The Reichsbank Robbery

by Colin Roderick Fulton

  Schonewille had taken a dozen men (including the sergeant) and held one wing of their defensive position for a period of nearly ten hours until reinforcements arrived.

  The fighting had been bloody with much close combat. At one stage he had defended himself against three Russians whom he cut down with a machine pistol at a range of no more than ten metres. Slightly wounded by a shell splinter from a mortar round, he had nevertheless continued fighting and even went back several times to check on the status of the lieutenant and his troops guarding the other wing of their redoubt. By any estimate he had acquitted himself well.

  At the end of it all, he had a quiet discussion with the sergeant. The gist of the conversation was quite simple. If the sergeant would make a report saying how gallant he had been, Schonewille in turn would make a recommendation that the other be given a battlefield commission. With the lieutenant, there was no such bargain needed. The young soldier had been very impressed with Schonewille’s efforts and he spoke in glowing terms of his role in the action.

  Schonewille was duly awarded an Iron Cross second class and given the right to wear the Wehrmacht’s combat badge on his tunic. But from then on, Schonewille always made perfectly sure he never again put himself in such a hazardous position. At any rate the opportunity was never to eventuate as on 1 February 1942 he was transferred to the newly-formed SS Economic and Administrative Main Office where he always made certain he was recognised as an officer who had risked life and limb for the Fatherland. With this in mind he sometimes wore his uniform in the manner of a fighting soldier. One of these affectations was in the way he wore his service cap. To be fair, though, in this he was not alone.

  The SS officer’s headgear was a distinctive peaked cap with a field grey cover, black cap band bearing the Totenkopf and black leather visor. This was festooned with two silver cap-cords fastened with matt silver buttons. In standard issue the cap was fitted with a spring that made the top of the cap more rigid and gave it its distinctive upward sloping profile. Many front-line officers removed the spring so as to give the cap a softer, more jaunty shape. It also made it easier to wear. Of course, this was against regulations, but so many senior officers followed the practice that use of the cap spring was never enforced, except perhaps at SS headquarters or official functions. For his meeting with Heger that night, the SS major decided on the more official cap with its spring inside.

  It was dark when he left the house. Sophia did not see him off. He had not seen her since his bath following their love-making. There seemed nothing unusual in this for unless they were sleeping in the same bed, she always kept to herself for several hours after they had been intimate. To Schonewille, inexperienced with women, it was perfectly natural. To any other man it would have been cause for concern.

  For Sophia it was a time when she felt unclean, a time when she always took a bath and tried to erase the smell of sex from her body. In an effort to excuse what had happened she always told herself that she had given her body in order to survive. Yet she was never quite able to divorce herself from the feeling of safety and security when in the company of the SS officer. She knew what lengths he had gone to in his efforts to save her from the gas chambers and the risks he still ran in harbouring her despite her new identity and the papers to back it up. Yet equally she knew who and what he was. As a defensive mechanism she usually shut her mind to the essential evil behind the man. She also never planned ahead. She existed from day-to-day, tomorrow was too far off and too full of danger to be contemplated. Only when she was sure he had left did she venture down to the ground floor and have something to eat.

  Heger lived near Potsdam and it took Schonewille a good thirty minutes to reach the banker’s apartment, an undistinguished two-storey edifice set back a little way from the street. The ground floor apartment was quite large and comfortable, especially now when any accommodation was at a premium with much of Berlin’s residents without proper shelter, or living in sub-standard quarters.

  Heger greeted him at the door and effusively ushered him inside. He was still wearing the drab suit he had worn at their meeting earlier in the day. After a few minutes he took his jacket off revealing a threadbare cardigan and a white shirt with an old-fashioned detachable collar.

  They had just sat down when Frau Heger walked into the sitting room, necessitating Schonewille to rise and giver her a formal, stiff bow in greeting. As usual, she was nervous in his presence and to get over her awkwardness she busied herself with picking up his overcoat, which he had draped over a sofa, and taking it to the hallway where she hung it up. Returning, she gave Schonewille a small smile and offered him a drink. On inquiring what they had, Heger rather boastfully answered that they were well-stocked.

  “My dear Friedrich, I have some important friends in the Reich and in return for a few favours they have been able to supply me with all manners of luxury, even in these hard times. Remember the coffee?”

  The major nodded his head, but said nothing. I wonder how he is being used, he thought. He turned to Frau Heger.

  “Really, Alice, I would be perfectly happy with a beer. Do you have any? I am a little thirsty after my walk” His voice was warm and friendly.

  “Of course, Herr Sturmbannführer. Please sit down again and I will get it for you.”

  As usual she addressed him by his SS rank even though they had known one another for years and he always addressed her by her first name. She was a relatively tall woman with pretty though sharp features. In England her demeanour would be described as prim.

  Originally she had maintained a condescending attitude towards him, but as his power and influence increased so her manner softened and she managed to mask her dislike. This was not only because she feared him, but also because her husband owed much to Schonewille’s good graces and patronage.

  In turn, the Nazi was ambivalent about Alice Heger. She was everything he disliked in a female: shrewd rather than intelligent, with a truncated simplistic view of the world. She was a product of her class, a bourgeois housekeeper who looked down on everything and everyone who was different from her and her ilk.

  A sudden malicious thought crossed Schonewille’s mind and he wondered how she would react to being an inmate in a concentration camp. He smiled to himself.

  Heger saw the smirk and looked at his friend speculatively but, before he could speak his wife returned with two steins of beer on an ornate silver platter.

  Such pretensions, thought Schonewille and then turned to the other man. “Well now, Klaus, what is this mysterious matter you want to discuss with me?”

  Heger paused for a moment before answering and looked across to his wife. She nodded her head and rose from her seat with a frown. She was clearly not happy at the unspoken message contained in the look, but she obviously knew what he wanted. With an irritated “Ja, ja,” she left the sitting room without a backward glance.

  Whether this meant she knew the subject matter to be discussed and was just being left out of the detailed conversation or was completely in the dark he was not sure yet. Knowing the woman and her nature he surmised that she had at least some idea about the topic at hand. As it later transpired, he had guessed correctly.

  Heger had ruled out having her present when the initial approach was being made because of her strong antipathy towards the SS officer. He hesitated for a moment or two after his wife left the room and took a long pull of his stein before carefully setting it down on a small glass-topped table at his elbow. He lifted his eyes to look at the SS man and found him returning the gaze, the eyes intense and the eyebrows raised speculatively.

  “You remember the gist of our conversation this morning?” he finally asked.

  Schonewille played hard to get. “We spoke of many things, Klaus. The war, money from the camps, Warsaw, Hungary, coffee.”

  A look of annoyance spread over the banker’s features. He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly with frustration. “Friedrich, please do not play games. What I am about to discuss
with you could get us both shot. But …” He paused for breath and then went on vehemently. “It could guarantee our future in the event of the Reich being defeated.” Schonewille still gave nothing away, though he nodded his head. The gesture could have been one of understanding or acquiescence. Heger did not know which, but he went on.

  “This morning I told you about a meeting at the Hotel Maison Rouge in Strasbourg and the scheme to take money out of the country … and, as I said, those who took part are probably lining their own pockets as well, in order to safeguard their future. Well, what I have in mind is that we also guarantee our financial future and our personal well-being. I said a moment ago that what I was about to propose could get us shot. However, this could only happen if one of us, or a third party who I will talk about later, reveals what we plan to do. Otherwise, the plan is very safe.”

  While Heger was speaking Schonewille wondered whether the room was bugged, or there was anybody listening. He chose his words carefully. “Klaus, at the moment I have no idea what you are talking about. Nevertheless, I will listen further. You must be frank though and get to the point. Otherwise I will not be able to make up my mind about anything. Do you understand?”

  Heger was no fool. He understood perfectly well that what he had already said was enough to put him in the hands of the Gestapo. At the same time he understood that the SS major sitting opposite him was playing a cagey game. He was asking for more information before committing himself and without running the risk of implication if the conversation was being recorded. If transcripts of their talk so far were ever placed in the hands of the Gestapo then Schonewille could legitimately say that he had never agreed to be part of anything illegal and was just gaining information on behalf of the authorities.

  Nevertheless, he felt he knew enough about the man to feel relatively certain that if the safeguards were sufficient enough, then the ever careful Sturmbannführer would join him in what he was about to propose.

  There was also one very simple fact. Without Schonewille there was no hope of the plan ever getting off the ground, let alone succeeding.

  Heger smiled conspiratorially. “My dear friend, what we have in mind is quite simple. You are the person who audits and checks the money and valuables that come from the Polish and some of the German camps. With the Russians moving towards our borders, the Polish camps are being closed down and destroyed. Yet there is still much booty to be gained from these camps and the other eastern territories, namely Hungary and Czechoslovakia.

  “What is of equal importance for this plan is that there is now much confusion in the camps with no precise auditing of what is being collected and where its destination. Therefore, what we plan to do is create a special account in the Reichsbank. From now on and in the time that remains, some of the profits from the camps will be placed in this account.

  “If there comes a time when the Reich is faced with collapse then this money can be withdrawn by us in either gold or foreign currency. For example, US dollars. These can be used for our escape, or to provide for our continued health and prosperity.”

  Heger paused for a moment still smiling, his voice rising as he enthused. “You see, Friedrich. It is foolproof. Until such time as we withdraw the money we cannot be accused of anything. And, when we do, if we do, it will only be because the Third Reich is finished and there will be no one left in authority to be a threat to us.”

  “Who will control this account?” asked Schonewille.

  “You and this third person. As a banker I will administer it and keep its existence hidden but it would be strange if my signature was on any withdrawal authorisation. Do you understand?”

  Schonewille nodded his head. He was becoming more and more intrigued. “Who is this mysterious third person? Before I commit myself any further, I must know his name?”

  Heger shook his head. “I’m sorry Friedrich. I am not at liberty to reveal his identity at present. I must first know whether you are with us. But, this I can say. He is a senior officer with considerable influence … verstehst?”

  Schonewille again nodded his head. He did understand. He reasoned that Heger’s words must be true. His old friend had neither the courage nor the creativity to think up such a scheme. Or so he thought. He was later to find out that much of the plan had indeed been initiated by the banker.

  “The key to this whole affair is the rank and importance of your mysterious third person. I cannot throw in my lot with you unless I know his name,” persisted Schonewille.

  Heger smiled wryly and shook his head. “No Friedrich. For the last time, I cannot do that. You will learn the name when I know you are committed, not before.”

  Schonewille was surprised at his friend’s strength of purpose. It made him feel uneasy and he wanted time to think. He asked several more questions but got nowhere. Heger refused point blank to give away any more information.

  It was the banker who abruptly ended the conversation by standing up and opening a door, through which he called his wife. “Alice, Liebling, können wir zwei Bier haben, bitte?”

  Schonewille hurriedly got to his feet. “Nein. Thank you Klaus, but I must be going. I have some important work to do tonight and I also want to think about our conversation.”

  Frau Heger stood at the opposite doorway and watched him leave. She made no attempt to get his coat and it was left to her husband to help him on with the garment and see him to the door. He said a curt goodbye and without a backward glance walked to the gate, opened it and headed off down the street.

  When he had walked about a hundred metres he stopped and stood in a doorway uncertain what to do, trying to martial his thoughts. With his uncertainty came anger.

  More than anything Schonewille did not like to be in a situation over which he had no control or understanding. It reminded him of his lonely boyhood. He swore under his breath and looked back in the direction from whence he had come. The street was empty. Anyway, with the blackout in force it was difficult to see more than thirty or forty meters.

  He walked back in the direction of the Heger’s apartment. The street was still deserted. In the distance he could hear a radio blaring, but otherwise the night was quiet. He checked for cars parked in the street. Nothing.

  He waited for fifteen minutes, standing in the shadows, waiting to see if anybody entered or left the apartment … Still nothing. Then an elderly man walked up the street towards where he was lurking. He peered inquisitively at Schonewille, but when he recognised the SS uniform turned his head and quickly hurried away. I cannot stand here all night, he thought.

  There was another problem. With four apartments in the block several people could come and go and he would not be able to ascertain if they were associated with the Hegers. Still, he had to try, but how?

  The answer came in the form of a thirteen-year-old boy. He was a Hitlerjunge, the youth corps through which the creed of the Third Reich was instilled in almost every German child.

  Schonewille hailed the youth, who came over obediently. The SS major asked the lad’s name and his Hitler Youth rank. The answer was given without hesitation.

  “Well, Emil, can you tell me how many of your section live close by?”

  “Vier, Herr Sturmbannführer.”

  Schonewille thought quickly. Four, five including the lad standing in front of him. It should be enough.

  “Well boy, I want you to collect your kameraden now, and quickly. Then report back here to me immediately and tell no one except your parents. Verstanden?”

  “Jawohl, Herr Sturmbannführer, ich verstehe.” The lad gave a snappy salute and with a firm “Heil Hitler” ran back up the street. He was back in less than fifteen minutes with four other Hitler Youth in tow; their ages ranging from about eleven to fourteen years. They stood to attention in front of him, excited and expectant.

  Schonewille smiled in spite of himself.

  “Kameraden, listen carefully. I want you to do something for me, something that is important for the Reich.”

&
nbsp; The youths took in every word. He pointed in the direction of the Heger’s apartment block.

  “That apartment block, number thirty-eight. I want you to make a list of all the people who enter or leave between now and seven o’clock in the morning. Now, how many of you are familiar with who lives there?”

  The first lad, Emil, and one of the others, indicated how they knew at least by sight those who lived in the block.

  “That is good, Emil and …” He paused and motioned towards the other boy who immediately volunteered his name … “And Wolfgang will point out if anybody is not a resident of number thirty-eight. Those that are not and are leaving I want followed. I will give you some money to cover any fares. You must tell me where they go and attempt to find out who they are. But, and this is vital, be discreet.”

  Schonewille spent the next few minutes answering questions from the brighter of the boys. No, they were not to approach any of the residents. No, they could not tell any other member of the forces. Further questions could only be directed to him. Yes, they should as far as possible keep hidden and yes, they were to stay where they were unless there was a bad air-raid.

  Finally Schonewille told Emil and Wolfgang to report to his home at eight o’clock in the morning. The two puffed themselves up with pride. Schonewille dismissed them and they all saluted. This time their Heil Hitlers were much more muted although still very enthusiastic.

  He then went home. Sophia was already in bed and he made no attempt to wake her. He went to his study and thought about the day’s events. The information learned that evening had not given him much to go on. In truth he had been smart enough to guess the gist of the plan before he had gone to Heger’s apartment. In one or two vital areas he was already one step ahead of the banker, but heading on a slightly different tack. In effect he had been playing dumb while he learned more details of what Heger was up to. In this respect though, his subterfuge had only been partly successful.