Dear Heli!
As I don’t know where Emmy and Edda are,
please tell me their address if you know it. Are they
still at Fischhorn? How are things with you? Where is
Ango? Not very much I can tell you, we’ve all just got
to grin and bear it. But I wish you all the best from
the bottom of my heart.
Andrus could not have forwarded this letter even had he
wanted to. “Ango” Bouhler had taken cyanide in U.S. captivity,
and Helga had leaped to her death from a high window at
Fischhorn.
The Americans pocketed these early letters and sold them
off privately years later.
Of course, the prisoners were puzzled about the lack of any
response. “We’ve been permitted to write letters and postcards
for two months,” wrote Keitel on October , “but no replies
have been received.”
Göring’s blue luggage had been stowed in a baggage room
to which only a few named officers held the key. “There was one
item,” Andrus would insist later, “that belonged to Göring
which he was never allowed to go into, and that was a vanity case
containing bottles, jars, nail file, scissors, etc. To the best of my
knowledge this vanity case was never opened until it was
searched for some salve” a search that was a consequence, in
fact, of the last posthumous shaft that Göring would loose off at
the colonel, his detested jailer.
At the end of August Andrus asked Pflücker why the
prisoners’ condition was deteriorating, and the doctor pointed
to the poor food and lack of human contact (so he testified to
the later board of inquiry): “The colonel ordered better food. I
was permitted to speak to the prisoners more.”