General Gehlen had been a faithful servant of the Third Reich until being bailed out by the Americans, who had decided to exploit the talents of this anti-Communist specialist. There were many former Nazis in Gehlen's entourage, and there is no doubt that his intelligence network came to the aid of many people who found themselves in trouble with the law due to their past associations. Urged by his friends in Gehlen's organisation, Lorrain was never reluctant to help with such matters, and intervened several times in favour of former Nazis - a fact that was recognised much later during his trial.
As the prefect of a region that included a prison where many former Nazis and collaborators were incarcerated, Lorrain managed to obtain parole or transfer to a psychiatric hospital for many of them. This is how he later explained his actions, during his trial: ‘By releasing prisoners, and I also released convicted criminals, I put back into society men who would be nothing today, were it not for me.' Ironically, it is these actions that lost it for him!
Jean-Marc Theolleyre70
However, included in the number of convicts who received preferential treatment by the accused, either directly or indirectly, it is interesting to find people such as Knochen, the senior SS commander in Paris. It is no less surprising to find a letter addressed to him [Lorrain] from Germany, dated 24 May 1956, from a woman who was also interested in the rehabilitation of former Nazis in France. She wrote, ‘the SS men to whom I have spoken of your actions, have asked me to express to you their admiration’. ‘What does that mean?’ asked the judge.The accused replied that ‘it simply proves I acted selflessly, freely and without fear of anyone’.
Lorrain's actions in favour of former Nazis, behaviour that he undertook at Gehlen's request, eventually attracted attention to himself. What is more, he was now obliged to accept that the Soviets were not the only ones who knew about his traitorous past: Gehlen must also have known about his pedigree. Lorrain was therefore the victim of a form of double blackmail.
In Paris, people were shocked to discover that a former resistance member, who had been repeatedly honoured and decorated, had maintained such good relations with former Nazis and collaborators. What were these acquaintances hiding? A discreet investigation was required and the DST, the agency that Lorrain had ambitions of leading, was charged with the undertaking.
They began by secretly monitoring him: phone taps, tails, the usual game. It was not long before there was confirmation that Lorrain regularly met with others with a questionable past. Secondly, and this was a surprise, the ‘prefect' was not adverse to getting his hands dirty and even indulged in some occasional arms trafficking!
What is more, the proof had now been provided that Lorrain was actually in contact with foreign agents, in particular British and American. Even if this has never been formally proved, Lorrain must have done so at the urging of his Soviet employers so as to create some form of protection: by being in close contact with individuals who were known to be part of western intelligence agencies, who would have suspected that in reality he was actually working for the KGB?
However, despite this early investigation, Lorrain was still not completely unmasked.
Most importantly, his Soviet ties had not yet been formally identified, although it had been discovered that he had met with diplomats who were known to be KGB agents.
But the evidence was still lacking. The investigation was closely monitored, especially in the top ranks, and it was still hard to believe that a prefect had been accused of such actions - and a former deportee to boot!
While waiting for permission to proceed further, the DST investigators were still interested in Lorrain's past history, guessing that there must be a flaw there somewhere. They made a very troubling discovery upon finding that his administrative records themselves were seriously flawed, particularly when it came to the war years and the time before his deportation. They had found what they were looking for: perhaps Lorrain was not the heroic resistance fighter that he claimed to have been.
Further investigations made more progress. At the Justice Ministry, the notes from the investigation made into him after the war were unearthed, and by gradually matching these with other pieces of information the truth finally emerged: Lorrain had been a Gestapo agent! The DST had permission to arrest him as soon as they had proof of his collaboration and it reminded some DST officers of a previous case.
Georges Paques,71 a top-level French official who worked at NATO, was also accused of spying for the Soviets and was arrested in August 1963. At the time, any diplomat who was thought could possibly be a KGB agent was put under surveillance. Two days after Paque's arrest, one of these Soviet agents went to Lorrain's home during the night, without taking the precaution of changing cars several times. He later emerged carrying a package. Nothing further happened at the time, as it was thought that Lorrain could not possibly be one of those who could be suspected of espionage.
However, in 1968, in light of what had been discovered about Lorrain's past, the tale took on another dimension. The decision to arrest Lorrain was taken, but the Interior Minister demanded that extra precautions be taken and that a doctor be present at the DST headquarters. After all, Lorrain had been deported and was a pensioner as well as a war veteran.
After being driven to rue des Saussaies, Lorrain initially acted outraged before resorting to threats. He pointed out his high-level contacts and suggested that he could equally expose dozens of people in Paris, which is already a confession in itself.Very soon after these outbursts, Lorrain sat down - right at the moment when it was revealed what was known about his past. He did not deny being a KGB agent and reiterated that as the Soviets were in possession of his Gestapo file, he had no option but to work for them.
He of course tried to minimise the importance of his collaboration. In sum, he said, he would have been happy to supply bits of biographical information on certain politicians, but nothing of any real importance. He was obviously lying. Yet the DST was never able to find out the truth due to the strange intervention of a clergyman: a man who was not only a form of moral authority in the world of the Resistance, but who had also been with Lorrain during his deportation.
With the endorsement of the highest state authorities, the cleric was able to meet with Lorrain while he was in custody. From this moment onwards, Lorrain had nothing further to say. But what was his real secret?
It is likely that Lorrain had access to records of men who, like him, had had their weaknesses during the war and with his Soviet friends, and with Gehlen's help, he had accumulated enough ammunition. This would account for the threats he issued upon his arrest: there would be dozens of people in Paris who would tremble if he fell! The priest who had intervened had convinced Lorrain to be quiet: probably to save the honour of the Resistance and to save him from the mud of further investigations. He no doubt assured him that it would be better to be free and that the case would be resolved to his advantage, sooner or later.
Lorrain was tried quickly and sent prison for espionage, although he was shortly afterwards released on medical grounds. He was later pardoned after the election of Georges Pompidou, handed back his medals and promptly retired. In his memoirs, Jean Rochet, the head of the counterintelligence agency at the time, referred to the priest's visit to Lorrain whilst he was in DST custody. He was particularly surprised when the Interior Minister, who had congratulated him the day before, afterwards rang and gave him a real thrashing! Almost as if he were being accused of arresting a guilty man!
Jean Rochet72
I was entitled to an avalanche of harsh criticism: in his eyes, the investigation was incomplete. The questioning had not been pushed to the limit and now everything had to be taken over by those who had led the initial hearings. I was shocked to find myself before such a turnaround. What had happened in those few hours to warrant such a change in attitude? Was it the chancellery, who were less than proud at having buried Lorrain’s occupation file and were now desperate to avoid a public shaming? Had they managed t
o persuade him?Was it the Foreign Office who wanted to avoid any diplomatic complications? Or was it reasonable to think that it had been outside pressures placed on the minister, not necessarily personal ones, but more related to the organisation to which he belonged?There is a well know rule in politics, ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’, which has, on various occasions, been successful in blocking the true course of justice.
Chapter 13
Frauenknecht: The Mirage thief
The man is small. He has a round, smiling face and is dressed in ordinary clothes. Just an average man.Yet this is the key figure in an important espionage scandal; one that is very close to France and its interests. We only know the basic outline of the story and there are still many mysteries concealed within it.
This is the official version: In the early morning of Saturday, 20 September 1969, Hans Rotzinger, the deputy of the Basel canton and director of an import-export company, made a random inspection of one of his warehouses, near the German border. Upon his arrival he saw one of his German employees, Hans Strecker, sat outside the building in his Mercedes 220. His presence there is not really surprising, although he definitely seemed shocked when he saw his boss. Intrigued, Rotzinger began to inspect the warehouse. He discovered a small box marked with the inscription ‘top secret', inside of which were several pieces of coloured paper containing sketches and plans, also marked ‘secret'. As a good Swiss citizen, Rotzinger immediately alerted the authorities.
A few days later, the Swiss federal prosecutor, Hans Walder, announced that a Swiss engineer called Alfred Frauenknecht had been arrested and charged with selling twenty boxes of plans for the Mirage III-S jet engine to the Israelis, for the total of 860,000 Swiss Francs. The magistrate solemnly declared that this was the biggest case of espionage that had taken place in Switzerland since the end of the Second World War.
In an agreement with the firm Dassault and Snecma, a Swiss company called Sulzer had the license to manufacture the Mirage. In order to prevent any leaks, the Swiss had to ensure that total secrecy was maintained and commit to draconian surveillance measures. Frauenknecht had occupied a very sensitive position in the company.
Four days after the story broke, Colonel Zvi Allon, the military attache at the Israeli embassy in Rome, but accredited in Bern also, was declared persona non grata and asked to leave Switzerland. In fact, Allon had taken the initiative and already left the country, while his predecessor, Nechemia Kai'n, who according to the Swiss authorities was also implicated in the affair, was recalled to Tel Aviv.
Frauenknecht was imprisoned and soon put on trial, but he denied any acts of treason. If he had delivered the plans to Israel, he said, it was only to help the Jewish State, which was being threatened by its Arab neighbours. Another case of espionage for idealism, it would seem. However, this explanation does not cover all the curiosities of this particular case.
Ever since the establishment of their state, the Israelis have been obsessed by the question of defence. France had often provided assistance with this, particularly when it came to providing nuclear weapons. After the Six Day War, when General de Gaulle deemed Israel to be the aggressor, the French president decided to place an arms embargo on the Jewish state, after several civilian aeroplanes had been destroyed during the bombing of Beirut airport. The famous ‘Vedettes de Cherbourg',73 the gunboats that the Israelis would later recover in the most dramatic fashion with the placid compliance of the French authorities, were stranded in France. The Gaullist embargo also included fifty Mirage V planes that had been ordered but would not now be delivered, as well as 100 Mirage F1s intended to thoroughly modernise the Israeli Air Force.
This embargo was not quite as catastrophic as it seems: the Israelis also had to option of procuring fighter aircraft from the USA, for example. However, it did teach them a lesson not to rely on a single supplier. Unfortunately, the world is not full of high-performance combat aircraft manufacturers, especially as there was no possibility of doing a deal with the Soviets. Consequently, they had to manufacture their own, which for a small state such as Israel, was a considerable effort, not just economically, but also technologically.
Israeli pilots had always considered the Mirage to be the best fighter aircraft. It was a machine they knew well and had even had experience using it in mock-combat against the MIG 21, the favoured aircraft of most Arab nations. They therefore wanted to create a double of the Mirage and quickly, as France was about to deliver a dozen or so Mirages to the Libyans. In the mean time, the French turned a blind eye when the gunboats in Cherbourg made their way to Israel, probably in exchange for a fabulous deal with Gaddafi.
Israel knew perfectly well that these Libyan Mirages could be made available to the Egyptians or the Syrians. Time was of the essence, but even though the Israelis had very good engineers, there were still significant technological barriers: it was not possible for a Mirage-type aircraft to be built in a few months. It was not just the knowledge of how to do it, but also the tools and equipment needed. In short, it would probably take years of work before the first aircraft could take to the skies. This is why the Israeli's did all they could to save time. Just as the Soviets had done when they wanted to build their first atomic bomb, they decided to steal the plans they needed. And as usual, they did so very proficiently.
As with other similar cases, an ‘official truth' was naturally provided. This version, which is of a rather romantic nature, assigned full responsibility to Alfred Frauenknecht, a Swiss aeronautical engineer and a vigilante hero.
This exemplary man, a Swiss citizen who lived quietly in Zurich above all suspicion, worked at the Sulzer company that manufactured Mirage planes under license for the Swiss Army. He had an important job, a good salary, and an excellent career ahead of him. His future seemed perfectly secure. Above all, Frauenknecht was a man with a heart: he could not support injustice. According to him, he believed that General de Gaulle's arms embargo on Israel was an example of this injustice. As a result of his work, he often met and could sympathise with his Israeli colleagues in Paris. All before the embargo, of course.
The Swiss decided to look for ways to help the Israelis. From his perspective, the most scandalous aspect was the fact that even the aircraft's spare parts were subject to the embargo. This meant that the Israeli Air Force were unable to maintain the planes they already owned, unless they reclaimed parts from other fighter aircraft and used those, which would only weaken its operational capabilities.
According to the official version, Frauenknecht was so revolted by the situation that he was determined to restore some semblance of fairness and soon resolved that the only solution was to steal the plans and give them to Israel. Not just the plans for the plane itself, but also those for the tools needed to manufacture the spare parts. It was a risky operation. After all, the plans were top secret and Sulzer were under contract to convey them to no one. Frauenknecht had to think of a particularly subtle ploy of seizing the documents and handing them over to the Israelis.
Eisenberg, Dan and Landau74
One evening when they [Frauenknecht and his Israeli colleagues] were dining together, the Swiss engineer noticed a strange tattoo on the forearm of one of his companions. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘It’s a souvenir from my forced stay in Dachau’, the Israeli replied.
Frauenknecht was embarrassed and confused. On his next trip to Germany he made a symbolic visit to the concentration camp’s memorial. The sudden embargo imposed by President de Gaulle in 1967 was a shock not only to the Israelis, but to Frauenknecht as well. He was better placed than anyone to know about Paris’ refusal to send vital spare parts for the Mirage planes, meaning the entire Israeli Air Force would be grounded during the protracted war.
Like many Swiss, Frauenknecht had received a rather strict upbringing. His moral principles meant that he was revolted by the cynicism with which the French had ‘stabbed Israel in the back at the precise moment when they needed help’, in the middle of a
war that threatened their existence. He also thought it unforgivable that de Gaulle had refused to deliver the fifty Mirage aircraft that Israel had already ordered and paid for.
The Swiss engineer decided that moral outrage alone was not enough: he, Alfred Frauenknecht, was going to do something to help the Jews. It was the most impressive decision he had ever made and once the plan was established, he proceeded to work with complete efficiency and inspiration.
One day, Frauenknecht asked for a meeting with his boss: he had found a new, bright idea of how to save the company money - something a boss always wants to hear! Frauenknecht spoke to him about the Mirage plans and in particular the reactors. He pointed out that the documents, which were stored in cases, were taking up too much space.The company was entirely committed to manufacturing the planes and even had to rent warehouses to store its equipment. Frauenknecht suggested microfilming the plans and burning the originals, thus saving the company time and money.
His boss immediately agreed. However, Frauenknecht, who had thought of everything, added that the burning of the original top secret documents should be done in controlled conditions. He advised his boss to approach a specialised company, who were under the control of the Swiss intelligence bureau: there would clearly be a very strict protocol surrounding the operation. Firstly, a single photograph would be taken of each document, which would take place in the presence of a military police officer and in an isolated room. The boxes would then be transported to the municipal incinerator, a fifteen-minute drive from the factory. Two armed guards would be on hand to monitor the loading and unloading.
Great Spies of the 20th Century Page 15