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275 pages, Hardcover
First published January 11, 2018
Fear comes to me three times a day, always without knocking. It sits beside me and if I stand up it follows me, by now it’s practically a constant companion.World War II. Death could arrive at any moment, particularly when your city is being targeted by enemy bombers. In a way, a sudden violent end becomes the expectation. One to be avoided if at all possible, of course. Rosa Sauer flees the Allied bombing of Berlin in Autumn 1943. Though married, her husband had joined the army. She goes to stay with her in-laws in the town of East Partsch, in East Prussia. But, in a classic case of out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire, she finds herself in a situation every bit as perilous as the threat she had fled. Soon after her arrival, members of the SS arrive at her in-laws� house and inform Rosa that she has been selected to serve her country in a most unusual manner. It seems the Fuehrer’s base of operations (Wolfsschanze, aka , now Parcz, Poland) is only a few miles away, and, among his other psychiatric challenges, he is terrified that his food might be poisoned. (Well, maybe not so crazy about fearing assassination) She will be one of fifteen young women drafted to become Hitler’s food tasters. The upside, of course, is that she will be eating much better than most Germans. The downside is well…you know.
Why, for some time now, had I found myself in places I didn’t want to be in and acquiesced and didn’t rebel and continued to survive whenever someone was taken from me? The ability to adapt is human beings� greatest resource, but the more I adapted, the less human I felt.She must cope with the probable loss of her husband, reported MIA. Is he gone? Should she hold out hope or accede to the likelihood of his demise? When push comes to shoot will you find yourself on the flat or pointed end of the bullet? Will you be able to decide for yourself or will you leave it to others to decide for you?
I could have known about the mass graves, about the Jews who lay prone, huddled together, waiting for the shot to the back of the head, could have known about the earth shoveled onto their backs, and the wood ash and calcium hypochlorite so they wouldn’t stink, about the new layer of Jews who would lie down on the corpses and offer the backs of their heads in turn. I could have known about the children picked up by the hair and shot, about the kilometer-long lines of Jews or Russians�They’re Asian, they’re not like us--ready to fall into the graves or climb onto trucks to be gassed with carbon monoxide. I could have learned about it before the end of the war. I could have asked. I but I was afraid and couldn’t speak and didn’t want to know.Pastorino offers up some darkly comical tidbits about the not-so-fearless leader, including reference to his considerable problem with flatulence, (I can only imagine what Mel Brooks would have done with that) being afraid to go to sleep, after visiting a slaughterhouse, keeping his aides up all night regaling them with stories, the late nights rich with Hitler humiliating his staff at length, which sounds uncomfortably familiar. They appeared to enjoy being the focus of his dark attention, like sycophants today. We learn that Eva Braun hated Blondi, the singing German Shepherd that Adolph doted on. And for all you white nationalists out there, you will also learn the proper way to deliver a Nazi salute.