Two soldiers always flank the door of a certain large but unpretentious mansion on the famed Wilhelmstrasse. Changed every few hours, they stand while on duty absolutely motionless, eyes front, shouldering heavy service rifles which are never seen to move, to tremble. Early one morning last week these soldier automatons turned suddenly as though on pivots, snapped to salute, and again became motionless as President Paul von Hindenburg, 81, strode forth with a Feldmarschall's tread, passed down the Wilhelmstrasse into the Taubenstrasse and entered a reeking, beery saloon.
There, in a corner decked...
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