by Bill James
‘It is very possible, though, that the presence of the king will make hostile behaviour of that sort unlikely. He is understandably very popular in Britain. People admire the skill, humanity and loving loyalty with which he was able to keep the crown as well as his consort, despite virulent opposition from many deeply negative, though formidable, figures. And, of course, the Führer is known to have encouraged the king not to capitulate, to defy bourgeois religiosity, and, therefore, will rightly share some of the monarch’s popularity. The king also won good opinions from his subjects by sympathizing on the spot, and in such a sincere fashion, with the unemployed of South Wales in 1936 during the continuing British economic depression. People may feel it would be ungrateful, even subversive, to show crude antipathy towards his, and a distinguished guest’s, celebratory parade. Those wishing to cause turmoil might realize they would be savagely and entirely justifiably set-upon by supporters of the king in the crowd, and this will deter.’
Valk saw he would need to investigate the kind of organizations who might put people on to the streets with orders to ruin the procession and its magnificently constructive aims. Reds probably flourished in Britain; the country was so pathetically broad-minded. The government there even allowed publication of a blatantly Communist newspaper, The Daily Worker, its title copied from a similar rag in the United States. Wholesalers wouldn’t distribute the British Daily Worker, but readers were actually permitted to take bundles of copies to the newsagents themselves, without the least action by the police, and to support the paper with a £1 levy.
As well as the Communists, the Jews might send groups to demonstrate against the Führer. Some Communists would actually be Jews, of course: an especially undesirable mix. Would the churches put anti-state-visit teams on the streets? The colleges and universities? And perhaps old soldiers’ associations would object to friendliness with Germany.
Knecht said: ‘I come next to street-level possible assaults. We and the British will have ample bodyguards close to the main vehicle, which would travel at brisk walking pace only. They will easily be able to deal with any approach of this kind. Also, troops will line the route.’
Knecht seemed to become less bouncy. ‘Finally, upper-floor windows. These may be the chief source of danger. Several commercial buildings will offer a clear targeting sight of the Führer in the comparatively slow-moving open car below. The rectangular form of the vehicle will, as it were, frame him. A trained sniper could get off several shots in the time it would be in his view.’ Knecht pointed with the cane again. ‘For instance, this tall property here – a books depository or warehouse where volumes are stored before distribution to the shops. The car would probably have to slow even more to negotiate this grassy island just outside. It’s probable that staff in such a building would wish to be on the street to enjoy the procession with the crowd. This might mean a marksman could stealthily make his way to a high floor unobserved and find a suitable spot. It will be very important that the upper floors in these buildings are patrolled, and that householders are told to stay away from bedroom windows while the parade passes their homes in case they are mistaken for possible assassins, leading to unpredictable and perhaps severe results. Shooting of an allegedly harmless civilian would be another factor operating against the amicable purpose of the procession. The British Press would make a considerable fuss about something like that, even the serious papers.’
After Knecht ended his analysis, a medical brigadier outlined the range of first-aid equipment, analgesic syringes, and non-alcoholic energy drinks he would have ready at all times close to the Führer, and indicated on a projector slide the quickest routes to any one of three major hospitals, the choice to be made according to (a) the location where an attack took place and (b) the most serious of the injuries. He listed the respective hospitals’ specializations – eyes, chest, general head and face, limbs, abdomen. All three hospitals would be on special standby during the initial parade. He would ask the British to position ambulances at various places near the parade’s path. He and other doctors and a nurse would be in two cars following the vehicle containing the Führer and the king. ‘I am confident we would do the best possible,’ he said.
Then, to close the meeting, a short, portly protective clothing expert spoke. Valk felt the proceedings could no longer be termed joyous or festive. He wished he had left before these contributions. It would be vital, the expert said, for the Führer to wear a hat at all times when outside, and especially during the opening parade. All his head wear was steel-lined: a vital safeguard against gunfire from above. His skull would be totally enclosed within the slightly curving shields. Also, peaks of military caps and rims of other hats would be reinforced. ‘Now, it’s true,’ he said, ‘that the weight of the metal can be irksome. But all security advice should stress to the Führer the importance of these hats, regardless of minor discomfort. There will be five different styles of armoured hats available: three military caps, a bowler and a trilby. The British wear bowlers and civilian dress for certain functions, and the Führer must be properly equipped in case he has to take part.’
The expert passed a military cap and a bowler around the table so people could examine them, perhaps knock their knuckles against the steel plates in the lining for reassurance, and compare the weight to that of an ordinary hat. Valk thought them no heavier than an army helmet. The Führer had also been a soldier and would realize this.
The expert said: ‘Our Führer did not in the least object to measurements of his skull being taken so the carapaces could be individually fashioned and, in fact, remained good-humoured throughout, speaking of the fitments as his “jolly casques”. Unsnug steel plates can be abrasive to the scalp, even drawing blood. This might visibly run down on to cheeks and collar: clearly something to be avoided when with a monarch, and liable to cause unkind, scarcely hidden amusement among those watching.
‘Also, if these additions to headgear fit badly, a hat might become distorted and very unsightly, with hard edges of the shield obtrusively prominent. Messrs. Krupps have supplied the metal and carried out its shaping for the crown of the hats and the peaks and rims in their own foundry without charge, as a willing donation towards the Führer’s safety. These reinforcement pieces are then sewn in by the Führer’s tailor, using small, imperceptible stitches and cotton to match and blend in with a hat’s colour: khaki, navy blue or grey.’
The expert was not altogether content with the kind of bulletproof vest the Führer wore these days. It was light and, admittedly, imperceptible. But he wondered whether comfort and chicness had taken precedence over purpose. He passed some vests around now – the lighter model, and the one the expert would prefer: bulkier, stiffer, and needing a stouter leather harness. He claimed it would stop bigger bullets, even fired from very near. Also, it was less flammable. When the hats and vests had been returned to him, he took off his jacket and shirt and swiftly strapped on the heavier vest over his singlet. It provided cover from just below the neck to the navel. Keeping the vest on, he re-dressed and placed the bowler on his head, then walked a few paces back and forth at the side of the conference table so all could see the effect. Valk thought he did look notably fatter than his previous fatness, and forlorn or ludicrous under the bowler.
‘Impressive,’ Knecht said. He promised to pass the recommendations higher about the hats and the vests, so that they would reach the Führer.
With candour and, for a moment, some fear and helplessness in his voice, the expert said: ‘Of course, the more we improve the protection to the crucial upper half of the Führer’s body, the more we realize there is one part of the area that cannot be protected. I speak of the Führer’s face. People will understandably crowd to see that face. It is the face of an icon and must not remain hidden or shrouded. The masses draw inspiration and resolve from that face. The peaks or rims of hats may partly curtail exposure, and I fear this is the most we can achieve, given the absolute need for a large degree of openness. The overall
objective of all the protective clothing is to diminish and diminish and diminish the amount of target area available to a would-be assassin, whether close-to or a distant sniper. For a public figure, the face will always remain vulnerable, though. We cannot give the Führer a visor. The people would not permit it. Neither would he. And he will not allow a double to appear for him. Perhaps justifiably, he believes that no credible double could conceivably exist.’
Valk found it hard to visualize the Führer in a bowler, but that could be a compliment to him. As the expert finished his unsettling contribution, someone mock-fired a rifle at his chest and then fell theatrically to the floor, legs and arms threshing at first, but gradually subsiding, as if a bullet had been repelled by the thick vest and come back like a boomerang and killed the marksman. Valk didn’t mind a little humour, even when dark. He felt that almost the whole of the second part of the session today had comical elements, although the objective was supremely serious. It was the spelling out with such thoroughness the details of physical protection that at moments gave a farcical twist to things, the plodding, dogged, specificness. Others must have felt the same, and so the ludicrous fooling just now.
The meeting ended, and most of the participants dispersed. Knecht remained at the head of the table, tidying his papers and smiling to himself. Valk approached and sat opposite. ‘Things went very well, sir,’ he said. ‘A little sombre occasionally, but very necessary topics. They have to be dealt with.’
‘What we have to ask, Andreas, haven’t we, is whether it’s all total bollocks?’
‘Whether what is, sir?’
‘You like to think things are as they seem, don’t you?’
‘Which things?’
‘Luckily, I’ve happened to get sight lately of a confidential memo from von Ribbentrop to the Führer,’ Knecht replied.
‘I don’t understand. You came by a private message from the Foreign Minister to Hitler? How could that be? What kind of luck, exactly?’
‘It’s not a comfortable or comforting document.’
‘In which respect, sir?’
‘This is what I mean when I say you like to think things are as they seem.’
‘Well, up to a point.’
‘“Up to a point, Lord Copper.” There’s a new English novel where an underling tactfully questions something said by His Lordship, but really means: “That’s out-and-out rubbish.”’
‘Scoop. Evelyn Waugh. Amusing, as is his earlier work. Decline and Fall. The British sense of humour. Mostly based on class. Terse. “Brevity is the soul of wit.”’
‘There is a girl at a club I go to sometimes who is familiar with that book,’ Knecht said. ‘The memo gives Ribbentrop’s view of the British.’
‘He’s always been keen on friendship with them, hasn’t he?’
‘We sit here chewing over details about transport, street protests, tall buildings, hospitals, energy drinks for the London pilgrimage, but to what purpose, Andreas?’
‘For contingencies. Perhaps none of the safety provisions will be needed. They must be in place, though. This is a rule one learned at the front.’
‘Ah, the front,’ Knecht said. ‘One learned rules at the front, did one?’ His voice assumed false awe and diffidence. From behind the lumpy spectacles, he stared pseudo-respectfully at Valk. It was like a child asking its grandfather to describe his war feats. The blubber rolls between his jaw bones and neck seemed to glow with excitement as he waited for the answer.
‘If one meant to stay alive, one learned the rules,’ Valk said.
‘Which in your case, one did?’
‘One meant to stay alive and, yes, one did,’ Valk said.
‘Thanks to the rules?’
‘That’s to say, rules we made for ourselves. Not the brass’s rules. They would get you killed. Remember that pair of troops in an English poem? They speak quite fondly of their general. But . . . Yes, but. . . . “But he did for them both with his plan of attack.”’
‘The British will fight,’ Knecht said.
‘Certainly. As we discovered at the front, the British will fight, did fight.’
‘Will fight and win?’
‘They fought and won then, yes – with American help.’
‘That help might be on offer again.’
‘Some would say the United States has become much more isolationist, uninterested in Europe, sir. Times are different.’
‘Maybe. But, regardless of the American position, Ribbentrop thinks Britain will fight again. It’s evident from his memorandum that he regrets having to write this. As you say, he’s fond of the British. So, his view about their readiness to oppose us seems more believable. He’s tried to think otherwise, but observation and logic will not allow it. He refers to threatening speeches by Winston Churchill, former holder of many government offices, and similar from Lionel Paterin, a member of the Cabinet and Defence Cabinet.’ Knecht swung his gaze slowly around the big conference room, like a searchlight seeking enemy aircraft to pinpoint for the guns. ‘Why are we wasting our time here, then, making preparations for a state visit that might never happen?’
‘Might never happen, yes. Surely, sir, we have always recognized that. But it also might happen.’
‘Ribbentrop believes that if Britain and her friends come to consider themselves stronger than Germany, they will strike. He says – regretfully, very regretfully – that Britain must always be regarded as Germany’s prime enemy.’
‘But Munich. I don’t believe world war two will—’
‘What I said: you like to believe things are as they seem, Munich included.’
‘The winter is coming. Countries don’t start wars in the winter.’
‘Countries start wars when they think they can win,’ Knecht said. ‘We have people in our Ministries telling the British on the quiet that, really, Germany is weak at present – that the supposed arms build-up here doesn’t amount to much, but it might do in a year’s time. So, don’t wait. Attack now. That’s their message to Britain. They detest the Führer and all he stands for, especially the urgent requirements of Lebensraum.
‘You’ve heard of the Kordt brothers, Erich and Theodor? It sounds like a music-hall act. But both are considerable diplomatic figures. A mystery how they hold their jobs. In fact, I don’t know how they are still free and, or alive. They talk to London, saying Germany’s readiness for war is a sham, and saying also that the Soviet–German agreement is imminent, so Britain should act, before we and Russia are an unstoppable force.’
‘Eisen, back from Moscow, will have views on the possibility of an agreement.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, and from Eisen, or whatever they know him as – some clockmaking alias, I expect – the report will go to Mount. And from Mount to Bilson and the British government via, as ever, Mr Passport Control at the British embassy.’
‘Bernard Kale-Walker.’
‘Part of the scenery. But, incidentally, not, at the moment, part of the Berlin scenery. He’s in Dresden with a team.’
‘To what purpose?’
‘A mapping purpose. A bombing purpose.’
‘Dresden?’
‘Symbolic. All that pretty architecture. Wipe it out and think of the damage to morale. Also, lots of converging railway lines. Kale-Walker and his exploration are another reason I think the war is nearer than some like to believe. I admit it’s possible. Eisen will tell Mount and London not to worry about a Soviet–German agreement because it will never happen. However, the Kordt brothers urge the opposite to Vansittart – Sir Robert Vansittart, British Foreign Office bigwig. No chum of ours. And the Kordt brothers perhaps have more clout and credibility than Eisen. Meanwhile, Kale-Walker pops down to Dresden to select a few targets for the future. And how far ahead is that future? You’ll know the term “pre-emptive”, Andreas.’
‘Of course.’
‘Attack a possible enemy first, to stop the enemy attacking you.’
‘Get one’s retaliation in first,’ Valk said.
<
br /> ‘Where does this leave the pomp and circumstance state visit?’
NINE
Toulmin turned up alone at Mount’s apartment. It was early evening. Mount had the curtains open, the lights showing. Mount thought it reasonably safe: surveillance seemed to be finished. Toulmin, wearing one of his very presentable, dark-grey office suits and a strikingly white shirt, brought what Mount immediately recognized as terrific insider stuff: at the least strong rumour or gossip, and possibly gospel. ‘The Hitler visit to London, spring 1939,’ Toulmin said. ‘Still not a certainty, but preparations move forward fast and in considerable detail.’
‘Well, they’re probably both very keen, the king and Adolf. They see great gains for their reputations in that kind of show.’
‘There’s some bad interdepartmental strife.’
‘Between?’
‘The Foreign Ministry – including Ribbentrop himself, apparently – and the security gang. It’s about who’ll run things, if it takes place.’
‘And who will?’
‘Three people are to go over ahead to check safety arrangements,’ Toulmin said.
‘I’d expect that.’
‘A Major Valk in charge,’ Toulmin said. ‘That’s the name on the grapevine here. I’d heard of him previously.’
‘Andreas Valk. Old trooper.’
‘Responsible to Knecht. More grapevine. Everyone recognizes that name, of course.’
‘Colonel Maximilian Knecht,’ Mount replied. ‘Young star.’
‘Then we have to ask whom Knecht is responsible to.’
‘And what answer do we get?’
‘Himmler?’
‘Quite likely,’ Mount said.
‘Goebbels?’
‘Goebbels? He’s Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, surely. No security powers.’