“You will be my personal representative in the world of the arts. Wearing the uniform at official events will give the SS added prestige and respect. I was thinking perhaps . . .
“I am flattered,
“You will accept then?”
“With honor, sir!”
“Excellent! Willie, get me the Bible from that table over there. I will administer the oath personally.”
“Yes,
Vierhaus got the Bible and handed it to Ingersoll. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me,” said Hitler. Ingersoll held the Bible in his left hand and raised his right. Hitler repeated the oath of the SS:
“I swear to thee Adolf Hitler,
As Fuhrer and Chancellor of the German Reich,
Loyalty and bravery.
I vow to thee and to the superiors
Whom thou shalt appoint
Obedience unto death,
So help me God.”
Ingersoll repeated the entire oath verbatim.
Hitler smiled and held out his hand.
“Congratulations, Colonel. I will put you in touch with my personal tailor in Berlin. Your uniform will be my gift. Along with this.”
Hitler held his hand out. Vierhaus took a package from his coat pocket and gave it to him. It was wrapped as a present, a long slender box, about a foot long, four or five inches wide. Hitler offered it to Ingersoll.
“Congratulations,” he said with a smile. Yet, as Ingersoll met his gaze, he saw more than a smile. He saw pride. And he saw anticipation.
The actor slowly took the package in both hands and stared at it a moment. Subconsciously he hefted it once or twice, a throwback to his childhood when the heaviest gifts were always the best. It was heavy enough.
“Open it, open it,” Hitler said impatiently.
Ingersoll put it on the edge of the table and took off the wrapping paper. It was a mahogany box. Inside was a dagger, the official SS long knife, ebony handled with a gleaming double-edged blade almost a foot long scabarded in black leather. On the hilt was the official SS insignia, two jagged lightning streaks in gold. He turned it over and on the opposite side of the handle was a golden eagle perched on a wreath which encircled a diamond-studded swastika. He drew the dagger from its scabbard. Just below the hilt, pressed into the steel, were the initials “A.H.”
Ingersoll was struck dumb. In a matter of moments he had been commissioned a colonel in the SS and presented with a personal gift signed by the Fuhrer.
He looked at Hitler with adoration.
“I can tell you this now,” he stammered. “Although we have been keeping it a very guarded secret, I’ve made five horror films in less than two years and frankly, I want to get away from these thrillers, play a dramatic part. Stretch my talent. We plan to have the world premiere of
Hitler looked at Vierhaus for a moment and pursed his lips.
Hitler began to stride the room, Lands behind his back, slapping a fist into the palm of his other hand. He stared at the ceiling of the room as he spoke.
“You have a unique combination of talents, my friend. You are a superb actor. You speak four languages fluently, you are a master of dialects and accents. You are a master of disguise, a soldier and a survivalist, an acrobat. You believe in the Third Reich. And . . you are a killer. Two squads of American Marines in one encounter, correct?”
He stopped and looked down at Ingersoll.
“Yes, Fuhrer, that is correct.”
“Was it difficult? The killing, I mean?”
Ingersoll stared at him for a few seconds and smiled. “On the contrary, Fuhrer, it was very satisfying,” he said.
“There, you see,” Hitler said, spreading his arms to his sides. “Unique talents. One of a kind. Did I tell you, Willie?”
“Yes,
