Spandau The Secret Diaries [antikvár]

The First Year An American soldier in white helmet and white shoulder straps leads me down the basement corridors to a small elevator. Together, we ride up. A few steps dovm another corridor, a door opens, and I am standing on a small platform in the Nuremberg courtroom. A guard hands me earphones. In a daze, 1 hurry to put them on. Then 1 hear the judge's voice, sounding curiously impersonal and abstract through the mechanical medium: "Albert Speer, to twenty years' imprisonment." I am aware of the eight judges looking down upon me, of the prosecutors, the defense attorneys, the correspondents, and spectators. But all that I really see are the dilated, shocked eyes of my lawyer. Dr. Hans Flachsner. Perhaps my heart stands still for a moment. Barely conscious of what I am doing, I bow silently to the judges. Then 1 am led through unfamiliar, dimly lit comdors to my cell. All this while the soldier to whom 1 am handcuffed has not said a word. Shortly afterwards, an American lieutenant roughly orders me to take my bedding, table, and my few possessions to a new ceil in one of the upper tiers. On the narrow, winding iron staircase 1 meet Hess, who is also lugging his table. "What did you get, Herr Hess?" I asL