"Schön, dass du es auch geschafft hast, Alistair! (Nice to see you've made it here as well, Alistair!" Joseph Goebbels said as he quickly stopped in passing. He lay his hand on President Bowmores arm. "I will get you a good seat, come with me. And afterwards I propose we go for a drink with Adolf?" Confused and surprised President Bowmore followed the Reichspropagandaleiter through the crowd of people. He had no idea where he was, except for the fact that he had, once again, dreamt about Nazi Germany. Why were Goebbels and Hitler following him in his dreams? Was this a side effect of a mental disorder, perhaps a warning sign of anxiety or a burn-out? But he dutifully followed Goebbels through the crowd and up a thin flight of stairs. "I'm sure you will find Adolf's speech today very interesting, here, this is a good place, I have to go down. But after we're done I will come back up for you. Alright?" Without waiting for an answer the smallish man turned and left, disappearing back down the stairs. Baffled and ruffled President Bowmore turned around.
The view was breathtaking. He was on the balcony in a vast hall. On the floor below him were hundreds, maybe even thousands of German citizens. He smiled at the gentleman to his right but didn't recognize him. That meant he couldn't be of great importance, Bowmore had spent years studying Nazi Germany in university, and he could still recall almost every famous politician or general at the time. Though sure that it was still in a time before world war II he wasn't sure exactly when. It could have been anywhere between 1934 and 1938, perhaps even early 1939.
He leaned forwards, unwilling to take a seat. Why wasn't his dream skipping? He wanted to hear the speech, wanted to hear what Hitler had to say. In his studies he'd listened to almost every one of Hitler's speeches that you could find online, and perhaps he'd be able to contextualize the year, or perhaps a precise date.
Someone announced the Führer and there he came, walking onto the podium. For the first time, the dream felt like a dream to Alistair Bowmore. Hitler walked with his head held high, his elbow cutting into his ribcage, his hand stiffly by the side of his head. The crowd cheered, shouting 'Heil' their arms rasied in the forbidden salute. Even the gentleman next to him raised his arm, and when he eyed President Bowmore suspicously, he too raised an arm. It was too surreal, but at the same time too accurate to be a dream. How was this possible...?
Right below where he was standing, hung a gianourmas German flag. The Hakenkreuz was there for everybody to see. The American President listened with an awareness and discipline that he hadn't found in himself for months. And during the speech he fully realized what the difference between Hitler and many politicians was, Hitler was not only engaged with the audience, his aura made it impossible to not look and listen, when many other politicians talked, their audience was mostly absent in mind. This man is truely an artist...President Bowmore thought. Everything is exactly right.
After mere seconds of the speech Bowmore could tell exactly what day it was, and what the speech was about. It was the 26th of September 1938, he was in the Sportpalast in Berlin, and Hitler was adressing the German public on Czechoslovakia.
"Ich habe Herr Beneš ein Angebot gemacht! (I made Mr. Beneš an offer)" The words that Alistair had heard at least seven to eight times rang through the hall. "...It lies in his hands! Peace or war!" Bowmore was transfixed by the way Hitler delivered his speech; it was even more gripping and lively in real life. On the screen one could follow his movements, hear his strong, almost powerfull voice, but it was nothing like seeing the German Dictator deliver his speech with you own eyes. "...He can either give us Germans our freedom, or we will take it ourselves!" The crowd errupted into cheer. Had Alistair Bowmore not been paralyzed by the power Hitler radiated, or the fact that he was witnessing the famous speech first-hand, he might have cheered too, regardless that this man was Hitler and that he knew all of the things Hitler had done and would do. "...I now march in front of my soldiers as the first soldier!" He shouted, gaining huge uproars of approval from the crowd, "And behind me," he had to pause, the cheering continued, too loud for him to speak over, he repeated; "and behind me, let the world know, marches a people, a people so very different from the people of 1918!" Once again the crowd exploded into cheers.
At the end of his speech President Bowmore stood up, along with everyone else in the Sportpalast. He didn't join into the shouts of 'heil' or chant Hitler's name, his conscience stopped him from doing so. But for a split second he gazed upon Hitler with a different look, a look of not only historical admiration but also almost pride.
Goebbels kept true to his word, after a bit he appeared, right behind the confused American, and he fished him out from the balcony. President Bowmore followed the Reichspropagandaleiter down the stairs, they weaved through the Sportspalast and then, all of a sudden they were outside again. The cool air slapped the Presidents cheeks, reminding him of what had just happened and how inappropriatly he'd acted. Even thought this was just a dream he still wasn't allowed to salute Hitler, to listen to him with the intensity that he had, it was immoral.
"Come with me, Alistair. We'll be back at Adolf's shortly. How did you enjoy the whiskey from last time?"
But when Goebbels turned to him as a beautiful old car drove up to the side of the building, President Bowmore proved himself guilty.