The two cakes with Adolf Hitler portraits: In 1922 married Hermann Esser , a party member of the first hour. Adolf Hitler had promised his shareholder at the small wedding party, but he did not want to speak: “I need crowds when I speak,” he explained. “In a small circle I just do not find the right words, everyone would be disappointed, and I want to save them, I can not speak at family parties at all, and do not keep burial.” An Esser-friendly confectioner, who was very fond of Hitler, donated a cake of almost half a meter in diameter for the wedding, adorned in the middle with a portrait of the party leader: it had more or less succeeded, mainly chocolate., mustache and the lock of hair on the forehead were clearly visible. Hitler could barely hide his surprise about the baker’s invasion: but the wedding guests also became more and more embarrassed: who would be the first to violate the face of the Führer? Hitler was usually very good socially, sometimes bad too. He did not thaw at all at Esser’s marriage. With more painful accuracy, the women in attendance worked hard to get rid of a piece of biscuit from the relatively broad cake edge, while leaving the “masterpiece” of the Hitler portrait untouched.
That worked. It was not until evening, when the host family was alone, that the children had a great pleasure in consuming Hitler’s face. Twenty-three years later General Dwight Eisenhower invited his staff for a small victory party, for which occasion he also had a cake with Hitler portrait served. Of course, the officers did not feel inhibited at all to devour the sugar-sweet face of the vanquished enemy. The good taste did not really invent America?
Hermann Esser here with Hitler at the Teehaus overlook, October, 1936. Esser was a notorious ladies man and Hitler basically forced him to marry in 1939 because he had gotten a woman pregnant. Esser died in Dietramszell, Bavaria aged 80 on 7 February 1981.
Henriëtte and the holocaust: Henriëtte von Schirach was certainly not the most fanatical Nazi among the prominent wives of the Third Reich, and she was the only one among them who had a direct confrontation with Hitler for the sake of the Jews, albeit a confrontation of modest proportions. She belonged to the few people who could afford such things, according to Hitler’s favorite architect Albert Speer . Most people would then immediately lose their position and collapse into nothing. She was one of the most trusted friends of the Führer and Eva Braun . She had known him since her childhood when Hitler worked with her father, the photographer Heinrich Hoffmann, and she had already impressed a few things, on which one would expect a sharp reaction from Hitler: such a reaction, however, always remained. This time she chose a very preciar theme.There are as many versions of the small incident at the Berghof as there are numbers that retell the incident, but they do not differ on important points. We will present the words here, in which Henriette summarizes the events themselves.
The incident followed a visit that Henriëtte von Schirach, married to the Hitler Youth leader Baldur von Schirach, had made with friends in the Netherlands. She had gone to Amsterdam, where she stayed at the Amstelhotel, while walking through the streets and along the canals during the day. “I did not suspect that behind a closet door at the top of an Amsterdam house, a small, persecuted Anne Frank wrote her silent accusations in a diary, and one night I woke up crying, howling, screaming, walked to the window and tried to understand. What was happening there in the darkness I could see what was happening, there were women in hastily packed bundles, a few hundred women hurried in haste: their howling was interrupted by a clear voice, a commanding voice. “Aryans stay here.” Hesitantly the row of women crossed the bridge and disappeared with a terrible lament in the dark The next morning no one wanted to give me a definite answer, the doorman or the night waiter, but my friends knew it.Deportation of Jews, they said, do not you know that?The next day, Henriëtte was shown a mountain of wedding rings and gems by an SS officer, from which she could make a choice at very low prices. She suspected the origin of the jewels, and left in a shocked way where the SS officer had taken her.
According to Henriette’s, by the way, National Socialist, friends, it was very unlikely that Hitler knew what was happening to the Jews here, and she solemnly promised them that she would immediately inform the Fuehrer. As soon as possible she traveled to the Obersalzberg, where she found Hitler in the midst of many other visitors. She watched the coming confrontation. It is the evening of Good Friday, 1943, and I must keep my promise. I allowed the friendly servant Max Wünsche to bring a double cognac – so the overconfidence can be explained with which I approached Hitler. But he started himself. “You are from Nederland?” “Yes, and that is why I am here.” – and now I toed him, so, as I described it here, what I had experienced, what my own eyes had seen … First he was bawdy, he said nothing at all. Also the seventeen manner (I counted them all) did not say a word, and no one looked at me. Then he turned his face into my ration. Only now did I notice how decayed it was. Despite the concentrated vitamin food his skin looked old and his eyes were extinguished- the demons devoured at him, I thought, although this occurred a bit silly myself.
He looked at me with eyes, from which the pupils seemed to be gone, only a dead blue stared at me, but maybe I’m wrong, too, and it was a big pupil that stared at me. I felt sorry for him, and at the same time I hated him. Slowly he got up. And I also quit, now he had mastered himself again, and he yelled at me: “You are sentimental! What are you doing to the Jews in the Netherlands!” I had heard Hitler yell here, at that time, during a military discussion that was taking place before dinner, then he screamed so loudly that the noise was coming through the doors and we were stiffening. Shouting was his weapon. And now I got to hear the full power of his voice. “These are all sentimentality! Humanistic Silence!” I turned around, let him scream, and walked down the stairs …. I did not look around and I knew that I would never see him again.