![]() But because I have gotten to know him well over the years, it seems likely that he was thinking of the other young men he had served with, and fought with, during the war. I did not want to intrude, and never asked him about what he was thinking. I did not know if the other man had ever visited the Fuhrer bunker before, but at the site I watched as he walked around the parking lot and perimeter of the site, alone in his thoughts. While under quarantine, I was recently saddened to learn that he passed away. He just smiled and turned our conversation to Mommsen’s History of Rome, which I understood to be his poetic way of implying that everything passes. When we talked about the day later that evening at dinner, I asked him if he had any thoughts about the site from his previous visits. I knew that one man had been to the site several times before when doing business in Berlin over the years, but was still a little surprised when he decided to stay at the hotel. My most memorable part of the experience of visiting the site is recalling the reactions of two of our guests, both men in their 90s, both veterans who served in World War II, but not in Europe. Although all our guests knew what to expect of the site, a visit to the apartment parking lot that covers the underground bunker today, marked for memory only by a somewhat shabby metal frame and plastic covered historical sign explaining the significance of the place one is standing, and what is underneath your feet, remains a somewhat unsettling experience for anyone with a historical mind or moral conscience. A Museum tour in 2017 visited the Fuhrer bunker in Berlin, site of Hitler’s final demise. ![]()
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