Ring of Spies

by Alex Gerlis

  ‘You may want to read this before we start – two of you will have to share.’

  Intelligence Report

  Top Secret

  Restricted: CATEGORY A

  From: Major Mark B. Fine, Acting Head of Divisional Intelligence, Headquarters Company, 7th Armored Division, United States Army

  To: Lieutenant General Courtney Hodges, Commander, United States First Army

  Through: Major General Robert W. Hasbrouck, 7th Armored Division; Major General Alan W. Jones, 106th Infantry Division

  Subject: Issues arising from German offensive in the St Vith area, ongoing from 16 December 1944

  Manhay, Belgium, Monday 25 December 1944

  I took over as acting divisional intelligence officer, Headquarters Company, on 18 December following the attack on St Vith. The German offensive in the St Vith area began at 5.30 on the morning of 16 December with a strong artillery bombardment followed by units of the 5th Panzer Army advancing towards our positions. The two main units involved were the 18th and 62nd Volksgrenadier Divisions, who advanced towards St Vith through the Schnee Eifel woods, the 18th taking up the northern and centre sectors, the 62nd to the south supported by the 116th Panzer Division.

  What is of particular relevance for this report is that while the area contains a number of villages, there was no obvious strategic pattern to which ones the Germans chose to attack and drive through and those they attempted to bypass. They subjected one village to a sustained attack, even though there were no United States forces based there, but entered another apparently oblivious to the fact that it was well defended.

  In our sector there were two bridges across the River Our. As the German forces advanced westwards, they concentrated their attempts to cross it on the bridge at Steinebruck, to the south. This bridge was more heavily defended by our forces than that at Schoenberg to the north. The 18th Volksgrenadiers only crossed the bridge at Schoenberg with the assistance of tank units from the 6th Panzer Army that had moved south from their sector.

  The German forces continued their advance on St Vith on the main road from the river. Approximately one mile north of this road is the village of Wallerode, outside of which we had located a petrol depot. We were extremely concerned that the Germans would capture this fuel supply intact, thus aiding their advance. Although our engineers had failed to reach the depot in time to destroy it, the German forces didn’t approach the depot.

  Three miles south of the main road is the site of our former fuel depot north of the village of Schlierbach, which has been closed since early November because the terrain had proved to be too difficult for our tankers to reach it. Despite this, a sizeable unit of the 62nd Volksgrenadiers diverted south from their advance on St Vith to capture the depot.

  As per standing orders our troops know it is a priority to take possession where possible of any enemy paperwork they come across, and especially maps. I have been paying particular attention to two maps, one taken from the body of a Hauptsturmführer, or captain, from the 62nd Volksgrenadiers and the other from an abandoned armoured car belonging to the 18th Volksgrenadiers.

  Between them these maps give us a detailed and comprehensive picture of the area being attacked by the 5th Panzers. As well as showing roads, villages and bridges, it also covers the terrain and gradients. Along with that was a surprising amount of detail about where they believed our forces were positioned. In our opinion the enemy offensive was based on this data, which would explain, for example, why they made the errors I have detailed above.

  I have now had the opportunity to consult the US Army charts in use in November last year showing our deployments in the area. Those charts almost exactly match the out-of-date information on the captured maps.

  I have therefore come to the conclusion that the Germans planned the attack using our maps supplied to them in what was most probably an act of espionage.

  I am sure you would wish to pass on this information so it can be acted upon as a matter of urgency.

  Merry Christmas.

  (Major) Mark B. Fine, Headquarters Company, 7th Armored Division

  Sir Roland Pearson was the last of the four on his side of the table to finish reading the document. As he did so, he made a ‘hmm’ sound, raised his eyebrows and nodded, a puzzled look creasing his face. ‘That’s jolly interesting, Joe, and of course one is grateful for your sharing it with us, but I’m afraid I can’t see what it has to do with insisting we meet so urgently.’

  ‘Or indeed,’ said Hugh Harper, leaning forward as he spoke, ‘quite what the relevance is to us. We are, after all, a counter-intelligence operation. Surely this is a field matter, one for our colleagues in military intelligence?’

  Joseph Jenkins said nothing for a while, watching the four men opposite him to see if any of them had other comments to add.

  ‘Major Fine’s report about the Germans’ maps showing our deployments as of November last year is not an isolated one. We’ve had similar reports from three other sectors: those attacked by Dietrich’s 6th Panzer Army in the north and Brandenberger’s 7th in the south, as well as the 5th.

  ‘In some areas the German intelligence was unerringly accurate, but that tended to be in places where our deployments had not altered much since November. In other areas their advance was significantly delayed by a combination of heroic defending by our forces and the Germans relying on what was clearly out-of-date intelligence. This was especially notable around the town of Stavelot. They failed to capture a major fuel depot there and underestimated our strength in that area.’

  ‘Well as I say, Joe, we’re obviously—’

  ‘You need to listen carefully, Roland and Hugh and you two guys with no name. We have no doubt that someone supplied the Germans with details of our deployment.’

  ‘It could have been anyone, though, surely?’

  ‘No! This is exactly the point I’m trying to make. It couldn’t have been anyone. We’ve been looking at this very carefully and we’ve narrowed the information the Germans were relying on to one particular map produced in the middle of November. And before you say that map would have been distributed to our forces in northern Europe and to the British, Canadian, Polish and French armies, and that any of them could be the source for the espionage, let me assure you that is not the case. The map was withdrawn before it was sent out because there was an error in it. The only copies that were distributed were the ones sent to us at the US embassy here in London. The replacement maps were sent a few days later, but due to an administrative oversight, I’m afraid we failed to pass them on to you guys.’

  ‘By “you guys” you mean…?’

  ‘I mean everyone in London on that distribution list: army and RAF headquarters, various intelligence outfits, government departments…’

  Lance King muttered something inaudible, Sir Roland Pearson tutted and shook his head and Hugh Harper leaned across the table once more.

  ‘How many people are on that distribution list, Jenkins?’

  The American glanced down at a piece of paper pushed in front of him by his assistant. ‘We have two distribution lists: one covering us and the Canadians, the other for the British. It’s that second list that received the wrong map, the one we’re concerned was the basis of intelligence passed to the Germans. That list had thirty-eight names on it.’

  ‘And the maps were all identical?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which means…?’

  ‘Which means, Roland, that one of your guys here in London gave that information to the Germans. Pass those reports back to me, please.’

  Sir Roland stared at Joseph Jenkins as he gathered the papers, indicating the meeting was over. For the first time his angry demeanour had been replaced by the trace of a smile.

  ‘So you have a problem, eh, Roly? You’ve got a spy somewhere high up here in London. Still,’ the Americans were all standing now, Jenkins sounding almost jolly, ‘I’m sure Hugh and his pals with no name will find him.’

  * * *
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  They’d remained in the room after the Americans had left, Hugh Harper pacing up and down and Prince unsure whether to say anything.

  ‘Winston will be furious, absolutely furious.’ Sir Roland Pearson looked shell-shocked.

  ‘Does he need to know?’

  ‘He’s the prime minister, for heaven’s sake, Hugh: one can hardly keep him in the dark about a matter as serious as this. A bloody traitor…’

  ‘What I meant was does he need to know this level of detail?’

  ‘It’s hardly a mere detail; it’s far more serious than that. If one accepts that Jenkins, however objectionable he may be, is correct, then we have a traitor in our midst and we need to find him. You can see why they’re blaming us, can’t you? In any case, keeping it from Winston simply wouldn’t work. He’s always talking to the Americans. He’d be furious if he found out about this chap through them. In addition, the army are going to be very nervous about planning for a crossing of the Rhine if they know there’s a traitor about. You’d better hurry up and find him, hadn’t you, Hugh?’

  Harper took a while to answer, appearing distracted as he peered at the wall ahead of him. Finally he spoke. ‘I must say, what Jenkins told us does rather fit in with what we already know – the concerns we have about Milton, Byron and now Donne. My suspicion is that the spy he is talking about is Milton.’

  Sir Roland Pearson stood up and walked over to the door, turning back to the other three before he opened it. ‘He said there were thirty-eight names on the British distribution list, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but that means thirty-eight offices.’ Lance King was tapping his pencil on a blank sheet of paper. ‘Would be easier of course if it was sent to thirty-eight named individuals – that way we could investigate each and every one, though even that would be one hell of a job. But far in excess of thirty-eight people will have had access to the map: once it ends up in an office, any number of people with a certain level of security clearance can look at it. I estimate at least a dozen people would be able to see each one.’

  ‘Which is how many – thirty-eight multiplied by twelve?’

  ‘Four hundred and fifty-six, sir.’ It was the first time Richard Prince had spoken.

  ‘Always good at maths, were you, Prince? One maths master used to call me a dunce. I’d round it up to five hundred for good luck. Well then, Hugh, there you are: it’s a racing certainty Milton will be one of the five hundred or so with access to that map.’ Sir Roland was now standing in the open doorway. ‘You’d better crack on with it, hadn’t you? I’ll tell Winston that hopefully you’ll have some news for us in – what shall we say, a fortnight?’

  ‘That’s a tall order, Roly, all those people…’

  ‘What’s the date today?’

  ‘The ninth.’

  ‘End of January then.’

  * * *

  ‘Good heavens, old chap, fancy meeting you here. Are you all right?’

  He couldn’t work out if Brigadier Oakley was being sarcastic prior to arresting him. He muttered something about feeling queasy – had been all day – and then watched in bemusement as the policemen strolled past with not so much as a glance in his direction.

  ‘Major Dorking and I have a meeting at Kensington Palace, even though much of it’s a bomb site these days. Where are you off to?’

  Agent Milton stood up, still feeling shaky but relieved beyond measure that he wasn’t under arrest. ‘To be honest, sir, I find when I feel like this the best thing to do is walk it off. Thought I’d head through the park and then home.’

  ‘Good idea, see you tomorrow.’

  The three men bade each other farewell, but moments later the brigadier turned back.

  ‘Should have said, by the way, first-class job you’re doing. Well done.’

  Chapter 13

  St Vith, Belgium, January 1945

  The morning of Tuesday 23 January was as still as a silent pond on a summer evening. The sun shone brightly in a clear sky, the air was crisp, and although it was still bitterly cold, it was quite pleasant compared to the dreadful weather the 7th Armored Division had endured since the Germans had launched their offensive six weeks previously.

  Major Mark B. Fine ought to have been in a more jubilant mood than he was. The previous evening Major General Hasbrouck had assured him that his confirmation as head of divisional intelligence – and promotion to lieutenant colonel – was a formality. ‘Once we’re back in St Vith, we’ll get it rubber-stamped, don’t worry.’

  And a month to the very day after the 7th Armored Division and the 106th Infantry Division had retreated from St Vith, they were about to recapture the small Belgian town. But it had been a bloody month, far worse than he could ever have imagined, which explained Major Fine’s lack of jubilation.

  From St Vith, the division had headed west, crossing the River Salm at Grand-Halleux and basing themselves at Manhay, where they’d waited for a few weeks as the RAF and the American air force brought a halt to the German advance.

  But it was while he was based at Manhay that Major Fine’s nightmare began. Reports began to emerge of atrocities carried out on American troops by German forces. Intelligence officers from various units were assigned to a special unit set up to investigate these crimes, and Major Fine was one of those involved.

  The first massacre – and the worst in terms of numbers – had taken place just outside Malmedy, north of St Vith. On 17 December, units of Lieutenant Colonel Joachim Peiper’s 6th SS Panzer Army captured around a hundred and forty troops from an American artillery battalion at the Baugnez crossroads. As far as Fine and his colleagues could ascertain, the prisoners were taken into a field, where early that afternoon the Germans opened fire on them. They were still discovering bodies and trying to work out exactly what had happened, but Major Fine had interviewed some of the survivors and he was in no doubt the men had been murdered in cold blood. He’d helped compile a list of the dead; when he’d last seen it, there were eighty names on it.

  He’d visited the field by the Baugnez crossroads when the US forces recaptured the area on 14 January and had seen the corpses, frozen where they’d been shot. They were men like him, though mostly younger, frozen forever in time.

  Despite his determination to approach the investigation with the dispassion of his lawyer’s training, what he saw near Malmedy had a profound effect on him. He’d still not recovered from the shock when he was sent to Honsfeld, where Peiper’s men had murdered more US prisoners, these from the 394th Infantry Regiment. And before he’d had time to start investigating there, he was dispatched to Wereth, where eleven black soldiers from a field artillery battalion had been murdered by troops from the 1st SS Panzer Division. That wasn’t the end of the murder of American prisoners of war: there were incidents across the Ardennes, though those were the only ones Major Fine was involved in investigating.

  He was still at Wereth when he received orders to return to the 7th Armored Division, which was now dug down in the woods around St Vith and preparing to recapture the town. Almost as an afterthought, he was told to stop on the way at Stavelot, a village a few miles north of St Vith. He’d heard rumours of Belgian villagers being killed throughout the Ardennes, but never for a moment did he imagine it being anything on the same scale and as cold-blooded as the way he’d seen his American comrades treated. After all, the local population were non-combatants, and this was a German-speaking part of Belgium.

  Nothing had prepared him for what he saw when he entered Stavelot. His orders – more of a suggestion than a command – had come in a radio message distorted by static as his driver prepared their jeep for the short journey.

  Some civilians may have been killed in the fighting.

  His first indication of how serious the situation was came when his jeep was stopped at an American military police roadblock. The sergeant who came over glanced at Fine’s papers. He was a tough-looking New Yorker in his forties but he seemed on edge, his hands trembling, and Fine noticed that his
eyes were red.

  ‘It’s terrible, sir. They’re animals. Head to the abbey, it’s the road to the left.’

  In the grounds of the abbey, American soldiers and locals were digging graves. Some of the graves were already full, each with a dozen or so bodies in them, wrapped in stained blankets. Laid on the grass were dozens more. Major Fine took out his notebook and gripped his pencil tightly as he wrote down what he saw, making a note of how many victims there were. Most of those on the ground were also covered in blankets or coats, but in an effort to conceal their faces, whoever had covered them had left their legs visible.

  That was how he knew that there were children – dozens of them, some seemingly under ten. There was a boy with his legs crossed; his shoes looked just like those worn by Fine’s own son, the laces neatly tied. More women than men, some with stockings still looking smart, other with bare legs, bloodstained. A local gendarme was walking with a priest and two American officers. Major Fine went to join them. A captain looked at him as if he were an intruder.

  ‘We’ve got this, Major, you’re all right.’

  ‘I was told to investigate.’

  The captain stared at him for a while before drawing him aside, away from the others.

  ‘There’s nothing to investigate. We’re getting the names of all those killed and we’re taking down eyewitness reports.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Maybe a hundred: we’re still finding bodies.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Heavy fighting in the town on the nineteenth of December – house-to-house. We think our guys caused them more casualties than they were expecting as we pulled out. The locals were mostly hiding in their cellars so the Germans decided to take it out on them. From what we can gather, they lined them up against hedges and shot them. You heard what they did to our guys at Malmedy?’