As camp life changed for the worse, so did Kurt. The former
Abwehr officer became progressively more pensive and given to
aimless rumination. Unusual for inmates, he increasingly rambled
about his previous life. One evening when he was in a particularly
nostalgic mood, he recalled a family outing dating to when he and
the Abwehr were still respected and not yet highly suspect in the
eyes of the Nazis.
Bem P. Allen, Jr. 145
He, his wife Anna, and their sons, Hans and Dieter, had
attended a night garden party at the Berlin residence of career
diplomat Ulrich von Hassell. Ambassador von Hassell and family
were rarely in Berlin for long, but typically threw an elaborate
party for their many friends when they returned to the capital.
This lovely summer evening, the von Hassells’ veranda ceiling was
festooned with brightly colored paper lanterns lit by aromatic candles
that produced a scent almost as heavenly as the fragrance of the roses,
azaleas, and Van Thol tulips planted in beds around the yard. Soon
after their arrival, Kurt’s boys were romping in the grass, running
and wrestling with each other like otters. His stately blond and blueeyed
wife was standing in the shadows of a large and ornate playhouse
discussing the von Hassells’ current post in Italy with Ilse von
Hassell, daughter of Grand Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz. It was an
idyllic scene of the good life among Germany’s elite.
As he reflected on that enchanted occasion, Kurt saw himself
seated alone on the veranda, observing from afar. His joyful children
and extraordinary wife had been too good to be true. As he
gazed at them, overcome with affection, he had an awesome premonition.
All that he beheld, his family, the elegant von Hassels
and their guests, the German nobility, even the culture of Goethe
and Beethoven, all would be consumed in the Nazi conflagration.