ADOLF.

April 30, 1945.  Reich Chancellery, Berlin, Germany.

The sound of the gunshot reverberated in the ante-chamber of the Führerbunker. Adolf lunged forward, collapsing in my arms. Blood oozed freely from his right temple, his 7.6mm Walther pistol falling from his hand to the floor. He took one last breath and it was over.

The Führer and the leader of the Third Reich was gone. All was lost.

I laid him on the sofa and bent down to kiss the bloodied forehead of the man who had been my husband for forty hours and my partner for sixteen years. It was not goodbye. Not yet.

I reached for the grey can containing the cyanide capsules. The lid bore an embossed 'swastika' sign, Adolf's insignia. He came up with the design personally and it soon became the symbol of the 'New Germany' he propagated and later ruled. We first met one bright autumn evening in October,1929. I was seventeen and restless, fresh out of convent and trying to pursue a career in photography in Munich. My boss, Heinrich Hoffman, in whose photoshop I worked introduced us. They were returning from a politcal rally, massively attended.

"Eva, meet Herr Wolff," Hoffman said, beaming with smiles.

Adolf was smiling as I took his hand. His grip was firm. His gaze, tender. I quickly looked away.

"Go over to the restaurant across the street and get us some beer and sausages. Hitler just spoke to 16,000 people and is very hungry."

I pulled away and ran off to the errand, my heart pounding. I could not explain the sudden longing I felt for this man.

After they had finished eating, I hung around listening to Adolf discuss politics with Hoffman. There was something stirring in his voice. Something that made me want to belong to him.

"I will give you a ride home," Adolf said, rising.

I opened my mouth and closed it without a word. His Mercedes was parked outside the shop and during the silent ride home, all I could think of was him.

I saw him more frequently afterwards. My boss have been made his personal photographer and I was on hand to take his photos which were in high demand for the Nazi propaganda machinery. Somewhere in the crowd, camera in hand and soaking up the mounting euphoria his speeches elicited, I took shots of the man who was fast becoming the most important man in Germany. Screams of 'Seig Heil' greeted his speeches, his gesticulations and powerful words drawing wild applause from the crowd. He stirred our national pride and made us believe we were unconquerable. The more I listened, the clearer it became to me that I belonged to him body and soul. But he acted distant.

The reason soon became apparent. I was sent by my boss to his Munich apartment, the second floor of Prinzregentenplatz 16, to show him some pictures. A pretty blonde, roughly my age or slightly older, answered the door.

"I...came...to see Herr Hitler," I said, stuttering.

"Oh," she said, sizing me up. "Come on in."

I admired the framed oil paintings in the passage. We passed a majolica pot containing a cactus plant and I could hear Adolf's voice coming from the living room.

He paused as we entered and smiled. A middle-aged woman and another young girl were sitting on the sofa laughing. He was holding his book, Mein Kampf, in his hand.

"Eva." He gave me a hug. I saw the blond look away and the woman frown.

"Meet my half-sister, Angela," Adolf said, pointing to the woman. "And her daughters Geli and Friedl." He pointed to the blonde and the little girl. "Angela takes care of this apartment and my villa in the Alps." I greeted the woman and shook hands with Friedl.

"I was reading to them from my book," he said, after I had sat.

"The one he wrote in prison," his sister interjected.

"Why were you in prison, Uncle?" Friedl asked.

Adolf smiled. "We tried to take over the government. But the leaders were not ready." He turned to face me. "I was subsequently arrested and tried for high treason. I spent one year in Landsberg prison."

I shook my head in pity. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"It was a good thing. While in prison I wrote this book detailing my struggle. So far, it has sold over two hundred copies and my publisher paid for this house. Misfortune can be a good thing."

I proceeded to show him the pictures and left an hour later. My female instincts told me something was going on between him and Geli.

In the presence of a possible rival, my love for him grew in leaps and bounds. I obviously needed him, more than he needed me, or any woman. He was never seen with a woman in public, despite his charm. He portrayed himself as a lonesome warrior, married to the German people and their fate. His dedication paid off handsomely. The Great Depression of 1928 had thrown the German economy into chaos. Many lost their jobs and there was widespread hardship. Adolf seized this opportunity and campaigned vigorously for his Nazi Party promising to rebuild the economy and create jobs. He advocated a 'New Germany' rid of Jews, Romani gypsies, homosexuals and the supremacy of the Aryan race. We believed him, screaming our loyalty till our voices went hoarse and tears flowed. He was our light.

1931 was my lucky year. My waiting finally paid off. Geli was found dead in her room at Adolf's Munich apartment, his Walther pistol on her hand. This bad news surprisingly made me happy. But I was in for a rude shock. Geli's death broke Adolf in many pieces. He mourned her endlessly, cancelling many of his speaking appointments. Geli's mother blamed her daughter's death on Adolf's obsessive nature.

"You jealous bastard!" she raged. "You had her followed. You broke off every possible male contact. You practically made her a prisoner!"

Adolf sobbed like a child.

"I loved her," he said, crying inconsolably. "I loved her with all my heart."

He refused food for days and declined to see his party leaders.

One evening, my boss voiced his concern. "We are losing Herr Wolff. Try to bring him back."

That night, I slept in his apartment and listened to him talk to himself all night.

"The German people need you. You will win next years Presidential elections," I said.

He paused for a moment. I saw a faint glimmer in his eyes. Holding his head in my eyes, I spoke to him matter-of-factedly.

"Do this for Geli. Do this for the New Germany."

He nodded, wiped his tears and went into the room that served as his office.

The next morning, he assembled the leaders of the Nazi Party in his apartment and they strartegized for the next year's elections. There was a renewed vigour in his speeches. And a new venom.

He lost in the 1932 Presidential elections to Hidenburg despite vigorous campaign. Yet, because he had the backing of key industrialists, President Hidenburg was pressurized into forming a coalition naming him Chancellor. I saw less and less of him and grew more despondent. Taking my father's pistol one summer afternoon of 1932, I pointed the muzzle to my chest and fired. I woke up days later in the hospital. My parents were by my side.

"What were you thinking?" my father asked, after I was fully awake.

I was silent, wondering inwardly if the news reached Adolf.

He was there the next day. There was devotion in his eyes. My parents were escorted to the adjacent room.

"My love," I said, smiling weakly. "I live only for you."

He nodded. "Your love and loyalty was never in doubt. Yet, you were ready to lose your life." He held my hand. "I need you alive, not dead."

From then onwards, our love took a different turn. I was twenty and madly in love the most powerful man in Germany. He paid me more attention and bought a three-bedroom apartment for me. I moved in there with my younger sister, Gretl, despite my father's protests. Adolf was doting, taking me to movies and operas whenever he was in town. In public, however, we acted as strangers. Ocassionally, he would get an envelope full of cash to me through any of his assistants. 

His profile rose. By 1933, his book had sold a million copies and he was the undisputed Leader of the Nazi Party, the only thriving party in Germany. I often overheard him talking to party leaders about altering the constitution to grant absolute powers to the Leader of the nation. By 1934, after Hidenburg's death, Adolf had ultimate control and became the Führer und Reichskanzler of Germany. Leader and Head of State. I was extremely proud of him.

"The more important the man, the less important the woman," he said one evening at the dinner table. I ate on in silence.

"Why don't we get married?" I asked, looking up.

He gave me a stern look. "I am married to the German people. A wife and children? What a distraction!" He left the table, incensed.

The years wore on. I visited him whenever he was in town. I was also the hostess of the Berghof, his villa within the Obersalzberg of the Bavarian Alps. As Adolf's responsibility piled, he shuttled between Berlin and the Berghof. The 1936 Summer Olympics was a testament to his organizational genius. A 100,000 seat track and field stadia was built with many gymnasia. It was billed to be an experiment to prove the Aryan superiority. It backfired. A negroe, Jesse Owens won four gold medals is sprint and long jump, much to Adolf's dismay. The winter Olympics was also hosted by Germany and for the very first time, Adolf allowed me to sit by his side in public. The papers carried a picture of us the next day but made nothing of it.

What everyone now calls the second World War almost never happened. It was a bet went wrong, a bad decision. Adolf had invaded Poland, hoping that Britain and France will stand aloof. With tacit support from Italy and Japan, he had sought to expand German territories, a conquest for the German people. On the evening of September 3,1939, his Ambassador to London, Joachim von Ribbentrop broke the bad news. I was eavesdropping from the door of his office.

"Führer, Britain and France just declared war on us."

I heard a fist bang on the table. "You assured me that such won't happen! Now what?"

I hurried quickly into my room, burying myself in a novel.

By mid-1940, things have escalated. Adolf also began to change. I noticed the tremors one morning when I entered his office to greet him. He could not stop them. He put his hands behind him, on seeing me.

"We are at war,"he said. "I will be spending more time in Berlin."

I nodded mutely, aware of the implications. Prolonged absence. Crushing loneliness. I had gotten used to it.

Months later, Gretl came to visit. She found me seated at the projection booth seeing a movie.

"The whole world is at war and you are here seeing a movie?" she asked.

I smiled. "It will be over soon."

"Have you heard of what was being done to Jews captured in Poland?" she said, looking around.

"They're being killed?" I offered, wondering why she was acting strange.

"Worse. They are being gassed to death. Millions of them being massacred in Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Sorbibor, Bergen-belsen, Treblinka..." She broke down in sobs. "It feels so, so wrong."

I supported her shaking frame. "The Führer knows best. Have faith."

On 20th July 1944, Adolf's assistant Bormann greeted me with bad news. There had been an assasination attempt on the Führer. A bomb had exploded in Rastenburg. I hurried to the hospital. The doctor said he was fine except for ruptured eardrums and the over 200 splinters of wood removed from his leg.

I held his hand all evening till he fell asleep. The next morning, Heinrich Himmler, the head of the SS, visited.

"Is it done?"Adolf asked, struggling to sit up.

Himmler nodded. "We've rounded all the traitors and shot them. 4,900 of them."

"Any news from the front?"Adolf asked.

Himmler hesistated for a moment. "The Red Army and the Western Allies are about invading Germany. We are losing serious grounds."

Adolf smiled weakly. "We are unconquerable, Heinrich. Just believe."

By the spring of 1945, most of the Third Reich had been destroyed by the Soviet Army and the Western Allies. The enemy were marching progressively towards Berlin. I had travelled to the Führerbunker to be by the side of the man to whom I belonged.

"Why did you come?" he asked, on seeing me.

"From our first meeting, I swore to follow you anywhere, even unto death," I said, kissing his lips.

In the coming days, many of his generals deserted him. He fought on, rejecting every proposal of surrender.

On 20th April, he marked his 56th birthday by awarding Iron Crosses to the boys of the Hitler Youth who were fighting the Soviets at the Berlin front. Just after the midnight of 28th April, Adolf became my legally wedded husband. It was a small, civil ceremony, accompanied later by a marriage breakfast. I was awash with joy as I signed the marriage certificate as 'Eva Hitler.'

I looked at his calm face again, part of his signature moustache covered with clotted blood. I placed one of the rubbery cyanide capsule in my mouth. I took one last look at the room. On the wall, Adolf had written in black paint, "I and my wife choose death to avoid the shame of flight  or surrender." Geli's portrait hung on the wall, her piercing eyes taunting me. I rolled my tongue on the capsule and bit. I felt a trickle in my mouth. Within minutes, I was engulfed by a surrounding darkness. I saw the concrete ceiling of the Führerbunker melt away and countless bodies of starved, dead Jews heaped upon me. I struggled to emerge from the pile only to be knocked down by another heap of dead bodies. I stayed down.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015. Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.