Introduction

 

Elsa Wittman was a pert eighteen year old in 1938 when she somehow found herself topless in the presence of the German Führer, Adolf Hitler, triggering an obsession that ran throughout the war until the ruins of Berlin in 1945.

This is a politically incorrect retelling of World War Two, perhaps revealing the reason for Hitler's erratic behavior at several key moments when he ought to have been concentrating on the military and political situation rather than Elsa's bosom.

This is history, but not as we know it.

The fact that Elsa was also a Zombie might also have had a bearing on the situation. You be the judge.

PROLOGUE

WEDNESDAY AUGUST 31, 1938

 

Adolf Hitler was distracted, and not a little bored. It was not all fun and excitement being the German Chancellor. The glow from his recent triumph two days previously at Munich over the Prime Minister of Great Britain, Neville Chamberlain, was fading faster than the dictator had expected. The risks of his current strategy seemed to grow in tandem with the rewards. He wondered just how much longer he could go on fooling the European powers before somebody called his bluff.

The German Führer would have much preferred to have been back in the comfort of Berlin adding the finishing touches to the speeches he was due to deliver at the upcoming party rally at Nuremberg the following week and supervise the planning for his long-planned invasion of Czecho-Slovakia rather than be bounced around on rough country roads in the back of a limousine, but there were always such demands on his time and energy. Dressed in light brown trousers and jacket, white shirt and tie, and with a party armband the only decoration, he was hot and bothered and occasionally stifled a sneeze as particles of the fine, white dust from the unsealed road seeped into the cabin.

He had savored the big military display in the capital the previous week designed to intimidate any would-be adversaries, but now he was obliged to make this long-scheduled tour to visit many of the summer-camps scattered throughout Bavaria. Already on that warm Wednesday he had watched a regiment of mountain troops, in their long, baggy trousers, maneuver in serried ranks across a mountain meadow, addressed two massed gatherings of eager Hitlerjugend, observed the cadets at a Luftwaffe glider school perform calisthenics, enjoyed a light lunch with representatives of a local branch of the League of German Women, with only a tour of a camp organized several hundred kilometers from the nearest body of water by the Kriegsmarine for a Schiffstammregimenter of locally recruited young men to break the predictable monotony.

Still, Hitler's aide, the ever efficient Major Darlung, had promised that their next stop would be different, although he was untypically vague as to the nature of the occasion. Hitler eyed him with a silent stare that usually had the effect of turning the bowels of Admirals and Generals alike to water, but which had no apparent effect on the annoying aide. Hitler knew he could not do without the man: but Darlung sometimes trod a very fine line. The black Mercedes sedan finally crunched to a halt in a cloud of white dust on a ridge overlooking a pretty enough Alpine meadow, neatly split down its middle by a narrow but raging Alpine stream which would eventually flow into the Danube. The small convoy of vehicles following the Führer's vehicle also pulled aside as Major Darlung wound down the window to give his boss a better view of proceedings.

At first glance Hitler only observed yet another eager battalion of tanned German youth busily throwing a pontoon bridge over the stream. He may have been a past master at showing enthusiasm at such sights, but for once he allowed his true feelings to show and sighed, at the same time casting a withering glance at his aide, but before he could make his disappointment crystal clear, the major indicated with a gesture that the Führer ought to give the situation more consideration.

The Reichskanzler brushed a persistent strand of black hair from his forehead and stared with deep-set and sternly self-confident pale-blue eyes into the middle distance. His down-curved mouth under that famous moustache was at first typically tense, but suddenly widened into what might have been a smile.

As much perplexed as intrigued by Darlung's odd behavior, Hitler suddenly noticed two things. Firstly, that the bronzed backs of the bridge-builders, all of whom, not surprisingly, had stripped to the waist for their work under the blazing sun, had a subtly different look about them compared to any other similar workforce he could recall inspecting. And then there was the singing. There was always singing on such occasions, but these voices ringing through the clear early autumn air were pitched higher and clearer than might have been expected. Major Darlung could hardly suppress his own smug smile.

"You're not telling me..." spluttered the German Führer, in his distinctive Bavarian accent, as his aide nodded his head furiously and filled in the relevant details.

A hundred meters away, thirty of the strongest members of the battalion were up to their armpits in the cold water struggling to hold aloft a long wooden beam which stubbornly refused to slot neatly into its holding position. Above them on the superstructure two burly youths balanced impatiently with heavy metal pins and mallets at the ready. Their leader urged on the faltering load-bearers enthusiastically from beside them in the water, but knew that their strength was rapidly failing.

That morning they had put up the demountable bridge in exactly seventy-six minutes: their best time yet, and half the time it had taken to complete the task on their first attempt a week earlier. After dismantling it they had tried again and shaved the time by a further two minutes. Now, after a short rest and a Spartan meal, they had almost thrown it over the stream for a third time that day, and this time, if this final beam would only behave itself, they had every chance of shaving another five minutes off their time.

The singing had stopped by then. From the bank, teams of fellow workers held the bridge in place against the current with ropes held in callused and blistered hands while other platoons who had just delivered their loads to those in the stream hauled themselves wearily from the frigid water urged on their comrades with shouts and whistles of encouragement.

Their leader, sensing that the those holding the heavy beam aloft, and who were having difficulty keeping their balance on the stony bed and against the flow of the stream, had nearly expended their all, and that more effort was needed, waded closer and added just enough extra grunt to see it lifted into position long enough for the pair above to ram home the metal pins. A ragged cry of success wafted up to the watchers on the ridge above when an engineer feldwebel named Carl Landsdorf up on the bank, who had been timing the attempt, confirmed that they had again broken their own record.

Hitler sent his driver down to the stream and the members of his party watched as the man caught the attention of the unit's leader who was still waist deep in the water. They saw the driver gesture up to the ridge with an outstretched arm and the leader clamber up the muddy bank and begin to run up the slope towards them.

It was only when the exhausted leader looked up to see the identity of the spectators after scrambling onto the dirt road that she realized that Adolf Hitler himself had been a spectator to their success: and that she was naked apart from muddy ankle boots and a pair of decidedly skimpy shorts.

Elsa Wittmann was exactly eighteen years old, having celebrated her birthday under canvas the day before with a cake made by the camp cook. This was her last camp as part of the Bund Deutscher Mӓdchen- the League of German Girls, the female equivalent of the HitlerJugend Nominally, the League celebrated and reinforced the more traditional aspects of femininity and culture, although it did provide summer camps for its members which offered field craft, athletics and other outdoor pursuits for those so inclined. Elsa however had made it something of a personal crusade to widen the curriculum of the organization and had amazingly succeeded in being allowed to offer a course in field engineering, similar to that routinely enjoyed by their male counterparts.

Advertised discreetly throughout the entire country, although expected to fail even to garner enough support to be run, this initial camp had attracted almost four hundred eager candidates. For two weeks now under the supervision of mostly female instructors from the League as well as a handful of army engineers to offer technical support, the girls had worked hard. Elsa had, to her surprise and delight, discovered that there were in fact many young German women who shared her athletic interest in outdoor pursuits and who were willing to get their hands dirty. She was proud of the fact that their time for assembling the pontoon bridge had now equaled the record set by the best of the equivalent male battalions.

Word of this unique experiment, which had been held in as remote a spot as could be arranged, had quickly spread and had now reached the highest echelons of the Nazi Party.

Elsa was too shocked to see her Führer standing in front of her, flanked by several of the other party heavyweights known to her only through photographs or the newsreels, to feel embarrassed. Her girls had spent most of the previous two gloriously warm weeks topless in emulation of their male colleagues, and it had never occurred to her to seek out her vest before racing up the hill in response to the order from the driver. Elsa had developed the view that if a man could freely strip to the waist in certain situations then a woman had the same right to bare herself; ignoring, in her innocence, the differing functions and attributes of the male and female chest.

She could have easily been considered as the perfect poster-girl for German youth. Her long flaxen hair was tied up into two elaborate ponytails which stood out to either side of her head making her appear perhaps younger than her true age. She had a high, intelligent, forehead and pronounced cheekbones; her face and nose now tanned and dusted with freckles. Piercing blue eyes and straight teeth behind generous lips, now somewhat blue with cold, completed the picture. She was still wet and dripping from the stream, her shorts plastered to her belly. They were typically stout Bavarian shorts, the cuffs neatly folded up to the level of her crotch, and somewhat torn and soiled from the work of the previous few weeks. If truth be known, Elsa had not changed them since arriving in camp; regular drenchings, she assumed, would keep them clean enough, and domestic engineering had never been one of her strong points. Beneath them she had omitted to wear any undergarment for simple lack of an adequate supply. What few bits of underwear Elsa had brought to camp with her had been victims of a sudden Alpine sirocco the previous day whilst hanging out to dry, and like hundreds of other pairs of drawers, knickers, vests, bust-bodices and other unmentionables were by then halfway to Stuttgart.

As a result, the outline of Elsa's crotch could be clearly discerned as she stood stiffly to attention: its form and shape made abundantly clear by the clinging effect of her recent watery work. Those among Hitler's entourage with an interest in such things could discern that Elsa possessed generous labia and this feature of her delightful anatomy, together with the inviting crease between her thighs into which some of the material of her shorts had been sucked, made for a striking view. But it was her bosom which seemed to attract the most attention, her Teutonic Tits broadcasting a sexuality perhaps yet beyond her ken.

Elsa was panting both from her earlier exertions and the run up the hill, and her breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing, swelling proudly. They were full and high, tanned and gleaming, although she was still innocent enough not to realize the full effect they were having on her audience. Droplets of water zigzagged down her chest and dripped from her neat nipples. Her areolas were small and round and smooth and were colored pale brown, but both teats had stiffened in response to the temperature of the stream and stood out provocatively from the slightly raised surface behind them. Her nipples themselves were, unsurprisingly for one her age, small and unchewed. Her bosom was a perfect fit for her build. On a slimmer female her breasts might have been considered large, but her chest and shoulders were broad enough to amply anchor the twin globes and give them a sense of proportion. The skin of her bosom, so recently tanned, had become goose-bumped from the cold water, but before the eyes of the party quickly regained its normal smooth luster as the sun warmed Elsa's adolescent body.

Her waist was not overly slim while her hips suggested a strength within her torso and would one day, no doubt, prove an asset when the girl gave birth. Her deeply set navel and a goodly amount of the smooth, taut skin below it was exposed as the waistband of her shorts sagged.

Her limbs were straight and slim, and her shoulders, also dusted with freckles and somewhat bruised from hauling logs about, were broad for a female but did not diminish from her attractiveness, while her thighs were muscular, shapely and long, and those fortunate enough to be standing off to one side of her were rewarded with the sight of her well-rounded derriere.

A female of another race might have been denounced as being decadent for daring to appear before the German Chancellor in such an undressed condition, but Hitler immediately saw Elsa for what she was.

"This, gentlemen," Hitler announced to the small gathering, "standing before you proudly and unashamed, is the perfect example of Aryan womanhood, and a sure guarantee for the continuation of the Thousand-Year Reich."

Baldur von Schirach, leader of the Hitler Youth, and a member of Hitler's entourage for the day, could only nod in agreement. 'Fuck, this is as fine a set of titties as I've set eyes on in a long time,' he thought as he devoured the sight of Elsa's bosom, while the Deputy Führer, Rudolf Hess, was more eloquent in openly praising the girl: "This is the future of Germany," he intoned. "A country of beauty and culture, where a female can stand before even a male audience such as this and have no fear of rape or abuse or hint of impure thought, no matter how inadequate her dress. She might as well be naked for it would make no difference to the admiration in which we hold her." Hess, like most of the Nazi hierarchy, much preferred his females to be stark naked.

Elsa wondered if this was her cue to shed her shorts, something she was quite prepared to do under the circumstances, but decided to remain motionless until explicitly ordered to strip, if that be her fate. She was less intimidated by the rank of the assembled party officials than might have been expected, but would have done anything asked of her.

Instead of being parted from her shorts, Hitler himself addressed the half-naked Mӓdchen. "My aide informs me that you alone are responsible for this display of Aryan prowess."

Elsa stood tongue-tied before the German Chancellor, thinking for a moment that it was her body rather than the activities down in the valley behind her that was the subject of the remark until another member of Hitler's party replied for her: "I can attest to her determination in proving that young women are just as capable at the military arts as young men. While she enlisted my advice in formulating her campaign to bring this event into reality, the credit belongs to her alone."

"You should be proud of your daughter, Herr Wittmann," Hitler said to the speaker.

"Good afternoon, Elsa dear," Christian Wittmann said formally to his topless daughter while Elsa made an effort to produce a small bow whilst remaining at attention and replied: "Good afternoon papa."

'Is this delight truly my own daughter?' Christian Wittmann thought as he continued to stare at the near naked girl standing beside the Führer, whilst making a determined effort in the process not to gaze exclusively at her breasts. 'The lass has certainly developed since I last set eyes on that pair of beauties.'

After studying law at the University of Bonn, Christian Wittmann had, by personal invitation, joined the Schutzstaffeln, originally Hitler's personal bodyguard, in 1931, claiming later, like many others, only because it was a means to more rapidly expand his circle of influential friends and further his career. Membership of the party quickly brought him considerable social advantages however, although he was less enthusiastic about the militarism and route-marches which filled his spare weekends and was saved from embarrassment after being secretly recruited to join the rival SD, the German Security Force, by cashiered naval officer, and deputy to Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS, Reinhard Heydrich, and given an honorary assignment which involved spying on party dignitaries in Berlin during 1933. Wittmann's rise through the ranks was always aided by Heydrich and was to prove both rapid and profitable.

If seeing his daughter half-naked was a shock to Herr Wittmann he hid it well as Hitler praised her and her kind in a long and repetitive speech, the length of which did awful things to his timetable for the rest of the day. The Führer could warm to youngsters in a way he seldom had a talent for with older individuals and playfully he lifted Elsa's face with a finger under her chin while the rest of the party chuckled their delight.

Heinrich Hoffmann, Hitler's private photographer who had, a decade before, introduced his assistant, a certain Eva Braun, to the Führer, stepped forward and recorded the moment for prosperity. It was not a photograph which would find its way onto the pages of the popular press in the name of propaganda however for obvious reasons, but the guilt-framed original was known to have decorated a mantelpiece at Hitler's Alpine retreat at Berchtesgaden before it was presumably looted by American troops in May 1945. Similar sensibilities kept the movie footage taken simultaneously by the Reich Propaganda Office camera team accompanying the visit, from general release, but it made the rounds of many a party meeting in the next few happy years. Hugo Jaeger, another photographer who often recorded the Führer's various functions but who was not present on this occasion, would forever curse Hoffmann for getting this particular shot and not him. But then, Hoffmann was one of Hitler's intimates, while Jaeger always remained on the periphery.

Even Elsa had been somewhat taken aback by the ease with which nudity had been introduced into their camping activities that year. Some of the girls, including Elsa herself, had spontaneously stripped off their tops at the first hint of warmth, but by the end of the first week few of the campers were bothering to cover their adolescent bosoms, or finding anything embarrassing about sharing the open-air latrines, which they had cheerfully dug on their first day in camp. There was a muddy place near their camp where most evenings Elsa and her friend Greta Müller entertained an enthusiastic and all-female audience with bouts of naked mud-wrestling, while the girls all did their morning ablutions before dressing, happily and innocently enough. The size and range of bosoms so exposed was wide, with many sets rivaling Elsa's near-perfect pair in quality. Many of the young women naturally enough sported smaller examples, but even Elsa had to admit that apple sized tits had their advantages, especially for an active girl. She had long discovered that breasts were prone to bouncing, and while binding and a tight bodice could restrict the movement somewhat, she much preferred the feeling of freedom an untrammeled pair gave her and accepted the inevitable aches after a day spent with her twin globes happily swinging about on her chest. She wished that the camp would never end.

In fact perverted showing of the female form was actively discouraged at the camp. One girl, for example, had taken to tying the bottom of her white uniform blouse up under her bosom, in the process exposing her midriff and pronouncing her large and impressive enough milky-white breasts. Elsa, in her role as moderator of dress-standards, had taken the girl aside and encouraged her to undress completely rather than titillate with her sexually charged way of attire. "The Germanic girl has no need of such tactics," she had declared. The fact that Elsa herself was unashamedly topless, her own magnificent breasts proudly on display, only served to emphasize her point and the girl gladly shed her own clothing to follow her example with no stain on her party record.

Another camper who came close to rivaling Elsa was Elspeth Strasser, whose distant uncle, Gregor Strasser, had taken on the position of propaganda chief of the Party back in 1926 before being ousted by the rising star Joseph Goebbels, who denounced him as being more of a mere socialist than a true Nazi. Elspeth only discovered the joys of going topless while at the camp but quickly became a firm convert and exponent of showing off her bosom. And she had a fine pair of breasts to expose, which were remembered by many for their quality.

While most of the adult instructors were quite content to remain covered up, although happy enough to observe the display put on for them, a few of them too took the opportunity of airing their assets, but overall this overabundance of female flesh was in no way sexual. It was free and impromptu and almost innocent. Even when the entire female form was on display, as it was on many occasions such as when the girls showered en-mass in the makeshift facilities offered, there remained an almost childlike atmosphere among the happy campers with their pigtails and plats, and nobody seemed more at ease when naked than Elsa Wittmann.

Fellow campers commented favorably on Elsa's fine physique and her natural beauty and athleticism, and Elsa would have cheerfully spent the rest of her life out in the glorious German countryside nude and free. To have ended the camp both with a record-breaking attempt at bridge-building and with an audience with the Führer himself, caused her a strange wet feeling between her thighs, which gave her a warm glow, which quickly spread to her cheeks.

Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice her late burst of blushing.

Eventually, Hitler's aides managed to bring to an end the impromptu, if distracting, interruption to the days' itinerary, by which time the warm sun had dried most of the moisture on Elsa's delectable body leaving her pink and glowing. Hitler gave the girl a final pinch on the cheek, jerking his right knee up and inward as he often did when amused or especially pleased, before being escorted back to his waiting entourage. Elsa remained at attention as the motorcade accelerated past her, coating her with a fine layer of white dust. She could hardly credit what had just transpired. Most German girls of her age dreamt of such a meeting, although these fantasies rarely involved being bare-breasted, and Elsa found herself, after returning to her unit, forced to give a blow by blow account of her experience to her equally excited companions.

"That girl, Darlung, has a bright future in front of her," Hitler commented to his aide as the dusty black Mercedes sped off.

The major grinned enigmatically in agreement, pleased that he had managed to please and distract his boss for an hour or so, before turning his attention to their interrupted schedule, unaware of what forces he had just unleashed.

'Fuck, I need a wank,' Hitler thought, concealing an erection with difficulty with his coat.

It wasn't often that Adolf Hitler could have been said to have had his head turned, least of all by a woman, but Elsa Wittmann had somehow made more of an impression on the German Chancellor than she could have imagined.

Rather than turn his mind towards devising stratagems to win him power or put together stirring words to rally his people with, as was his current need, Hitler found himself recalling every detail of the young, topless maiden he had unexpectedly encountered that afternoon, and it was not to be long before Führer and maiden were destined to meet again..