Saboteurs

by Michael Dobbs

  The “life of the party,” Burger concluded early on, was Herbie Haupt, muscular, darkly handsome, nearly six feet tall, an accomplished concertina player “with classical Greek features.”16 Haupt was the youngest person selected for the school—he was twenty-two—and also the most Americanized. He had lived in Chicago from the age of five, growing up in the ethnic German neighborhoods of the North Side and becoming a naturalized American citizen. He spoke English better than he spoke German. Haupt’s main interests, it soon became clear, were money and girls. He entertained the other trainees with stories of reaching Germany via Mexico and Japan, rounding Cape Horn and running the British blockade along France’s Atlantic coast, a feat for which he had been awarded the Iron Cross, Second Class.

  Haupt spent much of his time with a blue-eyed, blond-haired giant named Joseph Schmidt, a reserved man with a high-pitched voice and a Swedish accent. Schmidt was very strong, impressing the others with his trick of bending metal bars. His background was a little mysterious. He was an excellent shot and outdoorsman; it seemed he had worked in Canada as a hunter and trapper. Burger understood that he had become acquainted with Haupt in Mexico, and had traveled to Europe with him on the same blockade-runner. Along with a natural reticence, Schmidt had a hot temper, and was liable to fly off the handle when contradicted. Of all the trainees, Burger considered him “the most dangerous.”17

  Then there was a stocky little man whom Burger knew only as Dempsey, who amused the others with stories about his career in the United States as a professional boxer and trainer of prizefighters. Burger noticed that he spoke out of the corner of his mouth like a gangster, and that most of his front teeth were missing, suggesting that he had been bashed about a bit in his time.18 Dempsey served as the men’s first physical education instructor. Kappe wanted him to join the sabotage mission, but he pleaded a prior commitment: one of his boxers was fighting a big match against an Italian. He left Quenz Lake after a few days with a cheery goodbye and a promise to “follow you guys” to America.19

  The remaining trainees made less of an impression on Burger. Richard Quirin and Heinrich Heinck had both worked for Volkswagen and appeared to be inseparable. Quirin had large protruding ears and walked with a forward slouch; Heinck was a “slow-moving phlegmatic type,” who seemed “not quite sure of himself.”20 Hermann Neubauer, “a typical gangster type,” always wore “a hat pulled down on his eyes exactly straight.” Werner Thiel was a “shabby dresser” who spoke in a slow monotone. Ernst Zuber, a high-strung man with a round face, was unable to express himself clearly, in either English or German. The last member of the group was a wiry little man with large eyebrows, known to everyone as Scottie because he looked and acted like a Scotsman.

  All in all, they were a mediocre lot.

  AT NINE o’clock on Monday morning, after everyone had finished breakfast and calisthenics, Kappe summoned the trainees to the classroom above the garage. They sat down in front of him on rows of school benches like a bunch of eager pupils, pens and notebooks ready, watching him pace back and forth across the wooden floor. Stopping production in America, he told them, was as essential to the German war effort as the battles raging on the Russian front.21 It would be their job to sabotage the American light metal industry and the transportation system along the East Coast. This was the first time most of them had heard the word “sabotage” mentioned in connection with their mission.

  “Naturally, this work is top secret,” Kappe went on, in his thickly accented version of the King’s English. “You aren’t allowed to leave the farm without permission, send mail, or receive mail. You must tell no one what you are doing here, not even your families.” 22

  Kappe introduced the men to the two Abwehr specialists who would instruct them in the business of destroying factories and railroads: Herr Doktor Walter König and Herr Doktor Günther Schulz. The two Herr Doktors were both acknowledged masters of their trade, frequently called upon to display their tricks at Abwehr conferences. They had personally designed much of the sabotage equipment that the saboteurs would be taking with them to America. König’s specialty was the theory of chemical reactions; Schulz actually built the explosives.

  König was “a typical Nazi type,” a tall, blond-haired man, about thirty years old, didactic and narrow-minded, with a cold stare, totally dedicated to the cause. The theme of his first lecture was how to build a simple incendiary device, using easily available materials that could be bought at a typical American drugstore without arousing suspicion. The men made detailed notes of the recipes that König scrawled on the blackboard. 23

  Two hundred parts Chile saltpeter One hundred parts sawdust

  “Dampen the sawdust and mix it with the saltpeter,” König instructed. In order to light the incendiary device, they would need a rudimentary fuse. This was simple enough to create: a mixture of three parts potassium chlorate and one part powdered sugar, ignited by a drop of sulfuric acid.

  König drilled the men in such basic matters as the explosive qualities of trinitrotoluene, or TNT. He showed them a block of yellow material, about the size of a brick and weighing approximately two pounds, and explained that it could be used to sever a steel rail or girder. Left by itself, the material was quite stable, he emphasized. You could fire a bullet into it, and it would disintegrate rather than explode. In order to ignite the yellow block, you needed a detonator, made up of chemicals with an explosive velocity high enough to destabilize the TNT. The detonator would in turn be linked to some kind of safety fuse and timing device, allowing a saboteur to make his getaway.

  König then produced an invention that filled him with pride: a block of TNT disguised to look like a lump of coal.24 On closer examination, the trainees could see that the explosive was covered by a plastic substance of the kind one might use to repair wood, cut into an irregular shape and painted black. König showed the class a hole that had been drilled into the plastic, permitting the introduction of a detonator.

  While one group was studying theory with König in the classroom, the other went next door to the laboratory to receive practical lessons from Schulz in how to assemble fuses and explosive devices. Schulz’s classes tended to be more interesting than König’s because the students got to work on their own. Smaller and more agile than König, Schulz led the morning gymnastics classes after Dempsey’s departure. He was less of a Nazi than König; there were even rumors that he had been in trouble with the Gestapo.25

  In one of his first classes, Schulz produced a test tube, some dried peas, electric wire, two screws, and two pieces of cork, and announced he would use the materials to make a simple timing device.26 First, he filled the tube halfway to the top with the peas, along with enough water to cover them. He then sliced one of the corks to make a thin disk, with a brass screw at the center, connected to a battery by electric wire. He placed the cork disk inside the test tube, so it was floating on top of the water. One-half of the circuit was now complete. He inserted the second screw into the other piece of cork, and wired it to the battery as well. He used this piece of cork to seal the top of the test tube.

  The students watched, fascinated, as the dried peas slowly expanded, pushing the brass screws together and completing the electric circuit, setting off a small explosion. They spent the next lesson experimenting with test tubes of different sizes, and different quantities of water and dried peas. They discovered it was possible to delay or hasten the detonation of a bomb by playing with the different variables.

  In all, the men learned to make at least ten such contraptions. Another device, for use in sabotaging railroads, consisted of a rubber ring separating two metal plates connected to a battery. Schulz showed them how to place a metal thumbtack inside the rubber ring, which could then be attached to a railroad track. When a heavy object such as a railway locomotive ran over the plates, contact would be established through the thumbtack, igniting the bomb.

  During noon recess, Schulz and König took the students out to the explosives pit and mini-rai
lroad at the end of the estate for practice in blowing things up. They explained that two pounds of the “yellow stuff” or the “black stuff” was sufficient to blow up a rail. They showed the students how to place the TNT by the side of the rail, drill a hole in it, place a detonator in the hole, and light a fuse. The first time they did this, everybody dived for cover as the device went off. When they returned to the site, they found a section of rail missing. 27 As the trainees got more proficient in handling explosives and timing devices, they practiced their skills on objects scattered around the estate, such as a wooden post buried in sand or an iron bar in a cellar. They learned that it was usually unnecessary to totally destroy a target: the same result could be achieved by applying a small quantity of explosive to a critical point, causing the entire structure to collapse.

  The instructors did their best to simulate the conditions that the saboteurs were likely to encounter in America by organizing mock exercises. For these exercises, the students were required to wear an outfit of black pants, black shirt, and a black cap.28 They were then divided into pairs, and given detailed instructions on what to blow up. Obstacles were placed around each target, in the form of harmless explosive devices that went off when someone approached them. Schulz and König posed as guards, leaping out from behind trees and doorways and throwing firecrackers at the nervous trainees.

  BY THE end of the first week, the students had slipped into a routine. 29 Reveille at seven a.m., followed by calisthenics, making of beds, and cleaning of rooms. Breakfast was at eight, classes from nine to noon. Back to the farmhouse for lunch, and an hour reading English-language newspapers and magazines. Afternoon classes ran from two to four. Then sports, consisting of soccer games, boxing instruction, discus throwing, wrestling, and occasional pistol shooting. Dinner was at six, followed by a rest period, during which the men got together with group leaders to go over what they had learned.

  The classes with Schulz and König were from Monday to Thursday. On Friday, Kappe arrived from Berlin to help the men with the cover stories that they would use in America, and see how well they stood up to interrogation. The stories had to sound plausible, not only to chance acquaintances but also to the U.S. authorities: if necessary, they would be provided with false documents to back up their claims.30 As the trainee with the most extensive knowledge of America, Dasch helped Kappe drill the men in their new identities.

  The trick was not to change too many personal details. That way, there would be less chance of the men becoming forgetful and giving themselves away. As far as outsiders were concerned, Dasch was now Davis. His birth date was shifted from 1903 to 1900, and his place of birth from Speyer-on-the-Rhine, Germany, to San Francisco, California. Kerling, alias Edward J. Kelly, an Irish-American bartender, also had his birthplace shifted to San Francisco. On Kappe’s instructions, Kerling added five years to his age, so that his birth date was now the spring of 1906, shortly before the Great Fire, which would conveniently explain why it was impossible to find records relating to his origins. Kappe told Dasch to look up the precise date of the fire in order to make sure the story held up.

  Kappe decided that Burger and Haupt could keep their own names as they were naturalized American citizens and would therefore arouse less suspicion than German immigrants. Burger would pretend to be a Jewish refugee who had spent time in a Nazi concentration camp. His name sounded vaguely Jewish anyway. During his time in the hands of the Gestapo, he had met many German Jews, so it would not be difficult to come up with supporting details for this story. Burger wanted to know whether he should pose as an Orthodox or Reform Jew. Since he knew nothing about Jewish religious ceremonies, Kappe and Dasch decided he would be better off as a Reform Jew.

  Haupt would simply keep his old identity as a German-American boy brought up in Chicago who had run off to Mexico on a lark, to avoid getting married to a pregnant girlfriend. If questioned, he would say he had spent the last year in Mexico, and deny that he had been anywhere near Germany. The only problem was that he had failed to register for the draft before he left home, even though he was of draft age. His superiors decided that when he got back to Chicago he would go to the local draft board and clear the matter up. In the meantime, he would be issued a false draft card in the name of Lawrence Jordan, a young man he had once known in Chicago.

  The other men would variously claim to be Polish, Lithuanian, and even Portuguese. They would have jobs requiring very little documentation, such as painter, dishwasher, or farmhand, which were not too far from their actual occupations. Because Schmidt spoke English with a Swedish accent and had a vaguely Scandinavian appearance, he would pose as a Swede, Jerry Swensen.

  Kappe cross-examined the men on their new identities, firing off questions like “Where was your father born?” “What schools did you attend?” and “Where were you last week?”31

  Often, the stories would then begin to fall apart. That is what happened with the slow-witted and unimaginative Heinck. Because Heinck’s English was not that good, Dasch had suggested he pose as Henry Kaynor, the son of a Polish coal miner from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. His cover story was that he left Wilkes-Barre at the age of fifteen after his mother died, working in a series of Polish restaurants.

  “How do you spell Wilkes-Barre?” Kappe asked Heinck one evening in the classroom.

  Heinck—who had never left New York during his thirteen years in the United States—was stumped. Although he made a valiant attempt to spell the name of the town where he supposedly grew up, it was clear he either was lying or was illiterate.

  “You’ve done a poor job,” Kappe scolded Dasch. “You must get the boys together and go over their stories so there are no more holes.”

  Dasch promised to create better stories for the men as soon as they got to America.

  AS THE most committed Nazi among the saboteurs, Edward Kerling prided himself on his optimism and positive outlook. “This war is won for us already,” he liked to boast to anybody who would listen.32 “With these soldiers, we can’t lose.” He felt America had been tricked into going to war with Germany by “a small group of Jews,” and did not really have the will to fight.33 But now, perhaps for the first time since returning to Germany, Kerling began to have doubts about German invincibility. Halfway through the course, he went to Kappe with a series of complaints about his fellow trainees.

  “These fellows you’ve got to do this job, they’re useless. Some of them haven’t been in America for years. Some of them are mentally unfit.”

  “Who do you think is unfit?”

  Take Dasch, for example, Kerling replied. You only had to be around Dasch a little while to have doubts about him.34 Dasch was the kind of person who seemed to take pleasure in doing the opposite of what was expected. His greatest passion was playing cards: whenever they got any time off, Dasch could be relied upon to organize a game of pinochle. He seemed uninterested in the sabotage lessons.35 He would arrive at classes late and affect a superior air. In conversation, he talked like a true Nazi. But there were times when everybody else snapped to attention and shouted “Heil Hitler” and Dasch would just smirk and keep his hands in his pockets.

  Or Burger. Kerling conceded that Burger was an excellent student. Unlike Dasch, he paid great attention in class, memorizing the different formulas and taking elaborate care with the experiments. On the other hand, there were rumors that Burger had spent time in a concentration camp, which raised questions about his political reliability.

  Kerling went on down his list. Neubauer had “splinters on top of his brain” as a result of the injuries he had suffered in Russia.36 If the pieces of metal moved around, he would have to go to the hospital, and his cover would be blown immediately, endangering everybody. Zuber had also served on the Russian front and was now “a mental case.” He knew little about America, having been away for five or six years, and had expressed a marked antipathy to sabotage work. Then there was Thiel, whose knowledge of English was very limited, and Haupt, who could barely look at a
pretty girl without chasing after her. Finally, there was the man known as Scottie, who drank so heavily that he was a danger to the mission.

  Kappe had heard enough. He told Kerling that he had checked Dasch and Burger out carefully, and had confidence in both men. In fact, Dasch had been Kappe’s first recruit, plucked out of the foreign broadcast monitoring section of the German foreign ministry the previous year. The previous December, he had written a long memorandum outlining various kinds of sabotage work and suggesting possible targets in America.37 The memorandum had greatly impressed Kappe, who asked Dasch to help him go through the Nazi Party files of German-American returnees to find suitable candidates for a sabotage mission. Dasch’s intimate knowledge of American ways was also a major plus, in Kappe’s view. For example, he was thoroughly familiar with baseball, in contrast to Kerling, who had never been to a ball game during his eleven years in America.38

  Kappe knew that Dasch had difficulty applying himself to the lessons on sabotage techniques.39 One of the instructors had complained about this as well. When Kappe asked Dasch what was the matter, his protégé had replied that he was preoccupied with his responsibilities as group leader. He did not have to know all the technical details. It would be sufficient if his subordinates learned their lessons perfectly. Kappe accepted the explanation.

  As for Burger, Kappe conceded that he had been in trouble with the Gestapo, but that did not mean that he was disloyal. In order to understand Burger, you had to understand the history of the fratricidal split between the storm troopers—also known as Sturmabteilung, or S.A.—and the S.S., which had come to a head soon after his return to America in 1933. Burger had been a follower of Ernst Röhm, the S.A. leader and one of Hitler’s closest associates in the early days of the Nazi movement. The Führer had concluded that Röhm had become too powerful, and was threatening to undermine the new regime with his bullying storm trooper ways and wild rhetoric about the betrayal of the “German revolution.” Tactics that were appropriate for the period when the Nazis were struggling to gain power were counterproductive now that Hitler was master of Germany. So he ordered the S.S. to crush the storm troopers, murdering Röhm and hundreds of his top aides during the Night of the Long Knives in 1934.