Original subtitles

I proclaim a new mission for this country.

It is built upon the command that once called German settlers

to flock here from all districts of the Old Reich:

Austria, the oldest Eastern March of the German people

shall, from this day forward, become the newest bulwark of the German nation

and thus, of the German Reich!

The Führer in liberated Vienna

Boys, would you look at that!

Good day! -Heil Hitler!

Heil Hitler, comrade! Good afternoon! -Heil Hitler!

Heil Hitler, comrade!

One bockwurst.

"Bock"? Maybe you mean knackwurst?

No, bock!

He probably wants a bratwurst, right, comrade?

No!

You know what? Have some bologna instead, it's fresh.

Ow, hot.

Please, just a wee smidge of patience.

"Wee smidge"? "Bologna"?

You Austrians crack me up!

Ostmark citizens, please! The Führer brought us home into the Reich.

What's so funny?

They told us we'd have to fight for every inch of ground.

As if! I've never been kissed this much in my life.

And I've never heard "Heil Hitler" as often as here!

What? What do they say in Berlin?

Well... "good day"?

G'day!

Good day!

Karli, the gentleman from Berlin would like some fresh bologna.

It's on me. Because he liberated us.

Oh yeah? What'd he liberate us from?

Man, if I only knew!

How come you're feeling so generous, Mr Schebesta?

Your glaziery business is going like my old pendulum clock.

And how is that going?

Not at all, usually.

No - weigh it, please.

What for? There's no charge.

Not because you liberated us, because I like you.

Thank you!

As for my glaziery-

You don't need to worry about that, Mr Bockerer.

A golden age lies ahead!

Hansi!

Go deliver the bologna to Madam Councillor!

You'll have to do it yourself!

What? I'll have to what? No I don't!

Hansi... you're with the SA?

Yes. I'm with the SA.

And have been for a while, just so you know.

And now I'm off to serve.

Heil Hitler!

Why did we have to start work in the afternoon?

Because Hitler's here.

What? Here at Café Tosca?

Idiot.

I have to talk to you.

Erich - there was a complaint yesterday because you played something Jewish.

Jewish? Me? Which piece?

"Orpheus in the Underworld."

How was he to know that Orpheus bloke was Jewish?

You stay out of this.

Erich. Next time you play a Jewish tune, just change it up a bit.

If anyone complains, you can say you Aryanised it.

Also: We don't serve French champagne anymore, got it?

Aw, pity! That was my favourite.

Idiot. Naturally, we'll serve the same watered-down grape piss as before-

but it's now called "Sparkling German Wine," got it?

Yes. And... everything else remains the same?

What else?

Well, you know...

Or do German women not do that, either?

My dear, not even our beloved Führer will change that.

Heil Hitler.

Heil Hitler, Mr Hatzinger!

Yes, uhm, same to you, Inspector!

Thursday - ah yes, Tarock game night at Bockerer's, huh?

Yes, why?

Still? Fourteen days post-liberation?

Why? Is Tarock forbidden now?

No orders to that effect, but one might question who you play with, Mr Hatzinger.

Heil Hitler!

Karli! Did you put the Führer's head in the window display yet?

What for? We've got the pig's head already, who needs the Führer's too?

That'll be Rosenblatt, let him in.

I don't think Rosenblatt will come to your game night today.

What's that supposed to mean?

You think he's too posh now he's a lawyer?

Well, nobody's forcing him!

He totally fleeced me last week, anyway. 4 schillings and 36 groschen!

Enough to buy myself a new Tarock partner!

You'll have to, anyway.

I'll have to what? No I don't!

Think of the Nuremberg Race Laws.

Oh, bother those. This is still Vienna, not Nuremberg.

Please, let Rosenblatt in.

A Jew? I will not.

Heil...! Uh. Hello, Karl.

-Oh, it's you. -Yes.

You're late!

-Rosenblatt isn't here yet, either. -Oh?

It might be smarter if he didn't come at all.

What? Smarter for whom?

For us. And for him.

Fucking Jews! -Die, Jews!

Jewish scum!

Congratulations, Mr Rosenblatt. You're the last in today's quota. How do you say that?

-The immigration quota. -Exactly. These poor people?

I'm sorry, folks. We open again tomorrow morning.

Look, Karl...

The Nuremberg Race Laws prohibit Aryans from relations with foreign elements.

Aha. And that's why Rosenblatt won't come to play cards with us?

That's why! That's precisely why.

Oh, come on now. What utter bollocks.

He's been playing cards with us every Thursday for five years

and all of a sudden he can't because we're foreign elements?

What's that mean, anyway? Since when am I an element?

You're not the foreign element, Rosenblatt is! He's a full Jew.

Yes, and the Nuremberg Laws protect us from his influence, you see?

I don't need any Nuremberg law to protect me from Rosenblatt!

He'll have to explain that law to me!

He's well-versed in criminal law - knows it in his sleep!

He can recite the corpus delicti backwards if he wants!

Nuremberg or no! Jew or no!

As long as Rosenblatt is an Aryan,

this foreign element will be honoured to have him beat me at Tarock!

Enchanté, Madam Binerl. Mr von Hatzinger. Hello, Mr Bockerer.

Hello, Doctor! Come in, sit down! I've shuffled already, let's start.

What's up with you two?

Can you read the sad news off my face?

What is it? What sad news?

Mr von Bockerer, tonight is the last time you will say to me:

"Your cards, Rosenblatt."

Because this is my last game of Tarock in this hospitable house.

Well, what did I say?

I know what you said, but - why, Doctor?

Because of this.

This, my esteemed friends, is an American visa.

It allows me to swap my beloved Austria, or shall I say the consolidated district of the Ostmark-

for the Land of the Free.

Then we'll drink to that.

Since you're here, Doctor-

I have a question about the proof of Aryan descent - hang on...

What's she want?

I think she said "proof of Aryan descent."

Oh, right?

Do you have yours, Hatzinger?

And you, Doctor?

I don't need one.

Why does Binerl need one?

The Nuremberg Laws, my dear friend.

Your ancestry is pure, Karli.

So I'm from Nuremberg now?

And so is Hansi's, of course. But look here, Doctor-

My maternal grandfather from Oberhollabrunn - you notice anything?

Vladimir Nepomuk Krycz.

If I'd known that your grandfather's name was Krycz....

Do be quiet, Karli. Here - next to the word "baptised"...

Hm. There's a question mark.

What, he's got a question mark as well?

What does that mean, Doctor?

It might mean was he baptised at all? Or was there a special reason not to baptise him?

You see, the old monarchy was a mix of all sorts of ethnicities-

In the past, people from the east settled here, gypsies-

-and not just gypsies: Kalmyk nomads, Hutsuls...

Right, so a Zulu kaffir from Oberhollabrunn.

Dear lord! I will not let them claim I'm descended from some African tribe!

Who knows whether that's even a question mark - what do you think, Mr Hatzinger?

Could be an 8 with a dot underneath. Perhaps he was 8 when he was baptised.

Or he was baptised 8 times, your super-Aryan negro.

I wouldn't give a damn, just like I wouldn't if he were a Jew.

Jesus! -Jesus was Jewish too.

Congratulations, Doctor, on not needing to prove your Aryan origin-

-while she's got a grandfather named Krycz! Here, take your bloody papers.

Let's play.

Your cards, Rosenblatt.

Since our Fanny joined that Maidens' Association-

It's called the League of German Girls, Mama.

Hideous. At any rate, she puts in more hours with those maidens than her job as our maid.

If your papa had lived to see this!

Times change.

The large ashtray is for the general.

I feel like you've changed as well, Sissi.

Me? Why?

My god, it's late! And your nice young beau is still not here with the bologna!

My nice young beau is not coming.

-Whyever not? -Like I said, times change, Mama.

Get a move on, you rabble!

Guess working doesn't come naturally to you haggling yids!

You had it coming, bloody Jews!

What's going on here?

The Jews defaced our beautiful Vienna.

Yes, and Vienna is a pearl, our Führer said!

So now they have to clean it up, our pearl.

That's as it should be! Bravo.

Hannes!

That one's slacking off. Make him fetch.

Move! Fetch it! Will you fetch?

Won't you fetch it? Come on, fetch and hold, there!

That's right, you dog, yes - and now...

Heel, doggie, heel, good doggie!

Come on, a bit faster, doggie! Yes, good doggie! Come on, heel!

Heel! That's it! What a good doggie we've got!

Hey, I know him! He's that actor from the Volkstheater!

He always did make me laugh. He's good!

-You like him? -Yes!

-You can go join him. -Me? What - why me?

-You seem suspect. -Why?

-What's in that package? -Nothing!

That is... my dead cat.

You're taking your dead cat for a walk?

No, I wanted to bury him in the park.

The Führer gifted that park to the people. It's not a cat cemetery.

-Goodbye. -Heil Hitler!

Heil Hitler.

That was top-notch, Hannes. Excellent work.

Right, we're done here!

All dirty Jews line up and head for the meat market!

-C'mon! -Why? They haven't finished cleaning!

This will be even more fun!

About face! March!

Move!

What's happened this time?

Thank god something's always happening now!

Not even the trams are running - because there's another stupid march.

You had better be careful with your opinions!

I'll state my opinions as I see fit! Hello, sir, are you sick?

-No, no... -Did someone hurt you? Come on.

-No one hurt me. -Can you get up?

Look at that - sympathising with Jews! I'm going to report you!

Inspector! Hello! Over here, quick!

-Should I get an ambulance, sir? -No, please don't!

What's this commotion?

Inspector, something happened to this gentleman.

Oh? What?

Nothing happened to me... nothing.

There you have it. So why are you causing a public nuisance?

What - me?

Disperse, please, or I'll have to arrest you.

Me...? But the gentleman...

What gentleman?

Thought so.

I must apologise, ladies and gentlemen - the butcher has let me down.

Well, the supply chain is always disrupted during grand eras.

You consider this a grand era, General?

Well, at least that's what the papers tell me, Baroness.

Grand does not necessarily mean pleasant.

I'd go so far as to say grandeur is never pleasant.

Hopefully that's the bologna at last!

Good afternoon, Miss Liserl - sorry, I mean Elisabeth.

No need to be formal, just because-

Mr Bockerer! How could you leave me hanging?

I'm sorry, madame, there was a march - I could barely get through.

It's fine, just give me it. Come, Sissi, help me.

-"Just because"? -Excuse me?

You said before, "just because...?"

Well... because it's over between Hans and me.

I see.

Well, I thought it might happen eventually.

A councillor's daughter and a butcher's son...

You're quite wrong, Mr Bockerer, if you think that ever bothered me.

Well... then why did you break up with him?

I didn't.

Now I understand even less.

You know what, Miss Elisabeth - I'd love it if we could have a chat sometime.

Maybe when I come again next week? At the café across the street?

Down, you fucking Jews!

Lick it up! All of it!

The little piggies' blood - not kosher, I'm afraid!

We'll serve you some matzoh with it next time!

Matzoh lovers - matzoh shitters! Fucking Jews!

Lick it up!

Told you - isn't this more fun?

It was a great idea, Hansi.

Seeing blood always gets me all...

You can rely on me. I've got excellent connections.

Mr Schebesta, I heard the Mosaic- the Israelites - that is, the Jews - that we can't get away.

Of course you and your wife will get away, and sooner than you think!

-And what do I have to do? -Nothing. Just...

Sell what you can.

Keep your money in an envelope, your jewellery in a box, close at hand.

Let Schebesta handle the rest.

Mr Schebesta, I don't know how to thank you.

Oh please. A bit of philantrophy goes without saying for such a faithful customer.

Heil Hitler!

Why hello there, Doctor - what's this, did you join the street-cleaning squad?

Me, as a Jew? Are you meshugga?

Then what do you need that stuff for?

Precautionary measure, Mr Bockerer.

No SA officer will demand that I scrub streets - they'll think I already am.

So this allows you to go anywhere?

Yes, but not for long, Mr Bockerer.

What? Why?

I've just been to the Belgian Consulate for a transit visa.

With your broom and bucket?

On the 25th, 8:13 pm, Westbahnhof station.

Time to say "farewell, beloved homeland mine."

Oh dear, you really want to leave, Doctor?

I must, Mr Bockerer. I must.

You must... well, I must be off, too, with my bologna.

Well then - goodbye, Doctor.

Best not. I know you mean it, even so.

A good day to you, Elisabeth.

-I'm a little late. -It's no problem.

I ran into an old friend.

Hansi was often late, too. Guess he takes after his father.

Well, you know - we Bockerers are a little slow.

Though he was fast with the Nazis.

What can I get you, sir?

-A cup of black coffee, please. -Certainly.

Did you know he was with the illegal Party?

He dropped these veiled hints sometimes.

I was stupid enough to think he meant another forbidden party.

I see.

You mean the socialists?

I would have preferred that.

Yes. Me too.

But he's with the others, unfortunately.

May I smoke?

Is that why you broke up?

We didn't have much time for political debates.

We cared very much-

I cared very much for him.

Blimey. If only I knew what got into that stupid boy.

I could smack him, grown-up or no.

I have to go home.

Good gracious, the bologna!

I've got something for you, too.

For me?

A new Hansi. Because yours flew away.

Oh - Miss Elisabeth, whyever would you-

Just think. The day after tomorrow.

The day after tomorrow? What's that?

Hurry up, mum, I have to be in position for the march at six!

Oh no! My pin!

You won't need it, everyone knows you're in the SS Women's Club!

Do you think your father will notice we've snuck out?

I don't give a fuck if he does.

-Goodness! -What now?

-The flowers. -What flowers?

The flowers I meant to give to the gauleiter!

He'll get plenty of flowers already, come on!

Binerl, get up!

Binerl? How come she's up already?

Right. Up we get.

Is she out? Binerl?

Not in the kitchen.

Binerl?

Where is she?

What's she got marked in the calendar? April 20?

What's that about?

There's something...

Good lord, I am an idiot.

My birthday! Oh, Binerl.

She got me flowers!

Well, Hansi, are you congratulating me?

Aw. That's what Elisabeth meant. The day after tomorrow, she said.

Hang on, Mr Bockerer!

-You're opening for business today? -Yes, why not?

On a public holiday?

Aw. You know, Inspector-

I'm really very moved that you'd say that, as a Party official.

It's my duty.

You know, holiday or not, to be quite honest-

Personally, I don't bother with it. So I'm opening.

You will have to bother.

With what?

Keeping your store closed. It's the law.

I'm sorry, I'm still waking up - did you say the law?

Don't get impertinent. After all, today is The Birthday!

And on my birthday, I'll do what I like!

-You can do that on yours, but- -But today's my birthday! Who else's would it be?

It's our Führer and Reich Chancellor's birthday!

And by official decree, all stores are to remain closed today!

A day like that ought to be marked in red in your calendar!

I see.

I thought it was my birthday she'd marked.

I advise you to celebrate this holiday appropriately!

The hell I will! If they ignore my birthday, I'll be only too happy to ignore Schicklgruber's!

-You know what you can do with your Führer? -You're lucky I don't!

And you're lucky I had my back turned just now-

-because if you'd said that to my face, I'd have to arrest you immediately!

Heil Hitler!

Are you the caretaker here?

No.

I'm a fool who thought he had a family!

Let's go, gentlemen!

Carefully, though, don't cause a commotion. Mr Blau lives on the second floor.

Yeah, yeah.

See, Hansi? The Führer's taking everything.

My boy, my wife - even my birthday.

Yes, a lovely birthday this is.

Just with my nearest and dearest.

Couldn't be any nearer.

Cheers, Karli.

I take it all back, Hansi!

That's why the boy and Binerl left so early - there's a birthday surprise!

Well? How do you like your birthday surprise?

Yes, I keep getting them today.

-Are you happy, Karli? -Ecstatic.

Congratulations!

Come on in.

You just have to sign this, please.

What is it?

Nothing. Just a statement that everything you leave behind is my property.

Why?

Well, you won't need it anymore.

It's all right, Leah.

After all, Mr Schebesta was so kind as to organise an escape for us.

We will escape, right?

Of course you will! Just sign.

Karli, a toast to the year of your birth.

-Wait, what year was it? -1889.

Nah. I'd rather not toast to that year.

What's your problem with my birth year?

It isn't yours alone.

It's... you-know-who's, too.

I've just about had it!

Now he's stealing my birth year too? What a tiresome meddler.

Shh, Karli, look - it so happens several Austrians were born that year.

In Vienna - in Braunau - and in Stinkenbrunn.

-In Stinkenbrunn, too? -Uh huh.

As if the one from Braunau's not enough.

He's driving the whole world insane! Everyone's lost their minds!

Suppose soon I'll lose mine, too.

Speaking of losing things... I'll be right back.

And now, the money and the jewellery, please.

But... why?

Well, you won't need that, either!

So, please-

I don't have anything.

What? Didn't I tell you to keep it ready, close at hand?

There's no money! And no jewellery!

Shut up, Jewish scum!

Please, be careful with my furniture, comrade.

See, Hatzinger, I'm only an ordinary butcher.

Respect, Karli.

But the one thing I've got is a nose.

'Course you've got a nose.

So let me tell you this...

When I drive out to the abattoir in the morning, you know-

When I get to Rennweg, which is still miles from any kind of butchering, I start-

-You start what? -At Rennweg, I start...

...to smell the blood.

And you know what, Hatzinger, we have all of us arrived at Rennweg.

Hang on, Karli... I don't quite follow.

I smell blood.

You said we'd go away.

So? Aren't you?

Where?

Perhaps to Davos.

Raise the flag! The ranks tightly closed!

The SA marches with calm, steady step.

Comrades shot by the Red Front and reactionaries-

"St. Stephen's gazes down" - hic...

"St. Stephen's gazes down upon the milling throng-"

"And smiling thinks the proud cathedral tall-"

"There lies Vienna on the Danube- my city of song, it shall never fall!"

Give it up, Karl. They're stronger!

No, only louder!

-'scuse me. -You looking for something?

Yes, the departure platform for the Arlberg Express.

You mean the Emigrant Express?

-Platform 1. -Thank you, gentlemen.

-Well I'll be... hello Hermann! -Fancy meeting you here, Karl.

-Best not, I'm a little dirty. -It's so good to see you, man!

It's been ages since we last saw each other!

Yes, there's a lot of folks who don't see each other anymore.

Oh, you mean...?

You won't be getting that from me, you know?

Hey, are you still going to that wine tavern, what's it called?

Pfeifer's? On Thursdays, usually, after 5 pm.

I'll join you, for a wine and a natter. But now I've got to run.

-Bye, Hermann! See you soon. -Take care, Karl.

Rosenblatt!

Dear Rosenblatt!

Good lord, Mr Bockerer - you came!

Yes, well, pure coincidence.

Yes, I understand.

God, Mr Bockerer, if we could share a bottle of wine and I could hear you say-

"Your cards, Rosenblatt!"

And you'd call trumps, and win, as usual.

"Arlberg Express departing from Platform 1."

I'm afraid this is goodbye. I...

I don't even know how to repay you.

Oh please, whatever for?

It may not look like anything, but... it's from the heart.

Rosenblatt! You better write!

-A relation? -What?

A Jew?

Bless you! What are you questioning me for?

Don't take the piss. You shouted-

What? Someone took your piss?

You shouted the name Rosenblatt.

So what?

The Jewish name Rosenblatt.

Well, it's a beautiful name, innit?

Even the Führer's got a friend named Rosenberg.

Blatt, Berg... what's the sodding difference?

Is "Berg" Aryan and "Blatt" Yiddish now?

Do you know "Mein Kampf" (My Struggle)?

Your what? I don't even know you, mate, why would I know about your struggles?

Quit your stupid jokes, naturally I mean the book the Führer wrote while imprisoned!

Oh yeah? He writes, too? I thought he was all talk.

What's your name?

Bockerer, Karl. And you?

Pfalzner, why?

Why? If you ask for my name, you've got to tell me yours!

And since we're at it - I'd never shout YOUR name!

"Pfalzner!" A name to break your teeth on!

It's been a delight.

Leave him. Leave him.

He's just an unbelievable idiot.

You've got to hand one thing to Mr Hitler, though-

Excellent organisational skills.

Oh, please.

Sending us the Bavarian Aid Train and handing out soup here-

-when we've still got more food than they do in Germany?

True.

Yes, well, but...

But, take that Labour Service idea, for example - that's a good initiative!

Gets the unemployed off the streets!

And the compulsory military service - rigorously enforced - that's impressive!

You sound as if you esteem that dreadful man.

Well, of course not, my dear, but-

-at least he put an end to those socialists, right?

Thank you.

What's going on in there?

I've let in those "Strength through Joy" morons, as a cover.

I think they're snooping around.

Every other minute, there's more SA men dropping in.

I'll definitely stay out here then.

It's for the best.

Stop dawdling, man, we're expected!

Oh, you're meeting someone?

I'd rather leave you to it, then.

Oh come, don't be silly, it's only Hermann!

Hermann?

You know what, it's too cold for me outside.

My rheumatism, you know. I'll sit inside.

-Sorry. -Fine, fine, go inside.

Hermann! Hello!

-Hermann, hello! -Hi there.

Three cheers to the Munich Agreement!

Hip, hip, hooray!

Just the company we needed, huh?

I'm glad you've come to realise we've got to take action now.

What action can you take when all the world does nothing?

Just look at those chumps, Daladier and Chamberlain, you know-

-entering that Munich Peace Agreement with the Germans and Italians before we've even had a war?

How do you act on that, huh?

If no one does anything, nothing will ever change.

Well, we didn't invite them here! They didn't need to come!

Grumbling won't help. Lots of folks grumble.

What can I do but grumble? My whole family's against me.

I'm all alone.

That's simply not true, Karl.

You're not alone.

There are hundreds like you. Thousands.

We've just got to join together.

Yeah, right. The world will end before the Viennese join for anything.

But it mustn't end, Karl.

We have to be able to sit here again, with a wine-

looking down at the Danube...

Without them breathing down our necks.

And we all have to risk something for that, every one of us.

You know?

Everything.

Our lives, if need be.

I see.

You know what I'll risk now?

Getting some wine. All this talk is thirsty work.

All the songs have God in them. Typical sentimental Viennese drivel, it does my head in!

Shall we give them a proper drinking song?

We'll need some beer for that.

They don't even have beer in this dump!

You can have the dregs if you want!

What d'you want?

The dregs are all you lot deserve!

C'mon, Hatzinger, sit outside with us.

No, please, Karl, let me sit in here. My rheumatism, it's so bad today!

Let's show these lame Austrians a proper song, shall we?

One, two, three, four-

Their idea of music could make your ears bleed.

Cheers, Karl.

Unbelievable stench in that coop!

"A place that stinks is a great place to call your own At least your dirty socks will feel at home!"

What's that bit of water down there?

Some kind of provincial puddle.

My dear Sir Reich Representative, that there's no puddle - it's a river.

You hear me? That's the Danube!

An Austrian river!

What tosh! It originates in the Black Forest - obviously a German river!

Look, what is it in Germany? A brook for little kids to dip their toes into.

But here? Here it's a river running through all corners of the world, innit?

From the national horse racing track to our swimming islands to Bratislava-

-all the way to Turkey and the Black Sea!

See? That is your "puddle" there!

"All corners of the world"?

Mark my words, my good man, all corners of the world will soon be ruled by one people!

Us!

Ever heard about the Eastward Thrust?

Oh, you're thrusting now? Didn't you just celebrate the Munich Peace Agreement? Meant to last a thousand years?

Stop poking me, Hermann, I know what I'm talking about!

They're keen to "thrust," mate!

And once they start thrusting, it'll hit anyone - east, west, it doesn't even matter!

He's right about one thing, this might hit anyone!

What kind of unpatriotic ideas are these, my man?

Perhaps you doubt the political genius of our Führer?

What a dirty swine!

Just you wait!

Hey! Here in Austria, we've got outhouses for that!

-What d'you want? -How dare you talk about the Führer like that!

Don't you touch me, scum, or I'll turn you into minced meat!

Help! We're under attack! Help! Help!

Help! They're attacking us!

Hands up! Hands up!

I'm from Berlin! This is a Communist attack!

Stop! Hands up!

Against the wall!

Don't worry, comrade, we've had our eyes on this rabble for a while!

Turn around!

Take the wounded inside.

I insist, these are Communist traitors!

You have to make an example of them!

We will start with a very detailed report.

You watch the red scum in the meantime.

You...?

You're... hitting your own father now?

I only did my duty.

Duty?

You... killer.

Killer!

And who was it that attacked you?

The one with the... wine.

The one who wouldn't stop talking!

We'll find out who he is.

That one knows him.

You know the man out there?

Uhm... barely.

And what's the name of this barely known acquaintance?

Karl.

Surname?

Bock...

Bockerer.

Papa - run!

Don't touch me! Let go!

-And him? -He's staying.

You're going to arrest your Uncle Hermann? Fine, then I'll stay too!

-We'll both be commuinst scum, got it, Mr SA?! -Shhh!

Fine, then, run - both of you! Quick!

Hermann, come on!

What happened?

They ran, the bastards.

How curious.

How could that happen to a first-rate officer like you?

Or did you happen to know them?

I don't know any communists!

But I assume you know your own father, right?

Who was the other one?

His name is Hermann.

Works for the railway.

There's my good sonny.

C'mon, let's have a drink.

What are you worried about, sonny?

That Hermann has been on our Wanted list for a while.

He may be in hiding now, but eventually we catch everyone.

Sit down.

-No, I'm leaving. -Oh?

Yes, I'm on duty.

And why are you still on duty?

Because I didn't report you for letting two suspects escape.

-I didn't... -Yes, you did.

Sit.

Two older men escape from you - you shoot and miss.

And you a trained sniper!

If I don't cover for you, you're going to prison, sonny.

So be smart and stay with me.

No, I'm leaving.

Your father will be pleased.

How d'you do.

You wanted to speak to me?

If we could please keep it short, I've got customers waiting.

Better start off with a proper greeting, then.

You what now?

Raise your right hand for the Hitler salute!

-That's impossible. -What?!

See, I'm afraid that's completely impossible. Here you go.

A doctor's note?

Yes, because I've got an internal haematoma in my right biceps.

See? That's as high as I can raise it, innit?

I can't even cut the meat in my store, never mind the Hitler salute.

-Nonsense! -I could do it with my left, look.

But what's that look like? "Heil Hitler," with my left?

You'd think I was taking the piss!

Do you even know where you are?

Well...

This is the Gestapo! Secret State Police!

The Gestapo! Sure, I know about that. You hear people talking about it.

Quietly, though. 'Cause it's all secret, like it says in the name.

Sit down.

You only speak when I ask you a question, got it?

Was that a question or not?

Who is the man who was with you at Pfeifer's wine tavern?

Well, there were lots of men there, you know?

Most of them were Krauts-

I mean, gentlemen from the Reich, new money from the old country-

I mean the man you sat with on the patio.

Right, uhm, that was...

Didn't actually know him, I'm afraid.

You sit with men you don't even know?

Look, that's the custom here in Vienna in the wine taverns, innit?

If you come to the vineyards, you'll be surprised how many strangers you end up drinking with.

Tall, dark and unknown, hm?

Well, he wasn't that tall, from what I remember.

We have methods of stimulating your memory-

-to the point where you'll suddenly be able to recall even the names of strangers.

You're not as blank a page to us as you believe, Mr Bockerer.

Does Westbahnhof station ring any bells?

You were seen there.

With a certain Mr Rosenblatt.

Oh, Rosenblatt! You know him too?

I happened to get a card from him today, from Paris!

He arrived safely, he says.

Do you still not know where you are, man?

This is the Gestapo!

Reporting all members of the Meidling underground resistance arrested, sir!

Excellent.

Now, as for you...

Mr Bockerer.

What's the Gestapo doing to my father?

Von Lamm will be interrogating him.

He knows what he's doing.

If anything happens to my father, I'll-

You'll what, sonny?

Nothing has to happen to him, you know.

That's up to you.

I happen to know von Lamm pretty well.

He's one of us, you understand.

I could have a word.

You'll stay, won't you?

Yes?

Who?

Ah, I see.

Yes, that's been dealt with, according to plan.

Yes, based on his testimony, it could be spun that way.

All right.

Bye.

Well, what to do with you?

Public nuisance, insulting party officials, Jew sympathizer, constant mockery-

It's Bockerer, not Mockery.

Do you know what Mr Goebbels calls people like you?

Sorry, who?

Dr Joseph Goebbels. Parasites, he calls you. Harmful vermin!

An infection in the healthy body of the people.

"Healthy body" - now I know! He's the one with the deformed foot!

We cure that sort of thing in our reeducation camps, or...

...we prevent it from procreating.

I've already procreated, unfortunately.

-My son, you know, he's- -I'm warning you, Bockerer!

If you can't manage to control yourself in future-

-we may find the Sterilisation Act applicable in your case.

What act?

A small procedure carried out on the genitals.

Severing the spermatic cord. With a small cut.

You're going to cut off my genitals?

A small cut, you say? You're going to circumcise me? Turn me into a proper Jew, will you?!

-Arrest him? -Get him out of here. Let the idiot go.

There are more important matters. Listen up.

A circular from SS headquarters.

"During the night of - insert date..."

"...the people's wrath will spontaneously erupt against Jewish shops, institutions and dwellings."

DIE, JEWS

FUCKING JEWS

Germans, strike back - don't buy from Jews!

DIE, JEWS

Your wife sends her best.

Thank you.

We can't keep hiding you for much longer, though.

We'll find a new hiding place for you.

All right, thanks.

In the yard!

Don't shoot!

No fat, please - it's not good for my dog.

As you wish, Doctor.

What exactly are you a Doctor of, by the way?

Philosophy, philology, and historical sociology.

Currently, I am writing a paper on the most important chapter of cultural history.

Are you really?

"How Jews and Freemasons Conspired to Murder Mozart"!

-Heil Hitler. -Heil Hitler!

Incredible, how things have changed.

That Doctor now lives in the apartment that used to be Mr and Mrs Blau's.

Where'd they go, anyway?

Probably emigrated, liked lots of folks do these days.

Where's Mr Bockerer, by the way?

Karli? He's gone to deposit some money with the bank.

Well, Ms Anna - sorry I haven't been in touch for a while.

You know, the Gestapo took me in for questioning.

To be perfectly frank, I was terrified.

For Hermann, too - you know he's got a history.

But he's doing well now?

He is now, yes.

He'll be at work, won't he?

He ain't working anymore.

He's not working anymore? Why's that, then?

What's...

"Death Certificate"?

Dachau concentration camp?

Sender: Commander's office.

"Work accident on the day of admission...?"

Court cashier...

"Invoice"?

"Death certificate: 12.50 reichsmarks"

"Cremation plus urn: 65.30"

"Cost of transport to Vienna..."

Save your breath, Mr Bockerer, I know it by heart.

"Total: 123.65 reichsmarks."

"Delivery to be arranged upon receipt of full amount listed above."

If I want Hermann's remains back.

And you have to pay for it?

If I had it, sure.

But I don't see how that's any of your business, Mr Bockerer.

Why do you keep calling me "Mr Bockerer," Ms Anna?

I just call you like they do in the report they sent.

"Fugitive identified by Mr Bockerer's testimony."

What are you saying? Surely you don't believe I'd testify against a friend?

Friend? There is no friendship left in this world.

Sure, of course - the Gestapo did question me!

But please, put that knife in my eye if I said so much as one word against him!

I don't understand why that report would say "Mr Bockerer's testimony"!

It's Hansi.

I don't want your money!

But I want Hermann to come home!

And it begins: The greatest military parade of the Third Reich!

"For 4.5 hours, troops of all branches of service parade past their Führer."

You become a part of it all.

You want to make a career of it. All of it is so new.

And that's why you didn't need me anymore?

Your soldier buddies were enough?

I... I don't even understand how I got drawn into it.

When you're with the SA... it's part of a tradition, sort of.

The question is, Hans, if you even want to leave.

Dammit, I do!

Lisl - help me.

Please, help me.

-My pop says there'll be a war. -Oh, what nonsense.

Our Führer says he guarantees our peace!

Well, and my pop says he can sense it in the leg he lost during the Great War.

Where's Hans?

I dunno, he'll be on duty, I suppose.

I know now what kind of duty that is.

Did you put the money in the bank?

No.

I needed it for something else.

Oh, would you look at that! He needed it for something else!

I don't even know where you're always off to recently!

Keeping a girlfriend, are we?

You're the only one I keep, and frankly I don't know how much longer I can stand it!

Well, isn't that just charming!

I want to know what you did with that money!

150 marks! That's 200 schillings!

Travel expenses, Binerl my dear - travel expenses!

For my friend Hermann, so he can come home to Vienna - in a bloody urn!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph - an urn? He's gone completely nuts.

I haven't, no! But everybody else has - all the world's gone crazy!

I want to know where Hans is - now, this minute!

Don't carry on so, Mr Bockerer!

I know where Hans is.

Where?

The SA officers spend most nights with us at Café Tosca.

Make sure the SA general gets whatever he wants - including bubbly.

Or you can go back to earning your keep on the streets.

What if he doesn't drink bubbly?

He doesn't have to drink it, just pay for it.

Don't look so stupid. Go and get ready.

They kick you out, darling?

It's your own fault, silly.

If two SA officers in a private booth get so worked up that they're not interested in girls-

-then we mustn't interrupt their cozy little tête-à-tête, must we?

Come join me, darlin', have a drink with me!

Interesting.

Sweet sonny wants to dump me.

Who helped you get ahead, huh?

The party.

The party! The party shits on you!

Top to bottom, till you're choking on it!

Got a new boyfriend, have you?

Or girlfriend?

Is that how you thank me for saving your father from the Gestapo?

Lovely.

Look...

Can't we talk about this like men?

I'd love to! You're the one who keeps whining like a girl!

"We've got to end it! It can't go on!"

Hello, uncle! Don't I know you from somewhere?

Dunno, maybe from the shop?

The shop? Pipsi, take his coat.

No thanks, I'm not staying long.

I'm looking for someone.

Whatever you're looking for, you'll find it here - curvy, skinny, vulgar, violent...?

No, none of that - I'm looking for a young man!

Café Tosca can accommodate that, too.

An SA officer.

That, too.

Pipsi! A bottle of bubbly for the gentleman! Please sit.

I'm not whatever you think I am - I'm a butcher!

Rest assured we can satisfy even a perverted butcher.

Go, then, you ungrateful bastard.

Fuck off.

But don't think for a minute that I'll forget this.

You'll think of me yet, sonny.

Papa, what are you doing here?

Don't "Papa" me!

Am I the father of a miscreant who stabbed my good friend in the back?

Me? Why would you think that?

Why would I think that? Why do you think I'm here? I've got a message for you.

Your Uncle Hermann sends his regards!

What's that got to do with me?

And anyway, you don't understand.

Oh, like that, is it? I don't understand?

Betraying a good friend so he ends up murdered in a concentration camp - I don't understand that?

A young lad who should be at work, running wild with this scum - I don't understand that?!

Abandoning a great girl for these trollops - I don't understand that?

Keep playing! Don't just sit there gawking!

How about knocking down your own father, huh?

Be glad I did! If I hadn't, they would've killed you too!

Killed me, would they? Of course! You're murderers! Murderers, the lot of you!

That's not true! Stop it.

What isn't true? Stop what?

Hermann's death is on your conscience alone!

I'll tell you one thing, though - if you ever enter my house again, I'll throw you out on the street!

What about your conscience, huh? Complaining, that's all you can do, but did you ever pay attention to me?

What? I didn't pay you enough attention? Who raised you, then?

Who always got you out of trouble? But let me tell you, the trouble you're in now - no one can get you out of that!

Check, please!

On September 1, 1939, Hitler announced his planned attack on Poland to the Reichstag.

The Second World War has begun.

"I have, therefore, resolved to speak to Poland in the same language that Poland for months past has used toward us."

Surely there'll be meat today, Doctor, to celebrate our victory.

Since the Führer gazed down upon now-German Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower-

you no longer need to worry about your meat, Miss Haberl - world history!

Oh well, world history!

But we should still be able to get a schnitzel!

I've collected food stamps for 200g of meat!

What a grand feeling it must have been for the Führer, standing up there!

Like veal goulash with dumplings.

Dear comrade, you are far too obsessed with fleshly interests!

Fleshly? How naughty of you, Doctor!

You misunderstand me - I myself, for example, don't eat meat at all!

What are you queueing for, then, if you don't eat meat?

Uh, for my dog. I'm a vegetarian, like him.

Your dog's a vegetarian?

Not my dog, the Führer!

You don't have a dog, Doctor.

Admittedly, yes, that's true, but economically speaking,

it would be a sin to let food stamps expire.

If the Führer announces meat, we must buy meat!

I hope so.

The Führer will take care of everything. Just leave it all to him.

Right, folks, I'm sorry, but it's another bust. We've got nothing today.

So what'd the Führer climb the Eiffel Tower for?

Maybe he was looking to see if some French butcher might have some sirloin tucked away.

But how are we supposed to celebrate his victory?

Look, ma'am, we've already used up all the Dutch and Norwegian meat-

and those crafty Gauls had the gall to eat their own, right?

Go have a look at the fish market, they might have some dried cod.

"For sale: Unused swastika flag, cheap"

Unused? Cheap? Why, I'll be...

But that's a scandal! A scandalous... sandal!

No snide comments, if you please!

What snide comments? Read this, Inspector!

"For sale: Unused swastika flag, cheap."

Who wrote this?

Who wrote that, Inspector? I did, why?

Is it spelled wrong?

I wasn't quite sure if you spell "swastika" with a "k" or "ck."

Not only did you fail to fly the flag, you're offering yours for sale?

Look, my dear Doctor, firstly, I am flying the required flag.

It's hanging out the back, from the bog window, seeing as I don't have an Eiffel Tower, innit?

Secondly, this new flag, which my wife bought, is far too big, see?

Oy, Binerl! What'd the new flag cost?

27 reichsmarks!

27 reichsmarks, Inspector, so why should I not sell the thing?

Because this is an icon, not a thing!

That's right!

And haggling over it is not permitted!

Quite right!

Oh really?

And the store that sold it to my wife? They're allowed to haggle over the whatsit, the-

-Icon! -Over the icon, huh?

They took 27 marks for it, but they won't accept returns!

Make the man fly the flag immediately.

I don't need your instructions on police procedure!

Quit posturing, Inspector, or I might recall all the parties you've been in.

First the monarchists, then the socialists, then the People's Party, then the nationalists, and now?

Well, I'm an idealist.

Yeah, well, you need idealism to get you through this madness.

When I get back, I want to see the new flag up!

Or you'll find out who you're dealing with!

I know that better than you think.

That's what you get for being pig-headed!

And for kicking out Hansi!

What are you on about?

Yes! The people are against you. Nobody will help you.

-But you'll help me, right, Binerl? -No, I'm going out and I'm not telling you where!

-Big deal, I know where you're going anyway. -No, that's not where I'm going!

Ah.

That stupid boy. He's back with that snooty councillor's daughter!

Oh, is he?

He's even moved in with that silly cow!

Is that right.

I'm going to the cinema to watch the battle for Paris in the Weekly Review.

Yes, yes.

All right...

Well.

Hold up, you piece of shit.

Karl!

What are you doing? I nearly tripped over this!

Yes, and you won't be the only one.

But you can't do this, Bockerer! The emblem, in the dirt, in the gutter!

What am I supposed to do? I did tell the Inspector it's far too big.

Should I drape it round my neck?

Well, got any ideas?

Wait, I have an idea.

Take the bottom. Take it! Pull it up!

Pull!

Please, Bockerer, don't do anything stupid!

Now, just before the final victory!

What's "final victory" even mean, Hatzinger? Their Munich Peace Agreement just got the war started!

And now that they're pushing this "final victory," it's about to get even worse!

Well, what do you think, Hatzinger?

But... but now it looks like-

This is outrageous!

Why? At least it's no longer dragging on the ground, right?

-Do you prefer this, Inspector? -Take it down! Now!

Up, down, up, down!

Ow!

German Weekly Review

Destination: Paris.

Our troops are in tireless pursuit of the retreating enemy.

The Palace of Versailles now flies the swastika flag.

Paris, the longed-for destination, has been reached.

The heart and soul of France are now subject to German order.

The Arc de Triomphe!

An announcement from the Wehrmacht High Command:

In a decisive push to leverage our Crimean victory-

-we continue to pursue our defeated enemies.

Sevastopol, the Crimean capitol, has been taken.

Yes?

Mr Bockerer, this was dropped off for you. Could you sign for it, please?

Thank you.

What is it?

My draft letter.

Gstettner's doing.

It's not easy to get decent tea these days.

Decency in general is in short supply.

Not to mention bologna, huh?

Sic transit gloria mundi. (Thus passes worldly glory.)

But we are winning, ladies and gentlemen!

We are?

Well, in a manner of speaking.

After all, we are sort of part of the Reich, in God's name.

Certainly not in God's name.

Well, uhm - so how is our dear Sissi doing?

I don't know.

I've barely seen her since she moved out.

Vienna, Ostbahnhof station, September 10, 1942

Let's not go to the platform yet - we still have time.

Delaying it won't make saying goodbye any easier, Lisl.

I want to make every minute count.

Come on, let's have a drink first, all right?

You'll have loads of fun in Russia.

Maybe, but I'm not looking forward to those partisan fighters.

Nonsense, they won't be around for much longer anyway!

Liquidation.

All suspicious elements in occupied territory - poof, gone.

Yes, but how?

It's very simple: Round them up, put them in an army truck (the more, the better)-

close the doors, turn on the engine.

And then?

While the engine's running, it'll pump exhaust gas into the hermetically sealed vehicle interior.

After 20 minutes, they're all dead, except maybe a few women. Those bitches are tough.

Solid German method.

They're calling it "relocation."

Because those morons think they'll be transported somewhere else.

Do you mind?

I'll get us some drinks.

This is where the logistics get complicated: Secure and distribute the clothing and valuables-

-deliver gold teeth etc. to the Ministry of Finance.

That's the tedious part, I'm afraid.

But otherwise, you'll have heaps of fun in Russia.

When does your train leave?

At 12:10.

12:10?

Papa, you…?

You leaving with those guys?

No.

I’m… not with them anymore.

I see.

You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you-

Never mind, Hansi, I know.

You know what you look like right now?

Like that time we walked home late at night from Aunt Anna's, through the cemetery.

When you nearly peed your pants with fear.

And you took my hand and led me home.

My hand is still here.

But…

Will you be able to lead me home this time?

Oh, son. Hansi, son…

What a coincidence – Mr Bockerer!

Ah, stop play-acting, lass. The name of this coincidence is Elisabeth Ebersen.

Not for long.

After my first leave, it’ll be Elisabeth Bockerer.

Let's have a toast to that.

Cheers.

-Your health, Hansi. -And yours.

How nice to see you again, sonny.

Especially like this.

I told you you'd think of me yet.

Freezing storms sweep across the land.

There's no visibility beyond a few metres.

Streets and runways are soon buried in snow.

Even so, all troop movements and transport operations need to be on schedule.

As the Führer stated, there hasn't been a winter this severe in central and eastern Europe in 140 years.

Our soldiers and our allies have been cruelly tested by Providence these past four months-

-to prove their true inner quality.

They have prevailed through these harsh trials.

Our artillery and tank forces have prepared the way.

The few remaining pockets of resistance will be quickly wiped out.

Oh, Elisabeth.

We'll be at the pub at the corner - come join us, won't you?

Good.

The priest held a lovely eulogy for our Hansi, didn't he?

He had better. We paid him well enough.

"In proud mourning." I liked that part best.

Yeah? I didn't care for it one bit.

Karli! "For Führer and fatherland!"

Well, where'd he lead him, our great leader, huh? To Stalingrad!

Hansi had no business being there, did he?

He defended the fatherland.

Against whom, pray tell?

Against the Russians, of course!

Oh, really! Do we own a garden plot in the Ural Mountains that the Russians have invaded?!

It's the other way round, my dear! The Russians are defending their fatherland!

Our fatherland is Austria!

And did we defend it against Hitler? Hell no, we let him in!

Can't you even let the poor boy have his hero's death?

Give me 10 groschen.

That's 10 pfennigs now, my dear.

Thanks.

Too bad we didn't go to Pfeifer's, out by the vineyards.

It'd be nicer there.

Well, I do know why we didn't.

Because that's where Hansi whacked you one with his baton.

What?

Hansi, whacking me with a baton? Are you nuts, Hatzinger?

Hansi would never! Beating his own father with a baton?

Don't get upset, Karl.

Ah, well. I know it's true.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter where we hold the peace negotiations.

Peace negotiations?

Well, eventually they'll have to make peace with each other, don't they?

Who?

Binerl and Lisl, of course - I mean, Elisabeth.

Binerl will tire of playing the evil mother-in-law eventually.

Shhh, she's coming back.

No, Karli, you're wrong, and I will tell you why.

-All right, tell me why I'm wrong. -Yes.

The Führer's not to blame for our Hansi's heroic death!

Who's to blame, then?

She is! That snooty councillor's daughter!

If she hadn't come back and thrown herself at him, our Hansi would still be with the SA!

Uh, Karl?

Let her talk, I'll say my piece after.

The SA wouldn't have deployed him, and certainly not to Stalingrad!

-Uhm... -Let her talk, I say!

Have you ever heard of an SA officer being sent off to die in battle, huh?

Are you done?

-Let me say something: -Yes?

Too late to say it now, Karl.

What?

The peace negotiations have failed.

Why on Earth are we sitting in the kitchen like the servants?

Because, my dear, it's the only room where the neighbours can't hear us.

Why, is that...? Oh, so what? In our neighbourhood almost everyone listens to British radio.

We have to be careful here, my dear. People are incredibly spiteful.

Breathe wrong and they'll report you.

What can I tell you - the von Arnsteins were listening to the BBC.

Then the doorbell rang, and it was that awful block warden with the police.

I hear they've developed equipment that lets them track anyone who listens to the BBC.

Why, that's terrible!

That's right, madame. Terrible.

And if they catch you, it'll cost your head.

This is the BBC presenting news in German.

Royal Air Force fighter-bombers flew sorties over Cologne, Düsseldorf and Berlin today.

Despite fierce resistance, all planes made contact with their intended targets.

Our tireless bombardments have forced the enemy to evacuate large numbers of the population to southern Germany and Austria.

Elisabeth! It’s you!

Could I...

Could we stay with you, Mama?

[Cologne-based regional gibberish]

Will you be quiet, Mr Heidenberg? I'm so sick of your Cologne puppet theatre!

Oh great, you woke my baby up again. Thanks a lot.

Every bloody night.

Karli, these poor people have been bombed out of their homes. You have to put them somewhere.

I don't, no.

They're your fellow Germans, including the tiny squaller.

I can't stand it anymore.

If you hadn't listened to Big Adolf's tirades, you wouldn't have to put up with the little one's.

But Karli, it has to end eventually.

On the contrary, this is only the beginning! They'll keep sending more and more of them!

They'll take over our flat like monkeys!

And where will we go once they start bombing Vienna?

You don't seriously think they'll attack Austria?

Ostmark, my dear, Ostmark!

Shhh, be quiet!

Where do you think we'll go when they attack us, huh?

To the Balkans, where the Russians lie in wait?

Or to Italy, where the Americans are waiting?

We're surrounded on all sides!

And we've got your Führer to thank for it!

And now I'm going to take a leak.

Lights out! Mandatory blackout!

Yeah, I know, I know.

It's like an obstacle course in here.

Occupied!

Right. Even my bog's in occupied territory.

'Scuse me.

And here's another one.

Evening.

My name is Knabe, Mr Bockerer.

Right. Do you live with me, too?

I can't be expected to know everyone they've assigned to my flat, unfortunately.

It may be unfortunate for you, but in my case... thank God.

Why?

Well, there aren't a lot of honest people these days.

Not sure what you mean by honest. You don't even know me, Mr-

-Knabe. -Mr Knabe.

You develop a nose for it, in camp.

In camp?

What camp were you in?

Oranienburg.

You learn pretty quickly to keep your mouth shut and your eyes peeled for allies.

So... what were you in for?

-Thinking out loud. -I see.

It can't go on like this, right? Something needs to be done.

So I thought, you can't do anything by yourself, right, so I talked to someone, and bam, they nabbed me.

Ah, yes. You know, the way you talk, Mr Knabe-

-it's just like listening to Hermann.

Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring?

Good lord, no, on the contrary.

C'mon, let's sit for a bit.

Right, so Hermann was a friend of mine, you know.

He was sent to Dachau. They killed him there.

Do you smoke? I used to smoke Memphis, but these days I have to roll my own.

Swell.

They do smell a bit, it's admittedly not great.

Not "smell," Mr Bockerer, I said you were swell.

Ah. The feeling's mutual.

You know, I always thought...

...you Prussians were to blame for all this misfortune.

And we blamed the Austrians.

Aw, come on now!

But Schicklgruber was born in Austria, wasn't he?

Well, true, but - we didn't make him Führer, did we?

You lot fell for his shtick. You gave him power.

No, no. That was the arms industry.

They needed a war and financed someone who would give them one.

Krupp, Thyssen.

Dutch oil moguls trading with the Nazis, Pétain and Laval, the French profiteers.

Unbelievable scandal! A disaster!

Who left this gate open?

Oh please, Mr Schebesta-

Do not attempt to plead with an official on duty!

We have a mandatory blackout!

A single beam of light could attract an enemy bomb squadron!

If an enemy bomb squadron takes a fancy to us, they'll come whether the gate is open or not.

Yes, agreed.

-Who's this? -That's Mr Knabe, an evacuee from Berlin.

Kids, this is excellent flying weather.

Seems like a defeatist. What was that about Krupp and Thyssen?

Can't you hear that?

I don't hear anything.

But now you hear it.

I'm sure it's just an air raid drill.

No, kids, I know that sound.

They're coming.

100,000 windows smashed, and there's no glass! (Schebesta Glaziery)

No glass! No glass to be had!

No glass! No glass!

100,000 windows smashed, and no glass to be had!

No glass!

Schebesta's finally cracked.

He should be committed.

No. 5 the next street over's been hit - everything's gone.

Around the corner?

Karli, what good mazel we had!

"Mazel" is Yiddish, dearest Binerl.

Wait, No. 5?

What is it?

That's Hatzinger's house!

-Is anyone missing from this house? -No, that's everyone.

Jesus Christ! Mr Hatzinger from the second floor!

Such a nice man! Always cheerful! And now...

Oh no! Such a kind, friendly man!

Mr Hatzinger?

That's Mrs Meinau from the lottery shop.

What a horrible, horrible thing to happen!

Miss Haberl! Are you injured?

No! But the impact knocked us out of bed!

Us?

Yes, I was in a business meeting with a gentleman.

Well, come on! Get out of there!

And we got knocked right out of bed! Right, sweetie?

-Yes, but we're fine. -"We're fine, we're fine!"

My nerves are shredded and my clothes are all burned!

What are you doing?

Taking notes! I'm a historian, I must document every stage of this...

...downfall.

-Downfall? -Yes.

Come with me. Come on!

Yes, certainly.

Did you see Hatzinger?

No.

He must still be inside!

Stop! No one's permitted to go up there!

Shove your permission up your arse! I need to get to the second floor!

You can't, it'll collapse any second!

I have to! My friend is up there!

The only friend I've got left! I have to get him out!

You might be killed!

Anyone could get killed these days! In Dachau, in Stalingrad - why not right here?!

Hatzinger! Hatzinger!

What exactly did you mean by "every stage of this downfall"?

We are currently going through a process of disintegration.

If you'll take this young lady as an example-

'Scuse me! I'm not disintegrating in the slightest. You might be, though, you vegetarian.

Excuse me, Inspector...

Hatzinger!

I'm a little confused.

I've been round the block three times and keep coming back to this pile of rubbish.

I can't find my house.

Oh, Mr Hatzinger!

Hatzinger!

-Karl! -Hello!

You're not hurt?

Careful, you're getting dirt all over me!

-Incredible! -Hey, Karl...

I found a pub where they still have wine.

And the Tarock game I had last night...

Superb, I tell you!

What did you say?

I played Tarock last night.

Call yourself a friend?

Yes.

I nearly had a heart attack looking for you and you've been out drinking all night?

And playing Tarock with strangers?!

Shame on you!

You should've been in bed!

Then he'd be dead!

So what?!

Better dead than playing Tarock with strangers!

Next time they can bomb all of Vienna for all I care, I'm never looking for you again!

The two of us are finished!

But Karli...!

What's up with him?

And then we faced the consequences for Mr Hitler's fight.

"My fight," he called it.

But it was our necks in the noose.

The Führer called Vienna a pearl and promised us the perfect setting for it.

Here's the result.

We could have saved ourselves the trek to Stalingrad and back.

Instead of us invading them, the Russians are now invading us.

You see them all over Vienna, everywhere.

Everywhere.

Apparently we've been "liberated" again.

And some who've held fast until now are finally starting to shake in their boots.

Karli, what is it? You're not getting sick, are you?

Now that we've finally got a new government?

Karli, listen!

A whole new proper Austrian government!

With President Renner! And all Austrians!

Karli, aren't you happy?

You always said your happiest day would be when-

Karli!

Karli!

FUCKING NAZI

-Hello! -Hello.

Come on.

Are you making your wonderful bologna yet?

I'm afraid not. My husband is very ill.

But how do you know about our bologna?

I used to know your son, Mrs Bockerer.

Really?

Oh well, pity.

I work for a French colonel now who's a bit of a gourmet. I promised him... well, never mind.

Au revoir!

That man seems familiar.

So what'd the doctor say?

What can he say? The fever isn't breaking.

Poor Karl. He was like a tree.

Like an oak in the Vienna Woods.

Survived Hitler, the war, the bombs...

-And now he's laid so low. -Yes.

The doctor said he's at the crisis.

But he gave him an injection of some newfangled drug.

Penis-cillin or something. Supposed to work fast.

It could knock the fever out in an hour, apparently.

Let's hope so.

Who was that?

Some loon. People keep getting crazier.

He seemed really familiar, too.

All right, I'll drop by again tomorrow.

I hope the Penis-wossname will help.

-Bye, Binerl. -See you.

Citizen, no need for formalities. Time is of the essence.

Do not be surprised, my simple Ostmark labourer: Your Führer lives!

He lives...?

Here I shall rest, like the great German Emperor Barbarossa slumbering under the mountain.

Here I shall await the German nation's true hour of victory!

You want to wait... in my flat?

I am determined to bide my time here for a hundred days!

A hundred days...

Your haggard German worker's visage shows me-

-that you suffer as much as I do under this shameless Jewish subjugation of the German people!

But victory shall be ours, with your help.

You want my help?

You, who poisoned my boy's mind until he attacked his own father?

And then you sent him to Stalingrad to die?

And what you did to Hermann? You got him murdered in Dachau!

I did not send Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring to Dachau!

Who's talking of that fat ugly grub?

I'm talking about my skinny Hermann, the railway worker!

I don't know your Hermann Railway Worker!

Of course you don't know him! You don't know a single one among the millions that you killed!

You mass murderer!

You should be hanged from the Eiffel Tower!

So all of Europe can see you - all the nations that you crushed into the dirt, you... you...

You vegetarian!

Himmler!

Arrest this traitor!

I'll throw you out! I'll throw you out of my flat!

Himmler!

Himmler! Himmler!

Himmler!

Himmler, where have you been! Everyone's abandoned me.

There he is.

I knew he had to be around here somewhere.

Your coat, my Führer.

Thank you.

I hereby promote you to field marshal.

Thank you.

There he is.

He was trying to hide in my flat.

Who?

Well, him - Hitler!

Oh, you mean Mr Schebesta?

He escaped from the asylum.

What..? That was... that was Schebesta?

Of course... Schebesta. I forgot he went crazy!

Mr Bockerer, you should go back to bed.

-Nah, I'm not going back to bed. -Why not?

People die in bed.

Oh, Mr Bockerer, not at your age!

Yeah, yeah. Serve and Protect.

Always, Mr Bockerer, always. You have to admit that.

Yeah, sure. No matter what government we have - once an inspector, always an inspector.

Good afternoon!

Excuse me.

We're looking for Mr. Bockerer.

He's sick.

Aha.

Well, uhm…

My name is von Zornbiegel. I’m doing a bit of work again-

volunteering, that is.

I’m with the Family Reunion Department.

We’ve got nothing to donate. At some point there's got to be an end to this constant alms-grubbing.

No – no, I'm not asking you for anything, on the contrary.

It's about this young man here.

His father was killed during the war, and his mother-

It was one of the final bomb drops on Vienna.

One of the many pointless deaths in this pointless war.

That's sad, but what's it got to do with us?

Well, perhaps a little bit.

May I introduce the young man to you?

His name is Bockerer.

Karl Bockerer. Named for his grandfather.

See what Grandpa can do?

Look...

So how's Karl doing now?

Great! Now that little Karli's living with us, he's no longer sick at all.

These go like this...

...and then we put on a roof.

I don't know what's going on, but that guy looks awfully familiar, too.

Jesus!

It's Rosenblatt!

-Enchanté, Madame Binerl!- Hello!

-Mr von Hatzinger. -Dr Rosenblatt!

Incorrect! Staff Sergeant Montgomery Royce, General Headquarters!

What'd he say?

Karli will be so happy!

Let's surprise him, all right? Please!

Doctor...

What's he doing?

He's gone bonkers.

Welcome, Mr Rosenblatt.

Mr Bockerer.

I knew I could rely on you, but this...

Thank God we don't need this anymore.

So let's make sure we'll really never need it again.

Isn't it Thursday?

Of course, you're right! It's Thursday!

Sit, Doctor! Stop it, Binerl, we've already got the cards out!

All right, Karli, time to cut your first deck!

Right, you just lift some off.

Just like that.

Very good.

Your cards, Rosenblatt.

[fin]