The Honor of Spies

by W. E. B. Griffin; William E. Butterworth; IV

  The only question in von Wachtstein's mind about Jeschonnek's sui - cide was whether he had killed himself out of shame for failing to protect Peenemunde, or because nearly one hundred of his fighter pilots were dead because of his orders, or whether he did so rather than face Adolf Hitler's legendary wrath.

  On his way back to the Fuhrerhauptquartier bunker, von Wachtstein wondered if Keitel had any inkling at all of the contempt von Wachtstein felt for him. And he felt that not only because the man--referred to by his colleagues as Lakaitel ("Little Lackey") and as the "Nodding Donkey"--was sending him to face Hitler's wrath.

  Von Wachtstein considered Keitel a disgrace to the German officer corps. While Hitler had appointed himself Oberster Befehlshaber der Wehrmacht--Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces--it was still clearly the duty of his officers to advise him when they thought his judgment was wrong. Keitel never disagreed with anything Hitler decided.

  Stalingrad was an example. Keitel never said a word when von Paulus, nearly out of ammunition and reduced to eating his horses, had requested permission to fight his way out of his encirclement, but Hitler instead ordered him to fight to the last man. Hitler had then promoted von Paulus to field marshal and pointedly told him that no German field marshal had ever surrendered, a clear suggestion that von Paulus was honor bound to commit suicide.

  The result of that had been 150,000 German soldiers dead and 91,000 captured--von Paulus among them--when the Red Army ultimately and inevitably triumphed.

  Von Wachtstein knew that not only had Keitel tacitly approved the horrors that Himmler's death squads had visited on Russian soldiers and civilians, but that he had personally ordered that French pilots flying in the Normandie-Niemen fighter regiment of the Soviet air force not be treated as prisoners of war when captured. He ordered them summarily executed.

  Von Wachtstein thought again that Keitel--not Adolf Hitler himself--was the real reason he had joined Operation Valkyrie. Hitler was in power solely because Keitel and the clique that surrounded him kept him in power. If Keitel survived the attempt on Hitler's life, von Wachtstein would happily shoot him himself, or preside over the court of honor to strip him of his field marshal's baton before standing him against a wall. Or, better yet, hanging him.

  SS-Obersturmfuhrer Otto Gunsche, a very handsome blond man in his early twenties, who was Hitler's personal adjutant, was sitting on a Louis XIV chair outside Hitler's living quarters, obviously waiting for the Fuhrer to appear.

  "Gunsche, would you please ask the Fuhrer to receive me? It's quite important."

  "Jeschonnek?"

  "Has he heard?"

  Gunsche shook his head.

  "One moment, Herr General, I will ask."

  A moment later, Gunsche waved von Wachtstein through the door to Hitler's living quarters.

  Hitler was sitting on a Louis XIV couch, holding a Meissen teacup in his hands.

  Von Wachtstein gave the Nazi salute as SS-Obersturmfuhrer Otto Gunsche stepped to a corner.

  "Good morning, my Fuhrer," von Wachtstein said.

  Hitler returned the salute with a casual wave of the hand.

  "Gunsche said it was important."

  "My Fuhrer, I regret to inform you that Peenemunde suffered severe damage yesterday afternoon."

  "So I have heard."

  "And a great many of our fighters were shot down yesterday near Berlin."

  "How many is 'a great many,' von Wachtstein?"

  "Approximately one hundred, my Fuhrer."

  "How did that happen?"

  "They were mistaken for American fighters, my Fuhrer."

  "Who made that mistake?"

  "General Jeschonnek ordered the attack, my Fuhrer."

  "Gunsche, get General Jeschonnek in here."

  "My Fuhrer, General Jeschonnek took his own life just after midnight," von Wachtstein said. "By pistol shot."

  Hitler looked at him.

  "I presume Reichsmarschall Goring has been informed?"

  "Yes, my Fuhrer," von Wachtstein said.

  "And where is the reichsmarschall?"

  "In Budapest, my Fuhrer," von Wachtstein said. "He is experiencing some technical difficulty with his aircraft. He expects to be able to get here sometime after three this afternoon."

  "How is it that the reichsmarschall learned of this before I have?"

  "My Fuhrer, Generalfeldmarschall Keitel has directed me to contact the reichsmarschall, inform him of General Jeschonnek's death, and to relay the generalfeldmarschall's suggestion that Reichsmarschall Goring come here as soon as possible."

  "I see," Hitler said. "Oh, how well I see."

  And here is where I get to feel the wrath.

  "Is there anything else you have to tell me, General von Wachtstein?"

  "No, my Fuhrer."

  "Then that will be all, von Wachtstein."

  "Yes, my Fuhrer."

  Am I somehow going to escape the wrath?

  Von Wachtstein saluted and walked toward the door.

  "Gunsche, find Parteileiter Bormann and ask him to come see me im mediately."

  "Jawohl, my Fuhrer."

  "Von Wachtstein!" Hitler barked.

  Von Wachtstein, who was almost at the door, stopped and turned.

  "Yes, my Fuhrer?"

  Now I get the wrath.

  "It is not true, General von Wachtstein, that I always lose my temper with the bearer of bad news. Sometimes I understand why the bearer is the bearer."

  He made an impatient gesture of dismissal.

  Von Wachtstein did an about-face and left.

  [TWO]

  Aboard Fuhrerhauptquartier Flug Staffel No. 12

  Near Rastenburg, Germany

  0655 19 August 1943

  Although there was room for ten in the passenger compartment of the twin-engine aircraft, there were only three men in it.

  One of them, Rear Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, a short fifty-five-year-old whose face was just starting to jowl, and who was chief of the Abwehr--Intelligence Division--of the German Armed Forces High Command, was privately--very privately--amused at the situation.

  Among the most senior officers of the Nazi hierarchy, the competition was fierce for any seat on a "Hitler Squadron" Heinkel 111 flying from Berlin to "Wolf 's Lair."

  Almost as intense, Canaris thought, as the competition to get a seat beside--or even near--Der Fuhrer in his car or at dinner.

  And since the last thing I want is to go to Wolfsschanze or have dinner with the Bavarian Corporal, here I am on my way to Wolfsschanze almost certainly to have to eat at least lunch with him, and leaving behind me at Tempelhof Field ten furious very senior officers who thought they had successfully competed in the race for a seat on the eight o'clock flight.

  And they can't be angry with me, either. For when they make inquiries, they will be told that SS-Obersturmfuhrer Otto Gunsche had called, announcing that I was on my way to Tempelhof, and the moment I got there, I was to be put aboard the Heinkel, which would then immediately depart for Wolfsschanze.

  When the young and junior officer spoke, as a number of senior officers had learned to their pain, he spoke with the authority of the Fuhrer.

  Gunsche had called Canaris earlier:

  "Heil Hitler! Obersturmfuhrer Gunsche, Herr Admiral. The Fuhrer requests your presence at your earliest convenience, Herr Admiral. An aircraft will be waiting for you at Tempelhof. May I tell the Fuhrer that you are hastening to comply with his request, Herr Admiral?"

  With Canaris in the plane--a converted bomber, or more accurately one of Germany's first (1934) commercial transport aircraft, which had been converted into a bomber and then, to move senior officials around, converted back to an airliner--were two officers. One was Canaris's deputy, Fregattenkapitan Otto von und zu Waching, a small, trim, intense Swabian. The other was Oberst - leutnant Reinhard Gehlen, also trim and intense, but larger in stature than von und zu Waching. Gehlen, the senior intelligence officer of the German General Staff on the Russian front, had been in Canaris's of
fice when Gunsche had called.

  There were several reasons Canaris had brought Gehlen along on the trip to Wolfsschanze. It was entirely likely Hitler would like to talk to him, for one. For another, he hadn't had enough time to talk to him before Gunsche had called; Gehlen had returned to Berlin only late the night before. But the most important reason was that the opportunity to show Gehlen the inside of Wolfsschanze seemed to have been dumped in his lap.

  Gehlen was an Operation Valkyrie conspirator. More than that, he had volunteered to give his own life if that was what it would take to remove Hitler. The only way Canaris could see to kill Der Fuhrer was to do so at Wolfsschanze, and obviously, having access to the Fuhrerhauptquartier would be necessary to accomplish that.

  The compound was protected by the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler Regiment of the SS. They made sure that no one who could possibly put Hitler, or any of the other members at the top of the Nazi power structure, in any danger could get near any of them.

  Canaris motioned for Gehlen to come to his seat.

  When Gehlen was squatting in the aisle beside him, Canaris said, "I didn't have time to ask, Gehlen, but are you acquainted with Oberstleutnant Wilhelm Frogger, late of the Afrikakorps?"

  "I know who he is, Herr Admiral."

  "There was an interesting message from Mexico City overnight," Canaris said. "The guards at border crossings from the United States have been alerted to look for him. He has apparently escaped from the prisoner-of-war camp in Mississippi and may be trying to get into Mexico."

  It is equally possible, Canaris thought, since there have been virtually no other escapes from POW camps in the United States, that Frogger said something he should not have--or approached, tried to recruit--the wrong person in the POW camp, and, following an ad hoc, secret, middle-of-the-night court-martial, was convicted of being a traitor, executed, and buried.

  Gehlen did not reply.

  "I didn't know him well," Canaris went on, "but he never struck me as the sort of chap who would succeed in something like escaping from a POW cage."

  "I don't know what to think, or say, Herr Admiral," Gehlen said.

  "It has been my experience, Gehlen, that if you don't know what to think, it is best to think some more, and if you don't know what to say, it is best to say nothing."

  Canaris turned his attention to his briefcase, and Gehlen knew he had been dismissed.

  Among senior intelligence officers, there was a saying: "One should not listen to what Canaris says; one should pay attention to what he does not say."

  There were four Heinkel 111s parked at the airfield. One was always kept there against the unlikely possibility that the Fuhrer might suddenly decide to go to Berlin or Berchtesgaden or Vienna. The other three aircraft suggested to Canaris that the three most powerful men in the Nazi hierarchy--Hermann Goring, Heinrich Himmler, and Martin Bormann--also had been summoned to Wolfsschanze. They were the only officers important enough to have their own aircraft kept waiting for them.

  Goring had the grandest title. He was Reichsmarschall des Grossdeutschen Reiches. He was the most popular--after Hitler, of course--with the people. But he had failed to bomb England into submission, and later to protect Germany from American and British bombers. Moreover, he had become the next thing to a drug addict, and tales circulated of homosexual orgies at Carinhall, his hunting estate in the Schorfheide Forest north of Berlin, and his influence had suffered.

  Canaris knew that many of the rumors about Goring's sexual proclivities and drug addiction had been, if not invented, then circulated by the man everyone agreed was the most dangerous senior Nazi, Heinrich Himmler. He had two titles: He was Reichsprotektor Himmler and Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler. And, playing on Hitler's distrust of his generals, Himmler had managed to create his own army--thirty divisions strong--called the Waffen-SS.

  The third man likely to have traveled to Wolfsschanze in his own Heinkel, Martin Bormann, also had two titles. Originally, he had been the Parteileiter of the Nazi party, running it as Hitler's deputy, and answering only to him. Recently, without objection from the Fuhrer, he had started referring to himself as Reichsleiter Bormann, suggesting he was leading the Reich, not only the political party, and again subordinate only to Hitler.

  And if those three--or only two of them--were there, Canaris reasoned, then chances were good that so was the clubfooted minister of public enlightenment and propaganda, Paul Joseph Goebbels, Ph.D.

  He probably caught a ride with Bormann. Or Gunsche commandeered a Heinkel for him as he did for me.

  Four vehicles--a large Mercedes open sedan and three Kubelwagens, militarized, canvas-topped versions of the Volkswagen--came to meet the Heinkel as ground handlers showed the pilot where to park. An SS-hauptsturmfuhrer was standing in the front seat of the Mercedes. Nine storm troopers under an SS-oberscharfuhrer, all armed with Schmeisser machine pistols, got quickly out of the Kubelwagens and surrounded the airplane.

  When the hauptsturmfuhrer saw that his men were in place, he gestured rather imperiously to the sergeant to go to the airplane. He then got out of the Mercedes and walked to the Heinkel.

  The door in the fuselage opened and Canaris came out.

  The hauptsturmfuhrer and the oberscharfuhrer gave the Nazi salute. Canaris returned it with an almost casual wave of his arm and walked to the Mercedes, followed by von und zu Waching and Gehlen. They all got in.

  The oberscharfuhrer went into the Heinkel as the hauptsturmfuhrer walked quickly to the Mercedes, which started off as soon as he got in.

  They drove off the airfield to the collection of buildings and yellow-and-black-striped barrier pole guarding access to the inner compound.

  A half-dozen SS officers and enlisted men gave the Nazi salute, and one of the latter trotted to the Mercedes and opened the car's passenger doors. Canaris and the others got out. The barrier pole was raised, and they walked past it and got into another open Mercedes.

  Changing cars saved the time it would take to thoroughly search a car entering the interior compound.

  The car, a Mercedes reserved for senior officers, carried them a kilometer and a half past stark concrete bunkers and finally stopped before one of them, where another half-dozen SS officers and enlisted men, all armed with Schmeisser machine pistols, gave the Nazi salute.

  They had reached the Fuhrerbunker itself.

  Canaris, von und zu Waching, and Gehlen got out of the Mercedes and walked to a sturdy steel door, which an enlisted man pulled open just as they reached it and closed after they had passed through.

  They were now in a barren room, presided over by an SS-obersturmbannfuhrer. There was a table, and a row of steel cabinets each large enough for a suitcase. A double shelf above a coatrack held perhaps twenty uniform caps.

  The obersturmbannfuhrer gave a crisp Nazi salute and barked, "Heil Hitler!"

  Canaris again made a causal wave of his arm.

  "These officers are, Herr Admiral?"

  "They are with me," Canaris replied.

  "Regulations require I have their names and organizations, Herr Admiral, and see their identity documents."

  "Fregattenkapitan Otto von und zu Waching, my deputy," Canaris replied, "and Oberstleutnant Reinhard Gehlen, of Abwehr Ost."

  As the two handed over their identity documents, which the obersturmbannfuhrer scrutinized carefully before handing them to a clerk, who wrote the names and the date and time on a form, Canaris took his pistol, a 9mm Luger Parabellum, from its holster and laid it on the table.

  "The Fuhrer's security, Herr Oberstleutnant," Canaris said evenly, "requires that you surrender your sidearm, and any knives you might have, to these officers."

  "Jawohl, Herr Admiral," Gehlen said, and laid his pistol on the table. "No knives, Herr Admiral."

  Canaris gave his uniform cap to one of the enlisted men, who put it on the rack. Canaris then raised his arms to the sides at shoulder height.

  "With your permission, Herr Admiral," the obersturmbannfuhrer said, and patted him down.<
br />
  Gehlen and von und zu Waching went through the same routine.

  The obersturmbannfuhrer nodded at a hauptsturmfuhrer, who clicked his heels and said, "If you will be good enough to come with me, gentlemen?"

  He led them through a steel door, down concrete corridors and stairwells, and finally stopped before another steel door.

  Canaris had been here often enough to know this was not the door to where Hitler could usually be found poring over a stack of maps.

  "What's this, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer?"

  "Reichsleiter Bormann wished to have a word with you, Herr Admiral, before you are received by the Fuhrer."

  "Very well."

  "A word alone with you, Herr Admiral," the hauptsturmfuhrer said.

  Canaris nodded and went through the door. Bormann was not there; the room was empty and unfurnished.

  Is this a trick to get me in here?

  What happens next?

  The Bavarian corporal and half a dozen of Himmler's thugs rush in to knock me to the floor?

  Then Hitler looks down at me and says, "We know all about Valkyrie. I wanted to spit in your traitorous eyes before I turn you over to the SS"?

  The door opened and Martin Bormann entered and closed the door.

  "I'll have to make this quick, Canaris. He knows you're here."

  "What's this all about, Bormann?"

  "Early this morning, he sent for me. I found out later that he'd just heard Jeschonnek blew his brains out."

  "What did he want?"

  "He said he was worried about Operation Phoenix."

  "Himmler told him how they blundered again over there?"

  "No. He doesn't know about that, and I'm not going to tell him. What he said--he was quite emotional--was that 'if things go badly' he and his senior officers will of course fight to the death in Berlin. But that it was important that National Socialism survive, and that meant some of its 'relatively senior officers'--he mentioned von Wachtstein, which surprised me, until I learned that Keitel had sent von Wachtstein to tell him about yesterday's disaster.