Brian W. Aldiss - Swastika

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SWASTIKA!

by Brian W. Aldiss

Black humor is the mark of our times. Perhaps because if we do not laugh at the state of things

we shall have to cry. And crying is simply a waste of time, no matter how good it feels while

indulging in it. Catch 22 was the book on this theme, and Dr. Strangelove the movie. Now we

have Brian Aldiss's short story that, once and for all, should lay to rest all those vicious rumors

about Adolf Hitler being alive and well in Argentina. He is not. He is… well, let Mr. Aldiss tell

you…

On April 30, 1945, in his Bunker in the Berlin Chancellery, Adolf Hitler crunched an ampule of

potassium cyanide. Then he was shot through the head by Heinz Linge, his valet, and his body taken out

into the garden of the Chancellery and burned—or partially burned.

Some of these facts were known almost immediately. Luckily, the Soviet forces got to the scene of the

crime first and, only twenty-three years later, rushed out the rest of the facts. The one thing that makes

me doubt the truth of the whole account is that I happen to know Hitler is alive and well and living in

Ostend under the assumed name—at least, I assume it is assumed—of Geoffrey Bunglevester.

I was over to see him last week, before the winter became too advanced. Of course, he is getting on in

years now, but is amazingly spry for his age and still takes an interest in politics, supporting, the Flems

against the Walloons.

We had been talking business but gradually turned to more personal matters.

"Looking back," I said, "do you ever have any regrets?"

"I wish I'd done more with my painting." A faroff look came into his eyes. "Landscape painting—that

would have suited me. I flatter myself I always had an eye for pretty landscapes." He started reeling off

their names: the Rhineland, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland… To keep him to the subject, I said, "I'd

certainly agree that some of your early watercolors showed astonishing promise, but haven't you ever

regretted—well, any of your . military judgments?"

He looked me straight in the eye, brushing his forelock back to do so.

"You're not getting at me, Brian, are you? You're not trying to be sarcastic at my expense?"

"No, honestly, Geoff, why should I?"

He leaned over the table toward me and glanced over one shoulder.

"You are Aryan, aren't you?"

I went to an English public school, if that's what you mean."

'That's good enough for me. Very fine unrivaled disciplinary system! Well, I apologize, I thought you

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Brian W. Aldiss - Swastika

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