”
“My Führer, I regret to inform you that Peenemunde suffered severe damage yesterday afternoon.”
“So I have heard.”
“And a great many of our fighters were shot down yesterday near Berlin.”
“How many is ‘a great many,’ von Wachtstein?”
“Approximately one hundred, my Führer.”
“How did that happen?”
“They were mistaken for American fighters, my Führer.”
“Who made that mistake?”
“General Jeschonnek ordered the attack, my Führer.”
“Günsche, get General Jeschonnek in here.”
“My Führer, General Jeschonnek took his own life just after midnight,” von Wachtstein said. “By pistol shot.”
Hitler looked at him.
“I presume Reichsmarschall Göring has been informed?”
“Yes, my Führer,” von Wachtstein said.
“And where is the reichsmarschall?”
“In Budapest, my Führer,” von Wachtstein said. “He is experiencing some technical difficulty with his aircraft. He expects to be able to get here sometime after three this afternoon.”
“How is it that the reichsmarschall learned of this before I have?”
“My Führer, Generalfeldmarschall Keitel has directed me to contact the reichsmarschall, inform him of General Jeschonnek’s death, and to relay the generalfeldmarschall’s suggestion that Reichsmarschall Göring come here as soon as possible.”
“I see,” Hitler said. “Oh, how well I see.”
And here is where I get to feel the wrath.
“Is there anything else you have to tell me, General von Wachtstein?”
“No, my Führer.”