by Blood
Thus, in a hypothetical situation, if Hitler were forced to choose between Bormann and Himmler, Goltz had no doubt that he would chose Bormann.
And so, even before he reported to Mart¡n Bormann's office in the Reichs-chancellery, he had decided that his SS officer's oath required that he transfer his loyalty from Himmler to Bormann. In his mind, he had no other choice.
At the same time, he had come to believe that what had begun as a selfless act of duty-bread cast onto the water-was going to pay dividends. For one thing, Hitler had often confided in Bormann his suspicions that not all cowards and defeatists were in the Armed Forces. That the Fuhrer was referring to the SS was a not unreasonable inference.
In Goltz's professional opinion, as a security man of some experience, de-featists and traitors were indeed in the highest echelons of the Army, just wait-ing for a chance to seize power, depose the Fuhrer, and seek an armistice with the enemy. It was Himmler's job, the job of the SS, to ruthlessly root these men out. He had found some. But the Fuhrer was correct in suspecting that he had not found all.
It logically followed-it was a question of numerical probability-that if there were X number of defeatists and potential traitors in the Army, then there were Y number in the Navy, Z number in the Luftwaffe, and even XX number in the SS. Goltz believed that the ratio probably was geometric. If there was one traitor in the SS, there were probably two in the Luftwaffe, four in the Navy, and eight in the Army.
In Goltz's view, Hitler might well pardon Himmler for not finding all the traitors in the Army, or even those in the Navy and Luftwaffe, but the first traitor uncovered in the SS would look to the Fuhrer like proof that Himmler was incompetent... or even disloyal himself.
And it reasonably followed that if the Fuhrer decided that Himmler could no longer be trusted, then the Fuhrer would not place a good deal of trust in Himmler's immediate underlings either. If Himmler was deposed-and this was far from inconceivable, if one remembered Rohm (On Hitler's orders, Ernst Rohm, one of his oldest friends and head of the Sturmablietung (SA). was murdered by the SS June 30, 1934, on "The Night of the Long Knives.")-so would be those im-mediately under him.
And who would be better qualified to replace Himmler than Standarten-f�hrer Josef Goltz, who had not only been in the SS at senior levels long enough to know how that agency should operate, but who all along-literally since the days of the Burgerbraukeller in Munich-had been the trusted intimate of the faithful Mart¡n Bormann?
The Mercedes stopped at the first of the entrances to the Fuhrer compound. Obviously, the Hauptsturmf�hrer at the gate in the outer wire had telephoned ahead not only to Bormann's office, but to the SS officer in charge of Fuhrer compound security; for an Obersturmfuhrer (First Lieutenant) was waiting for him.
"Heil Hitler!" he barked. "It is good to see the Herr Standartenf�hrer again."
"Well, look who's here!" Goltz said, although he did not remember meet-ing the tall, good-looking Obersturmfuhrer before. "How have you been?"
"Very well, thank you," the Obersturmfuhrer said. "If you'll come with me, Sir, I will escort you to Reichsleiter Bormann's office."
"How kind of you," Goltz said, and followed him into the Fuhrer com-pound, this time returning the guard's salute with an equally impeccable straight-armed salute.
[THREE]
Walfsschanze
Near Rastenburg, East Prussia
2200 5 April 1943
There were, of course, no windows in Bormann's office. Behind the oak panel-ing was several feet of solid concrete. On one wall hung an oil portrait of the Fuhrer. Facing it on the opposite wall was a monstrous oil painting of the moun-tains near Garmisch-Partenkirchen. It had been a gift to the Fuhrer, and he had given it to Bormann.
"I'm really sorry I kept you waiting, Josef," Reichsleiter Mart¡n Bormann said, sounding as if he meant it. As he spoke, he stepped from behind his desk to greet Standartenf�hrer Goltz. "How was the trip?"
Bormann was a short and stocky man, wearing a brown Nazi party uniform decorated only with the swastika brassard on his right sleeve and the Blood Or-der insignia pinned to his right breast. (The Blood Order decoration, awarded to those who participated in the-failed-1923 coup d'‚tat in Munich, was of red and silver, surmounted by an eagle, showing a view within an oak-leaf wreath of the Feldherrnhalle in Munich, and bore the legend "You Were Victorious.")
"Very long, Herr Reichsleiter," Goltz replied, returning the firm handshake.
"Well, at least you won't have to drive back to Berlin. I've arranged a seat for you on the Heinkel."
A Heinkel twin-engine bomber had been converted to a transport for high-speed service between Berlin and Wolf's Lair. Only six seats were available, and they were hard to come by unless spoken for by someone very high-Keitel, Goring, Bormann, or the F�hrer himself.
"Wonderful. Thank you."
"Reichsprotektor Himmler was kind enough to tell me early this morning that he had received word from Buenos Aires that a certain highly placed Ar-gentine met a tragic death at the hands of bandits," Bormann said, getting im-mediately to the point that most immediately concerned Goltz, "and that he felt you could now travel to Buenos Aires without raising any suspicions that you were personally involved."
A faint smile crossed Goltz's lips. Oberst Karl-Heinz Gr�ner, Military Attach‚ of the Embassy of the German Reich to the Republic of Argentina, had sent a radio message to Himmler reporting the death of el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade. A copy of that message was delivered to Goltz in Berlin an hour before Himmler saw it. Goltz had immediately called Bormann.
"I did not, of course, tell him that I had already received the same informa-tion," Bormann went on. "I did tell him that was good news, as I had finally re-ceived the last signature on the document, and suggested he order you here personally to pick it up. He told me that you were already en route."
"Everyone has come on board?"
"Canaris last, of course," Bormann said, smiling, and walked behind his desk, pulled open a drawer, and handed Goltz a business-size envelope. Goltz took from it a single sheet of paper, folded in thirds, and read it.
Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Hebeiterportel
Berlin 1 April 1943
The bearer, SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Josef Goltz, has been charged with the execution of highly confidential missions of the highest importance to the German Reich.
In his sole discretion, SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Goltz will make the nature of his missions known only to such persons as he feels may assist him in the execution of his missions. Such persons are-
1. Directed to provide SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Goltz with whatever support, of whatever nature, he may request.
2. Absolutely forbidden to divulge any information whatsoever concerning SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Goltz' missions to any other person without the express permission of SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Josef Goltz, including communication by any means whatsoever any reference to SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Goltz' missions to any agency of the German Reich, or any person, without the express permission in each instance of SS-SD Standartenf�hrer Josef Goltz.
Reichsleither Mart¡n Bormann Wilhelm Keitel
NSDAP Feldmarschal
Heinrich Himmler Karl Doenitz
Reichsproteckto Grand Admiral
Joachim von Ribbentrop Wilhelm Canaris
Foreign Minister Rearadmiral, Abwehr
Goltz raised his eyes to Bormann.
"A very impressive document, Herr Reichsleiter," he said. He refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. "Do I understand that I am to keep this?"
Bormann nodded.
"While you were on your way here," Bormann said, "Reichsprotektor Himmler called again, to inform me that he had obtained a seat for you on the Lufthansa flight leaving Templehof for Buenos Aires tomorrow."
Goltz put the envelope in an inside pocket of his uniform.
"You don't seem too happy to hear that," Bormann said. "Is duty about to interfere with your love life, Jo
sef?"
"I never allow duty to interfere with my love life," Goltz replied. "What you see is a mixture of anticipation, curiosity, and unease, Herr Reichsleiter."
"Unease about what?"
"I hope you're not placing too much confidence in me."
"Modesty doesn't become you, Josef. And you know how important this endeavor is."
"I will, of course, do my best."
Bormann nodded.
"1 had a thought," he said, moving to another subject, "when they told me you were at the outer wire, and again while you were waiting. Vis-a-vis von Wachtstein."
"Oh?"
"I have a feeling his son might be very useful to us. Particularly if the Generalleutnant himself were participating in the endeavor." (A Generalleutnant is literally a lieutenant general, but is equivalent to a U.S. Army-two-star- major general.) "I won't say anything to him, of course, until you have a chance to look at the situation in Buenos Aires and let me know what you think. But why don't you pay a courtesy call on him now, Josef, ask if there is something you could carry for him to his son-a letter, perhaps?"
"A very good idea," Goltz said. "I was, what shall I say, a little surprised at how close the von Wachtsteins are to poverty. If we are to believe the Generalleutnant's estate-tax return."
"Perhaps he dug a hole with his paws and buried a bone or two in it for a rainy day. After all, he is a Pomeranian."
Goltz smiled.
"While he is preparing whatever he wishes to send-give him an hour, say-you come back here and we'll talk."
"Yes, Sir."
"He's across the road, but I'll send you in my car so you won't have to walk."
"That's very good of you."
"In lieu of a drink, Josef. I'm taking dinner with the F�hrer, and I don't want to smell of alcohol."
Goltz chuckled. The F�hrer was an ascetic man who neither smoked nor drank. There was an unwritten law that those privileged to be in his presence also abstained.
Generalleutnant Graf (Count) Karl-Friedrich von Wachtstein was a short, slight, nearly bald fifty-four-year-old, the seventh of his Pomeranian line to earn the right to be called "General." Originally a cavalryman, he had joined the General Staff as an Oberstleutnant (Lieutenant Colonel) eight years before.
When war broke out, he went into Poland at that rank but assumed com-mand of a Panzer regiment when its colonel was killed in his tank turret during an unexpectedly difficult encirclement maneuver. His Polish opponent, they later learned, had instructed his troops to save their rifle fire for officers who gallantly exposed themselves in tank turrets. Afterward, he was promoted to colonel.
He went into Russia commanding a tank regiment, and was fairly seriously wounded. When Generaloberst Jodl heard this-von Wachstein had worked un-der Jodl as a major-he decided that the Army could not afford to have an un-usually bright general staff officer killed doing something as unimportant as commanding troops in combat, and ordered him back to Berlin. With the trans-fer came a promotion to Generalmajor (literally, Major General, but equivalent to a U.S. Army-one-star-Brigadier General).
Earlier this year, in February, following a shakeup in the General Staff af-ter the Sixth Army's surrender at Stalingrad, he was promoted Generalleutnant, with the additional honor of having the F�hrer personally pin on his new badges of rank.
"What the General Staff needs, Jodl," the F�hrer had said at the small pro-motion ceremony in his bunker, "is more general officers like Graf von Wacht-stein and myself-men who have been exposed to fire."
Hitler had won the Iron Cross First Class-an unusual decoration for a lowly corporal-in the First World War, and was fond of reminding his gener-als that, unlike many of them, he had been tested under fire.
"Hello, Goltz," von Wachtstein said, returning Goltz's salute with an equally casual raising of his arm from the elbow, palm extended. "What can I do for you, beyond offering you coffee?"
"Coffee would be fine, Herr Generalleutnant," Goltz replied. "It was a long ride from Berlin."
Von Wachtstein mimed raising a coffee cup to his lips to his chief clerk, Feldwebel (Technical Sergeant) Alois Hennig, a tall, blond twenty-two-year-old.
"Jawohl, Herr Generalleutnant," Hennig said, and left them alone.
"Reichsleiter Bormann is in conference," Goltz said. "I thought I would pass the time paying my respects to you."
"Bormann is a busy man," von Wachtstein said.
"I'm about to go to Buenos Aires."
"I'd heard something about that."
"I thought of your son, of course, when I received my orders."
"I'm sure he would be delighted to show you around Buenos Aires," von Wachtstein said. "By now I'm sure he is familiar with everything of interest. Most of that, unless he has suddenly reformed, will be wearing skirts."
"He does have that reputation, doesn't he? Have you heard from him lately?"
"Not often. The odd letter. He was apparently asleep in church when they went through that 'Honor Thy Father' business."
Goltz chuckled.
"And then the mail is erratic, isn't it? I thought perhaps I could carry a let-ter for you."
"That would be very kind, but irregular," von Wachtstein said.
"Even if it came to anyone's attention-and I can't see how it would-I don't think there would be any serious questions about someone in my position doing a small service to an old friend."
"I would be very grateful, Goltz, but I don't want to impose on our friend-ship."
"It would be no imposition at all."
"When are you leaving Wolfsschanze?"
"Whenever the Heinkel leaves. The Herr Reichsleiter got me a seat on it."
"There is something," von Wachtstein said. "In one letter he complained that he has only one set of major's badges..."
"That's right, he was promoted, wasn't he?"
"... and spends a good deal of time carefully moving them from one uni-form to another. I could probably get a set or two here...."
"I'd be delighted to carry them to him."
"Thank you."
Feldwebel Hennig appeared with two cups of coffee on a wooden tray.
"The African coffee, Herr Generalleutnant," he said. "Unfortunately, about the last of it."
"You're a bright youngster, Hennig," von Wachtstein said. "I have every confidence that you will be able to steal some more somewhere."
"I happen to have a source of coffee, good coffee," Goltz said. "I'll tell my office to send you a couple of kilos with the next messenger."
"And I was not really glad to see you, Josef, when you walked in here. I shamelessly accept."
"Friends should take care of one another, shouldn't they?"
"A noble sentiment."
As Hennig was setting the tray down, one of the three telephones on von Wachtstein's desk rang. Hennig moved to answer it but stopped.
"It's the red line, Herr Generalleutnant," he said.
A red-line telephone-so called because the instrument was red-was an-other symbol of status in Wolfsschanze. There were only fifty red-line instru-ments. The special switchboard for these had been installed so that Hitler and very senior officials could talk directly to one another without wasting time speaking to secretaries. Those who had red-line telephones were expected to answer them themselves.
"Heil Hitler, von Wachtstein," he said, picking it up.
"Canaris," the Chief of the Abwehr identified himself. "I understand Standartenf�hrer Goltz is with you?"
"Yes, he is. One moment, please, Herr Admiral," von Wachtstein said, and handed the phone to Goltz. "Admiral Canaris."
"Yes. Herr Admiral?" Goltz said, listened a moment, and then said, "I ask the Herr Admiral's indulgence to finish my cup of the Herr Generalleutnant's excellent coffee." There was a pause, and then, chuckling, "I'll tell him that, Herr Admiral. Thank you."
He handed the telephone back to von Wachtstein.
"Admiral Canaris said that if you have excellent coffee, you have the only excellent coffe
e in Wolfsschanze, and it is clearly your duty as an old comrade to tell him where you found it."
"Actually, Peter got that for me in North Africa. He ferried a Heinkel over, and brought that back with him."