An SS Corporal came out of the Bunker entrance and hurried toward him. He gave the Nazi salute. “Herr Reichsleiter, the Führer is asking for you.”

“Where is he?”

“In his study.”

“Good, I’ll come at once.” As they walked toward the entrance several shells landed on the far side of the Chancellery again, debris lifting into the air. Bormann said, “Tanks?”

“I’m afraid so, Herr Reichsleiter, less than half a mile away now.”

The SS Corporal was young and tough, a seasoned veteran. Bormann clapped him on the shoulder. “You know what they say? Everything comes to he who waits.”

He started to laugh, and the young corporal laughed with him as they started down the concrete steps.

When Bormann knocked on the study door and went in the Führer was seated behind the desk, examining some maps with a magnifying glass. He glanced up.

“Ah, Bormann, there you are. Come in. We don’t have much time.”

“I suppose not, my Führer,” Bormann said uncertainly, unsure of what was meant.

“They’ll be here soon, Bormann, the damned Russians, but they won’t find me waiting. Stalin would like nothing better than to exhibit me in a cage.”

“That can never be, my Führer.”

“Of course not. I shall commit suicide, and my wife will accompany me on that dark journey.”

He was referring to his mistress, Eva Braun, whom he had finally married at midnight on the twenty-eighth.

“I had hoped that even now you would reconsider whether or not to make a break for Bavaria,” Bormann told him, but more for something to say than anything else.

“No, my mind is made up, but you, my old friend, you have work to do.”