I was working in Flensburg, where I had a friend, an Englishman who had written at the theater there in 1946, Charles Jackson Andrew. He was to introduce me as the only Nazi still alive in Germany. Because I was the only one who would admit to having worn a brown shirt. Everybody else insisted they were never there. So I must have been all alone at all those lovely rallies. When you see or hear those on a German newsreel that's my voice. All that shouting down there, that's me. Well, it must be...