by Daniel Wyatt
Hitler pounded his desk with the flat side of his palm, then calmed himself in order to speak. “Arrest him, that’s what! Send a telegram to him at once, informing him that his actions are high treason to the Party and its leader and that the penalty should be death.”
Bormann’s eyebrows raised a notch. “Death, mein Fuehrer?”
Hitler waved his hand. “But due to his earlier services to the Party, that will not be the case. He must resign at once. Tell him that all I require from him is a yes or no. Send it.”
Bormann wrote out the telegram as his leader required and sent it off, signing Hitler’s name to it. Then, thinking about it more, he sent off a second message, also under the Fuehrer’s name.
DECREE OF 6.29.41 IS RESCINDED BY MY SPECIAL INSTRUCTION. MY FREEDOM OF ACTION UNDISPUTED. I FORBID ANY MOVE BY YOU IN THE DIRECTION INDICATED BY YOU.
Lubeck, Germany
They heard the rumble overhead nearly an hour before midnight and ran to the cellar below the Swedish Embassy. Electricity cut off, on candlelight only, Count von Bernadotte of the Swedish Red Cross and Heinrich Himmler waited out the bomber raid. They did not emerge until midnight. Still by candlelight, they continued their negotiations in the Count’s study, their fifth meeting since the early part of the year.
Himmler was exhausted and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Hitler is determined to die in his bunker,” he said to von Bernadotte. “Therefore I came to cut my own peace terms as I see fit.”
“Go on.”
“Due to your excellent connections, I need you to send a message through your government to Eisenhower. In order to stop unnecessary further bloodshed, you can tell him that I — the military power in northern Germany, Norway, Scandinavia, Holland, and military leader of the Army Group Vistula — will hereby surrender my forces to Eisenhower on the western front to allow the Anglo-American forces to march east, before the Russians move in. Furthermore, I have in custody a team of scientists that are sure to be of use to the Americans in the future.”
“Where are they?”
“Confined to a set of army barracks near Oberammergau, in the Bavarian Alps, only a few miles from the Austrian border.”
“Is that so? Well, then, I want you to do something for me.”
“What is it?” Himmler asked.
“All Scandinavian prisoners must be set free, immediately. Before I even contact my government.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes,” von Bernadotte insisted.
“Agreed. I will also be willing to talk with the Swedish section of the World Jewish Congress to liberate all those Jews under SS control. I will let bygones be bygones.”
Von Bernadotte stared at the man in black. “That is very big of you, I’m sure, seeing that it was you who imprisoned them.”
Himmler shook his finger. “I was only following orders.”
“As you say.”
“It’s true. I was following orders. Written orders. Do you know who from?”
“Who?”
“Hitler’s secretary, Martin Bormann. He’s the one responsible for millions of deaths. He and the Fuehrer put it all together to eliminate a race, to do away with undesirables. And I can prove it. I have the documentation. You can tell that to the Americans and the World Jewish Congress. In fact, please do.”
“Perhaps, I will.”
“Good.” Himmler stood. “I must go.”
They shook hands and Himmler left in his armour-plated Mercedes.
Berlin — April 24
Into the early morning hours, Bormann was beside himself. Now Hitler wanted to draft another telegram to Goering to say that the Luftwaffe leader was too feeble to act on Germany’s behalf, with no further mention of treason or death penalty. Bormann wheeled into the communications room and sent off his own message to the SS commandant at Obersalzberg, near Goering’s mountain chalet. The commandant’s orders were to arrest Goering and shoot him.
Finished, Bormann sat back. Should the time come, he’d have to explain how Goering had died.
Berchtesgaden
At daybreak, Standartenfuehrer Frank of the SS entered Goering’s chalet and said, “Herr Reichmarshall, you are under arrest on orders from Berlin. High treason.” He then pushed a single bullet into a pistol, set it on the night table, and left the Luftwaffe leader standing there at the entrance in his night robe.
It was obvious to Goering that one option was to take his own life. Watching the SS officer stepping into his auto, the Reichmarshall realized without a doubt that Bormann had stabbed him in the back.
The little boot-licking kiss-ass hadn’t changed. A Bormann guarantee meant nothing.
Berchtesgaden — April 25
When the commandant returned the next morning with a detachment of SS guards, he was amazed to find Goering very much alive and waiting for him upstairs in full uniform.
“Well,” Goering said, “what did you expect?”
Flicking his wrist, Frank turned to his guards, who began to raise their guns.
Then the air-raid siren blared. Explosions rocked the chalet, sending everyone to the floor. Wall plaster crashed down. During a brief pause, one guard groped for a window. The sound of engines came upon them quickly. “American bombers! Here come some more!”
“Run for the basement!” Goering yelled, over the roar. “This way!”
The raid was over in minutes. Goering and the SS men emerged from the cellar. Stunned, they looked at each other and the surroundings. The chalet was completely destroyed.
Berlin
Bormann received the telegram from Frank. So Goering had escaped a bombing raid and was presently in the SS’s custody, was he. At least he was out of the way. Bormann crumpled the paper and threw it in his office trashcan. He would order Frank to keep him there, and guard him. Bormann was suddenly reminded of the day the news had broke of Rudolf Hess’s departure.
Hess’s adjutant, Karlheinz Pintsch, had arrived at Hitler’s Berghof hideaway in the mountains with the information that Hess had upped and flown to Scotland to talk peace with the British. The first person Hitler had screamed for was Martin Bormann, then Hess’s Chief of Staff. He had rushed into Hitler’s room. The Fuehrer ordered Bormann to reach Goering, Ribbentrop, Himmler, and Goebbels by the fastest means possible, and to confine all guests to the upper floor. Bormann obeyed. Minutes later, with great pride, his parting words to Pintsch before the SS whisked him away were, “Captain Karlheinz Pintsch, you are under arrest. You will be held at Obersalzberg until a court of inquiry can be held into your part in the events of today. Heil Hitler.” With Hess gone, it was the beginning of Bormann’s rise to power as Hitler’s confidant.
Now, four years later, high-ranking Goering was out of the picture.
Himmler was on the run. The SS men guarding the scientists would surely desert Himmler because they had sworn an oath to Hitler.
Goebbels would stay in Berlin to the end. The idiot.
Next... Hitler.
Bormann thought of his wife, Gerda, and their children. They too were at Berchtesgaden, not far away from Goering’s estate. Bormann shut the door inside his office and telephoned an SS officer he knew at Berchtesgaden.
“Wilhelm, it is I, Bormann, at the Fuehrerbunker.”
“Yes, Herr Reichsleiter.”
Bormann took a deep breath. “I need to know, did my house make it through the bombing raid?”
“No, Herr Reichsleiter. It did not. But your family is all safe.”
“Good. Listen to me closely. Get them out of there.”
“How? What should I do?”
“Send them to the Austrian border in a Red Cross bus.”
“I understand. That could work, yes. What is your situation there in Berlin, Herr Reichsleiter?”
“In peril. The city is surrounded by the Russians.”
“And the Fuehrer? How is he?”
Bormann took another deep breath. “Alive. Just barely, that is. Living on drugs and chocolates.”
Bern — April 26
Allen Dulles rose from his padded chair and plunked himself on the edge of his desk to square away with Tom McCreedy and Wesley Hollinger.
“Gentlemen,” the OSS Director began. “I called you here to tell you that some news may break in the next couple days concerning separate peace negotiations between the Germans and General Eisenhower. Gestapo leader Heinrich Himmler has been in touch with the Swedes, who are his intermediaries, claiming that he will, and I quote,” — Dulles eyed a sheet of paper in his hands — “in order to stop unnecessary further bloodshed I will surrender my entire military forces of northern Germany, Norway, Scandinavia, Holland, as well as Army Group Vistula to General Dwight D. Eisenhower. Unquote. He has also consented to free all the Jews under SS control.”
McCreedy and Hollinger shot glances at each other.
“What you won’t hear in the news,” Dulles continued, “is that a unit of SS guards has Wernher von Braun and his team of scientists in custody at a German army camp not far from here in Bavaria, a place called Oberammergau. Whether they — the scientists, that is — have the blueprints for their weapons is not certain.”
“So the team is Himmler’s insurance, his ticket out?” Hollinger asked.
“You guessed it,” Dulles replied. “At least he thinks it’s his ticket out.”
“I see. So, when do we move in?”
“When Patton takes the area. It’s only a matter of time, Mr. Hollinger.”
Hollinger had heard plenty of that before. He was bored in Switzerland. He’d rather be back in England with his pregnant wife. Nothing was happening here. Only talk. “How much time?”
“Days. Berlin will fall shortly. The Russians are within artillery range of the Chancellery, where Hitler and some of his faithful are holding in their fortified bunker. When Berlin goes, so goes Germany. Germany capitulates, then you two, representing the OSS, are going to find the scientists.”
“Bormann — how goes it with him?” McCreedy wanted to know.
“No word. As far as we know, Bormann’s still alive, according to our OSS shortwave people in Germany. So’s Hitler. So’s Goebbels. So is Goering. Another thing about Bormann: Himmler claims that it was Bormann behind the Jewish concentration camp murders, and that he — Himmler — has the written proof, orders handed down from Hitler’s office, signed by none other than our pal, Martin Bormann.”
Hollinger grunted. “Does this mean we won’t be cutting a deal with Bormann?”
“Right again,” Dulles answered, without expression. “If this news gets out, it will change things dramatically. Hopefully, we can obtain the blueprints on our own, without Bormann, who our office now considers a war criminal, and who will be tried as such, providing we can get him before the Russians do.”
“You don’t suppose Bormann suspects Himmler’s motives do you?”
Dulles thought about that. “If he doesn’t at this time, he will when the news breaks of Himmler’s plans to free the Jews.”
“You seem certain that the news will break, sir,” Hollinger concluded.
Dulles nodded. “It’s a way of flushing Bormann out. Divide and conquer. Hitler’s been using it for years. This time it’s our turn.”
McCreedy pursed his lips. “Then, sir, I presume that you don’t expect Bormann to show up at our rendezvous point to take him to Switzerland?”
“No, I do not. I think he knows we’re after him. Otherwise, we would have gotten out of Berlin by now. Last I heard, the city’s surrounded.”
* * * *
Later, walking in the hall, McCreedy leaned into Hollinger. “We had Bormann pegged right, didn’t we. He was trying awfully hard to convince us that Himmler was responsible for the concentration camps. Do we know what’s going on, or not?”
They turned a corner and took a flight of stairs down. “Yeah,” Hollinger admitted. “We know what’s going on. Ah, hell, they’re probably both to blame, anyway.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’ll drink to that.”
“I bet you will. But these are working hours, Tom.” Hollinger felt for his wristwatch. “It’s not even ten o’clock. We just had breakfast.”
McCreedy smiled. “Well, buddy boy, I guess we’re on alert. So Dulles says.”
“Yeah, let’s get this thing over with. I can’t take any more sitting around.”
McCreedy stopped Hollinger at the bottom of the stairs. “And you, Wesley, were right about something.”
“And that was?”
“This is a messy business.”
Hollinger smirked. “Wrong. I said it was a damn messy business.”
“All right, I stand corrected.”
Berlin
The once-majestic Reich Chancellery, above the Fuehrerbunker, was now being shelled at random. Bormann could hear the massive masonry walls crashing down in the garden, where he and Goering had held their many private and treasonous walks. Then, one shell landed directly above, and shook the walls of Bormann’s office. He looked up. All day long sulphur smoke and lime dust had been filling his nostrils as the bunker’s ventilators sucked the destruction inside. The warm air was fast becoming unbearable. People were perspiring. They were grouchy, and they were complaining of headaches and shortness of breath.
But nothing could be done, except to tell the Russians to stop the shelling... or the bunker could surrender. Neither seemed likely, at least not for a while.
In the evening Bormann heard footsteps in the hall. Bormann turned the corner outside his office to find the slight of frame crack woman pilot, Hanna Reitsch, in flight gear, her leather helmet in her hand, her hair a tangled mess. Reitsch was held in awe by those in the Luftwaffe. Fearless, she had been known to successfully test some of the fastest aircraft in the world, including the tricky and dangerous Me-163 rocket fighter. “Fraulein Reitsch! What are you doing here?”
“I must see the Fuehrer at once, Herr Reichsleiter.”
Bormann stood there a long time. He could see that she was determined about something. “Of course.” He turned away from her, then quickly turned back to ask, “How did you get through? The city is surrounded. The Russians are only blocks away, are they not?”
“I flew in, Herr Reichsleiter.” She smiled.
Bormann shook his head. What lunacy this was in this underground madhouse. Everybody else was deserting Berlin and she was flying in. “Very well, come with me.”
A minute later, Reitsch was pleading with Hitler face to face in his concrete study, while Eva Braun sat on a sofa across the room, sipping tea. “Mein Fuehrer, you must leave while there is still time. Why do you stay? Why do you deprive Germany of your life? You must live for your country that needs you. The people demand it. I, mein Fuehrer, can fly you out to safety.”
Hitler sighed. “I don’t doubt that you have the ability to do so. You are an outstanding pilot. But, no Hanna. If I die it is for the honour of our country. It is because as a soldier I must obey my own command that I would defend Berlin to the last. For you see, my dear girl, I believe that Berlin may be saved.”
“But how?” Reitsch asked, startled, glancing back at Bormann in the doorway.
“General Wenck is moving his troops from the south. He will drive the Russians out. You will see.” Just then, a shell burst above, shaking the bunker, causing ceiling dust to fall to the floor. Hitler handed the pilot a vial of poison from his baggy, dusty suit jacket. “Here, Hanna, take this, just in case you do not make it safely out of Berlin. We have reports of thousands of rapes in the streets.” Reitsch took the vial in her small hand and stared at it. “Mein Fuehrer—”
“No,” Hitler snapped, cutting her off before she could plead more. “My mind is made up.”
Berlin — April 28
Bormann could not believe the news at first. But, then again, why should it have surprised him? He looked down at the dispatch that had been hurried over by a lowly courier from the Propaganda Ministry across the street from the Chancellery. It
was just too incredible. The Ministry picked up a BBC broadcast stating that Heinrich Himmler had been cutting surrender plans with Eisenhower through secret negotiations with the Swedes and Count von Bernadotte. And, it seemed, the Americans weren’t considering any terms except for Unconditional Surrender.
“Thank you,” Bormann said.
The courier fled to the corridor and the dangers of the outside.
Bormann turned the communications centre shortwave to Radio Stockholm, stalling for time before he would tell the Fuehrer. He listened intently. In minutes, he got the story. So, it was true. Bormann had mixed emotions. Himmler would soon be out of the way. Another one to add to the list. Hess. Goering. Now Himmler. Bormann gritted his teeth. He still had to relay the news to his leader.
When Hitler was informed, he went into a rage that Bormann had never seen, and he thought he had seen the worst when Goering tried to seize power. It was a hard deathblow for Hitler. He screamed, stomped his feet, and turned so red in the face that Bormann thought Hitler would explode. Once he recovered, he shouted at the small crowd made up of Eva Braun, Josef Goebbels, and Martin Bormann. At least, Hitler raged, Goering had asked the Fuehrer to relinquish command. Himmler, Hitler’s most loyal of cohorts, had not even bothered to ask permission to act. He went and made plans on his own, the epitome of treachery for sure.
As he stood there in Hitler’s room, Bormann thought back. Suspicious of Himmler for the last couple of days, Bormann saw how it all made sense to him. Himmler’s liaison officer and SS representative at court, General Hermann Fegelein, brother-in-law to Eva Braun, had quietly deserted his post at the Fuehrerbunker on April 26. No one had noticed the disappearance until the next day, when a subordinate had gone looking for him. Hitler ordered an SS search party to find Fegelein, and find him they did, at home in civilian clothes in a district soon to be overrun by the Russians. Brought back to the bunker, Fegelein was stripped of his SS rank by Hitler and placed under heavy guard. In Bormann’s mind and now Hitler’s too, Fegelein had caught wind of the sinking SS ship.