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reached Ritter and Hoffer.
    Fegelein said, 'Sturmbannfuhrer Karl Ritter and Sturmscharfuhrer Erich Hoffer of the 502nd SS Heavy Tank Battalion.' He started to read the citation. 'Shortly after dawn on the morning of Wednesday, April 25th...' but the Fuhrer cut him off with a chopping motion of one hand.
    There was fire in the dark eyes now, a sudden energy as he snapped his fingers impatiently for Jodl to pass the decoration. Ritter stared impassively ahead, aware of the hands touching him lightly, and then, for the briefest of moments, they tightened on his arm.
    He looked directly into the eyes, aware of the power, the burning intensity, there again if only for a moment, the hoarse voice saying, 'Your Fuhrer thanks you, on behalf of the German people.'
    Hitler turned. 'Are you aware of this officer's achievement, gentlemen? Assisted by only two other tanks, he wiped out an entire British column of the 7th Armoured Division. Thirty armoured vehicles left blazing. Can you hear that and still tell me that we cannot win this war? If one man can do so much what could fifty like him accomplish?'
    They all shifted uncomfortably. Krebs said, 'But of course, my Fuhrer. Under your inspired leadership anything is possible.'
    'Goebbels must have written that line for him,' Bormann whispered to Rattenhuber. 'You know, Willi, I'm enjoying this, and look at our proud young Sturmbannfuhrer. He looks like Death himself with that pale face and black uniform, come to remind us all of what waits outside these walls. Have you ever read "Masque of the Red Death" by the American writer Poe?'
    'No, I can't say that I have, Reichsleiter.'
    'You should, Willi. An interesting parallel on the impossibility of locking out reality for long.'
    An orderly clattered down the steps, brushed past Bormann and Rattenhuber and hesitated on seeing what was taking place. Krebs, who obviously recognized the man, moved to one side and snapped his fingers. The orderly passed him a signal flimsy which Krebs quickly scanned.
    Hitler moved forward eagerly. 'Is it news of Wenck?' he demanded.
    He was still convinced that the 12th Army under General Wenck was going to break through to the relief of Berlin at any moment.
    Krebs hesitated and the Fuhrer said, 'Read it, man! Read it!'
    Krebs swallowed hard, then said, 'No possibility of Wenck and the 9th Army joining. Await further instruction.'
    The Fuhrer exploded with rage. 'The same story as Sunday. I gave the 11th Panzer Army to SS-General Steiner and all available personnel in his area with orders to attack. And what happened?'
    The fact that the army in question had existed on paper only, a figment of someone's imagination, was not the point, for no one would have had the courage to tell him.
    'So, even my SS let me down - betray me in my hour of need. Well, it won't do, gentlemen.' He was almost hysterical now. 'I have a way of dealing with traitors. Remember the July plot? Remember the films of the executions I ordered you to watch?'
    He turned, stumbled back into the map room followed by Jodl, Keitel and Krebs. The door closed. Fegelein, moving as a man in a dream, signalled to one of the SS orderlies, who took the children away.
    There was silence, then Ritter said, 'What now, General?'
    Fegelein started. 'What did you say?'
    'What do we do now?'
    'Oh, go to the canteen. Food will be provided. Have a drink. Relax.' He forced a smile and clapped Ritter on the shoulder. 'Take it easy for a while, Major, I'll send for you soon. Fresh fields to conquer, I promise.'
    He nodded to an orderly, who led the way. Ritter and Hoffer followed him, up the steps. Bormann and Rattenhuber were no longer there.
    At the top, Ritter said softly, 'What do you think of that, then, Erich? Little children and old men led by a raving madman. So, now we start paying the bill, I think - all of us.'
    When he reached his office, Fegelein closed the door, went behind his desk and sat down. He opened a cupboard, took out a bottle of brandy,