Paradox Part 2

Chapter 1
April 3, 2012 – Bavaria Germany

Monday Stiehl fell in love with Berchtesgaden, located deep in the Bavarian Alps, a long time ago when stationed nearby in a little town called Bad Tolz. At that time, he was serving a tour of duty with the United States Army 10th Special Forces Group. He spent many of his weekends in the beautiful alpine village sitting in a small café looking up at the Obersalzberg mountain retreat. This was where Nazi Fuhrer Adolph Hitler built his famous "Eagle’s Nest" or the Kehlsteinhaus, as it is commonly called in Bavaria.
Monday often stayed at the Gasthof Neuhaus looking down Marktplatz Straße toward the square, with the spires of the Stiftskirche church in the background. From this vantagepoint, he could observe the colorful locals in their traditional Alpine Trachten clothing - the women in Dirndls and the men wearing comfortable Lederhosen and traditional leather jackets.
Monday was back now after several years for a personal reason. He was in Berchtesgaden to meet Daria Wolff, the granddaughter of Paula Hitler. Most people never realized that Hitler had an extended family. Daria’s grandmother, Paula, was Adolf Hitler's only sister who lived to adulthood. During much of the Third Reich period she lived incognito by her brother's wishes, as Paula Wolff (Hitler’s nickname.) After the war she lived quietly in Berchtesgaden, where she died in 1960 and was buried in the Bergfriedhof cemetery. Daria’s parents were unknown to her, having disappeared before she was born.
Several years earlier, Monday met Daria Wolff in a small restaurant on Marktplatz Straße. He was attending an Archeological Convention in Munich at the time and could not resist returning to his beautiful Berchtesgaden. They became friends immediately. Although Daria was then engaged to a local businessman, she had a free outgoing spirit that struck him as adventurous and dangerous at the same time. She was a complete stranger and he asked her if they had destroyed the old General Walker Hotel, another place he had once enjoyed staying.
When Daria found out that it was Monday’s first trip back to Berchtesgaden in over ten years, she insisted on giving him a tour of the changes that had taken place. It was a most memorable day, the day he fell desperately in love with a blond haired, blue eyed, Bavarian girl.
However, despite his pleading and near to tears begging, she refused to break off her engagement and left him standing in the middle of the street, his heart in agony, his thoughts in turmoil.
Monday was the son of a German American immigrant, Heinreich Wilhelm Adolphus von Stiehl, pronounced steel, and an Irish mother Rose Denise Carney.
According to his mother, at his birth his father exclaimed; "Vhat a keen Monday to haf a sohn!" This was in the new fragmented English he was learning, and then his eyes lit up and he said with a big grin; "That iss his name, Rosie. I vill name him, Monday. Monday Von Stiehl. No! I will add another name to please you and call him Keen Monday Von Stiehl. The Keen is for you as Irish it be, und if you read into der name don't you zee, keen steel? Ja. Sharp Steel! Das Iss is goot Rosie." His father's odd sense of humor escaped him. Fortunately his mother had the presence of mind to spell his first name Keane instead of the keen his father insisted on. However, that didn't matter because as soon as everyone learned that his middle name was Monday, that's the only name he was ever called. The family later dropped the von in front of Stiehl.
Monday had a twin brother, born several minutes after him. His, little brother, as Monday often called him, was named Huckleberry Finn Stiehl. And, as one might guess; their father was also an avid fan of Samuel Clemens, AKA, Mark Twain. They had a little sister named Maggie presently attending college.
Monday grew into a strapping young man with blue green eyes, dark brown hair, around six two in height, with an insatiable appetite for learning. He also held an adventurous streak that found him backpacking through Central America, horseback riding in the American Rocky Mountains, and attempting every dangerous sport there was. His need for adventure and travel eventually led him to join the US Army and volunteer for Airborne/Ranger/Special Forces training with assignments carrying him around the world to learn and study with the Special Forces of dozens of allied countries.
Not wanting a lengthy military career, Monday resigned his commission and went back to grad school to pursue his first love, archeology. From a tender young age, he had always wanted to dig up mysteries. Now, in his early forties, he achieved his goal and was a highly respected archeologist and historian, approaching tenure at Loyola University in Chicago.
Daria called Stiehl several days ago and ask that he help her to restore her grandmother’s tainted memory. She fought the local authorities for over a year and could get nothing done.
Now, he sat nervously waiting for her to meet him. He was the sole occupant of a small uncomfortable stone bench with two large ceramic urns at each end, but his vantage-point overlooking the Marktplatz Straße was unimpeded. He would be able to see her coming from a long distance.
A pair of hands suddenly closed around his eyes blinding him. "Surprise!" Daria laughed, her pleasant giggling voice betraying her mischievous humor. "Thought you’d see me first didn’t you?"
He stood and pulled her hands from his eyes and looked again into the deep blue eyes of the girl he could never forget, the love that he lost, but had never given up. She had changed very little, if anything. She was more beautiful, more vibrant than ever.
She was still a mystery to him. Daria was a petite honey blond who had a mischievous elfin like grin, dazzling blue eyes, and an infectious personality. She said that her grandmother was the sister of Adolph Hitler, but she had never elaborated on her private life. Monday, like most academicians, thought Paula Hitler to have been childless. In her mid to late thirties, Daria could easily pass for twenty-five.
"English or German," he asked, knowing that her English was poor at best while his German was almost flawless.
She didn’t immediately answer, probably because she was expecting his first words to be something less casual or perhaps even flattering. He continued on in German as he pointed to the uncomfortable bench for her to sit.
"It’s wonderful to see you again Monday." Daria draped a piece of paper on the bench so she would not get her dress soiled. She was not wearing the traditional Bavarian dirndl but a simple skirt and blouse. She also sounded as if she sincerely meant it. "And it’s still Daria Wolff, she finished, raising her right eyebrow in a searching sign.
His heart jumped several beats upon learning this news. ‘So, she had not married her businessman after all. But, she had stopped writing to me over a year ago. Perhaps she is involved with someone else?’
"What makes you think that I can help you with your grandmother’s grave?" He avoided her questioning eyes. "I’m not a German national and have no special pull with the German Government."
"But you are a preeminent and world famous archeologist," she stated. "If the government will not help, perhaps the Cultural Minister will. I know you have very good connections with them.”
"I understand that your grandmother was the sister of Adolph Hitler, but I am also certain that the German Government and the German Cultural Minister are well aware of this fact. I doubt they will be interested in your grandmother’s final burial place? That’s a sad part of German history that most want to forget."
"There’s more." Daria picked up her large handbag and dug through it. She quickly pulled out a small, very worn and obviously antique notebook. "This is my grandmother’s diary. My mother Klara kept it hidden from the Allies after the war and the new German Government and passed it on to me when she died. There is an entry at the end of the diary I would like for you to read."
Daria very carefully passed the delicate diary over to him, her finger pointing at a paragraph in faded but legible writing. It was the writing of a woman with beautiful penmanship.
"To my beloved future family," the entry stated. "I, the true and only sister of Adolph Hitler, have a secret that you may be able to use to your advantage should difficult times arise. Hidden within the lining of the dress in which I have chosen to be buried is the directions to 20 tons of pure gold hidden by my brother Dolf (she used the affectionate Dolf instead of Adolph) before the Allies invaded our Fatherland. I cannot take the chance to recover it; however, time will be on your side. With eternal love, Paula."
His mouth dropped open after reading the entry. "You do realize that if we turn this over to the German Government they will take the gold?" Any treasure of that era is highly suspect with multiple claims against it."
"I also know of a German family who received a finders fee for a Nazi treasure they uncovered," Daria replied. "A finders fee of five percent of the total value of the goods. I want that finder’s fee. I can use part of it to rebury my grandmother in a place of honor and respect. She had nothing to do with my great Uncle Adolph’s Nazi Party. In fact, he made here change her name and live incognito. She knew family secrets that he didn’t want the world to find out, such as a Jewish bloodline far in the past."
"Looks like you need an attorney instead of an archeologist," Monday stated. "If the directions are easy enough to follow, even an attorney can help you find the gold."
Daria looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "I know we will need an attorney, but I need an archeologist and not just any archeologist. I need you Monday. I've tried to forget you, to go on with my life - God! How I’ve tried to make you go away. But, you’re still there, you won’t go away, and now I don’t want you to go away. Not ever!" She was almost in tears when she finished her rapid speech.
His heart started throbbing in his chest as if he had just finished a marathon race. He could barely catch his breath, his hands were shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, his legs like mush.
"Kiss me you dumb, stupid, wonderful American." She reached out to embrace him. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood embracing each other on the busy sidewalk of Marktplatz Straße with smiling people walking past. But they saw no one, only each other.
For days on end they explored the town, explored each other, and reveled in their newfound love. When Monday received calls from the convention organizers reminding him of his lack of attendance, he ignored them. When Daria got calls from work, she simply did not answer them. He did make inquiries and managed to obtain permission to open the grave, but the focus of their attention was on each other.
Two weeks later they stood over a grave in the Bergfriedhof cemetery. Standing with them was a representative of the German Cultural Ministry, a German attorney and two members of the other family that was buried in the same plot and their priest.
With a small backhoe, it took only minutes to uncover the three caskets in the shallow grave. Two were immediately identified and set aside for reburial by the priest, the third was gently set on a dolly to be taken to a waiting hearse. It was in remarkably good condition for having been in the ground since 1960. There were no markings on the casket and no plaque identifying the occupant.
They followed the hearse to a local funeral home and gathered inside for the official opening of the casket. The funeral home director stood by in somber grace. When the lid was finally opened, no repugnant smell of decay poured out and the elderly body was in relitaavely good shape. A piece of paper lay on the corpse’s chest.
Monday bent over so he could read it: " Paula Hitler, born on January 21, 1896, beloved daughter of Alois and Klara Hitler." He could see the tears forming in Daria’s eyes. This was, after all, her grandmother, even if she was the sister of Adolph Hitler.
The official from the Cultural Ministry moved in and started feeling the lining of the corpse’s dress. His hand stopped at a sudden bulge. He held up a sharp pair of scissors and looked at Daria as if to ask permission. She nodded her head.
Very carefully the man slit the fabric and removed a dusty packet of papers. He took them over to a stainless steel table and started to unfold them. After several minutes of careful reading he turned to them. "It’s here. The directions to the gold are legible. The government will keep its part of the bargain."
With a flourish, he placed the documents in a protective plastic bag, had their attorney sign a receipt, then they quickly left the room together to copy the documents.
Daria gently reached into the casket and slowly removed her grandmother’s simple ring. "They said she never married," Daria whispered. "Why was she wearing a wedding band?"
"History is full of mistakes." Monday was holding Daria snugly against his chest. "That’s why I love archeology so much, to help bring back the truth. The ring may also be something other than a wedding band."
She gently replaced the ring and reached over to tuck in the fabric where the dress had been cut open.
"Something else here." Daria pulled out another small piece of paper. She held it up so they both could read it. "Dolf is not dead." The words read. "He escaped Berlin at the last minute in a U-boat and fled to South America. Following is the means we used to stay in touch with each other…"
"Hitler lived!" Monday was shocked at her find. "And we have the means to find him, or to at least find out what really happened to him." This was an archeologist’s dream and would be a feather in his professional cap.
"It says at the end of this note that Nazi science had progressed much farther than the world realized," Daria whispered, still reading the note. "On March 13, 1946, The miracle breakthrough occurred. The Reich will be saved and reborn. After that, I only received one note from Eva in 1948 that said for me to look in the Argentinean City of Villa La Angostura in a grave marked Hanna Reitsch. I have also been deceitful dear family. Dolf and Eva had a daughter and named her Klara Wolff after his mother. Klara had only one child and named her Daria.” The note also said that a treasure far greater than all the gold in the world waited there and the drawing of an unfamiliar symbol was interposed on the right bottom edge of the note.
They glanced at each other in shock! Hitler had lived and a secret lay waiting that could change the world.
“This means that Paula was not my true grandmother.” Daria’s mouth flew wide open. “My grandmother was really Eva and my mother was named Klara Wolff. My grandfather was…Adolph Hitler! Oh my God!:
She looked as if she was ready to collapse, so Monday picked her up and sat her in a chair by a computer stand. Her breath was coming in small gasps and she had a red flush to her face. “How can this be?” Daria cried. “How can I be the granddaughter of one of the most hated men in history?”

Meanwhile, in the back seat of a dark Mercedes, the German attorney and representative of the Cultural Ministry had just shaken hands on a new deal. The German government would never learn of the gold and of the four who knew about it, two were…expendable.