By BERRY CRAIG
Holed up in his quarters and protected by armed guards, the leader refuses to admit inevitable defeat.
He inhabits a bizarre fantasy world, his mood swinging wildly between cold fury and deep despondency. Lickspittles rush to soothe the leader. The toadies coo their undying loyalty. They assure him that despite the seemingly insurmountable odds against him, he will persevere.
In 1945, Adolf Hitler and his inner circle so spent the last days of World War II inside in the underground Führerbunker in Berlin, the Nazi capital. Above ground, unstoppable Soviet troops had pierced the city’s heart and were closing in on Hitler’s lair. They were wiping out what was left of his army in Berlin, which Anglo-American bombers had already blasted to dusty rubble.