17 Carnations: The Windsors, The Nazis and The Cover-Up

by Andrew Morton

  When the duke was informed that, because of the American election, he and the duchess would have to travel to the Bahamas via Bermuda, the duke was incandescent, writing petulantly to Churchill that he had been “messed about quite long enough.”

  He continued his rant by cable: “Strongly urge you to support arrangements I have made as otherwise will have to reconsider my position.” When the king’s private secretary, Alex Hardinge, read the duke’s telegram he blamed the duchess, observing, rather unfairly: “This is not the first time that the lady has come under suspicion for her anti-British activity, and as long as we never forget the power she can exert on him in her efforts to avenge herself on this country, we shall be alright.”

  As a result, just days before the Battle of Britain, the prime minister was spending precious hours as a royal travel agent, organizing the duke’s itinerary and staff. While the ducal couple were concerned about shopping in New York, his fellow countrymen were worried about their survival. With children being evacuated from London, workers travelling everywhere with gas masks, the queen learning how to fire a revolver, and the king hiding the Crown jewels in the bowels of Windsor Castle in case of an expected German parachute invasion, the duke’s demands were grotesquely self-centred. Eventually, after much back and forth, the duke agreed to sail directly to the Bahamas and Churchill allowed him to have one soldier servant released from active service.

  Hemmed in, bored, and frustrated, with every passing day the table talk of the duke and duchess grew ever wilder and more extreme, much to the delight of the Germans. The American ambassador to Portugal, Herbert Claiborne Pell, was so alarmed by their attitude that he sent a warning cable to the secretary of state, Cordell Hull, in Washington:

  Duke and Duchess of Windsor are indiscreet and outspoken against British Government. Consider their presence in the United States might be disturbing and confusing. They say that they intend remaining in the United States whether Churchill likes it or not and desire apparently to make propaganda for peace.

  It was not only American diplomats but British embassy staff who were getting reports of the duke’s increasingly eccentric thinking. For a man schooled in the arts of discretion and prudence, he was making the most tactless and incendiary statements. Word reached junior British embassy secretary Marcus Cheke via an informant that the duke was talking about his restoration, the fall of the Churchill clique, and its replacement by a Labour government that would negotiate peace terms with the Nazis. While his utterances bore remarkable similarities to the unpublished 1937 interview with the Daily Herald, Cheke cautioned that these ideas seemed to have emanated from pro-German Spaniards and Frenchmen in his company.

  By now the British watchers were hearing alarming news about a plot to kidnap the ducal couple or at least entice them back to Spain to sit out the war. When the duke, after all his complaints about being a prisoner in Portugal, asked to delay his departure by a week to give time for personal effects to be delivered from the South of France, alarm bells began ringing in Whitehall. It was feared the ex-king could be preparing to head for Spain.

  Fortunately for the British, they had a secret weapon in the form of Spanish ambassador Don Nicolás, who was indiscreet and probably in the pay of British embassy official David Eccles, the self-confessed “apostle of bribery.” Nicolás warned Eccles that Berlin was eager to see the duke and duchess return to Spain so that Hitler could use him in some way following a successful invasion of Britain. This warning was underscored by a Portuguese double agent who was passing to the British plans by the Nazis to abduct the royal couple.

  The warnings came not a moment too soon. Wary of leaving the Spanish in charge of the day-to-day organization of the plot, the Germans, with Hitler’s personal authority, dispatched to Lisbon one of their finest undercover operatives, Walter Schellenberg, the head of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD), the German foreign counter-intelligence organization. The British had every reason to fear this man. He was behind the notorious Venlo affair, in which two senior British secret agents were kidnapped in then neutral Holland. Not only did the incident destroy Britain’s espionage ring in Holland, it gave the Nazis a pretext for invading the neutral country.

  This time it was not spies Schellenberg was tasked to kidnap, but the former king of England and his wife. With Hitler’s blessing, Operation Willi swung fully into action. Schellenberg was instructed to bring the royal couple to Spain by fuelling their sense of insecurity. Once they had taken fright, he and his fellow agents were to ensure that their flight would not be impeded at the border.

  Both von Ribbentrop and Hitler viewed the duke as a man kept virtual prisoner by the British secret service who had tried but so far failed to escape their clutches. As the Führer’s personal representative, it was Schellenberg’s delicate task to make exploratory contact with the ex-king. As a sweetener he was authorized to offer the duke up to 50 million Swiss francs—about $200 million today—if he agreed to break with Britain and live in a neutral country like Switzerland.

  At his briefing in Berlin, von Ribbentrop explained to Schellenberg that the Führer would not object to him using force should the duke and duchess prove hesitant in co-operating with this plan. Before he left, Hitler telephoned Schellenberg and advised him to win over the duchess. “She has great influence over the duke,” he observed.

  Hitler placed great store by this plot, von Ribbentrop taking pains to keep him fully informed of its progress. A sheaf of yellowing papers in a tatty manila folder bearing the translated words “Material in Special Custody, 1525-1-69,” found in a Moscow archival library, the Sonder Archiv, gives a snapshot of the inner workings of the Foreign Ministry and the importance attached to the mission by the Führer.

  It also contains largely undated correspondence relating to the Duke of Windsor and von Ribbentrop, including abbreviated elements of the foreign minister’s top-secret telegrams to German ambassador Stohrer. There is, too, a partial and undated briefing for Hitler from von Ribbentrop. A brief extract gives a flavour of how closely Hitler was involved in this escapade:

  Note to the attention of the Führer

  Enclosed telegram re. Duke of W. has arrived on July 9. I have at first initiated the following arrangements:

  1) Enclosed telegram to Madrid, from which action plans are clearly apparent, furthermore telegram of W. which came in today.

  2) Positioning there of Schellenberg with his men with German embassy in Spain and xxx xxx to be at disposition. Take off Schellenberg tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Schnellenberg [sic] is with me tomorrow for briefing in xxx.

  (The briefing took place on July 24 and xxx represents unreadable words)

  Once Schellenberg arrived in Lisbon, he had little time to waste. Within a matter of hours he had eighteen Portuguese agents working for him in the vicinity of the Windsors’ house and had even managed to infiltrate a Japanese agent inside the villa where the royal couple were staying.

  At night, stones were thrown at the windows, a bouquet of flowers containing warnings was delivered, and the wife of an eminent Portuguese official added her own warning when she spoke to the duchess. Staff were bribed to say that all these bizarre occurrences were the work of the British secret service. All this was to encourage an atmosphere of fear, suspicion, and uncertainty—and to soften them up for the dire warnings to be uttered by the second emissary, former bullfighter and prominent Falangist Don Angel Alcazar de Velasco, who was due to meet the duke on Sunday, July 28, just days before they sailed.

  He was tasked to inform the duke and duchess that their lives were in peril, that the British secret service planned to murder the couple either in Portugal or the Bahamas, and that their only chance of safety was to return to Spain using the pretext of a hunting expedition to escape detection in Lisbon. His sombre warning, made on the appropriately named promontory called Boca do Inferno—the Jaws of Hell—was amplified by the contents of a letter written by their friend Duke Miguel Primo de Rivera, which was handed over t
o the duke during the tense meeting.

  Three times the duke read the letter, which, among other warnings, stated that the Spanish interior minister had information of such gravity that he could tell the duke its import only in a face-to-face conversation. The demeanour of the ex-king was understandably grave as he pondered the startling news. Given the ostracism he and his wife had faced, it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he could be singled out for assassination. (At another time, another ousted royal, the late Diana, Princess of Wales, harboured similar fears.) The duke asked for forty-eight hours to think things over.

  By now forewarned, the British had sent in the cavalry in the rotund shape of the duke’s lawyer and confidant, the bespectacled Walter Monckton. He was a welcome friendly face who, along with the duke’s comptroller Major Gray Phillips and his valet, Piper Alistair Fletcher, arrived in Lisbon just a few hours after the duke had his unnerving secret meeting with the second Spanish emissary.

  The arrival of the trio changed the mood completely. Charming, gregarious, and amusing, Monckton was always a welcome visitor, full of insider gossip and risqué stories. He was often, though, the bearer of bad tidings. This occasion was no exception, Monckton undertaking a very “odd job” on behalf of the British prime minister.

  Like Don Angel, he, too, was entrusted with a letter, this time from Churchill. It was a salutary warning, the prime minister venturing a “word of serious counsel” and “cautioning the new Governor of the Bahamas about expressing any views which were out of harmony with the British government.”

  He wrote:

  Many sharp and unfriendly ears will be pricked up to catch any suggestions that Your Royal Highness takes a view about the war, or about the Germans, or about Hitlerism, which is different from that adopted by the British nation and Parliament. Many malicious tongues will carry tales in every direction.

  Even while you have been staying at Lisbon, conversations have been reported by telegraph through various channels which might have been used to Your Royal Highness’ disadvantage. In particular there will be danger of use being made of anything you say in the United States to do you injury and to suggest divergence between you and the British Government. I am so anxious that mischief should not be made which might mar the success which I feel sure will attend your mission. We are all passing through times of immense stress and dire peril and every step has to be watched with care.

  With the sombre mood suitably set by Churchill’s letter, it was left to Britain’s “confidential emissary” to inform the duke and duchess about the imminent dangers they faced and the German plot to kidnap them. When the duke asked incredulously, “But how can we be of any use to them?” Monckton explained that in the event of a German invasion of Britain, Hitler planned to put the duke back on the throne in the hope of dividing the people and weakening their resolve to resist.

  Not to be outdone, the duke informed Monckton about the British plot to assassinate him and his wife either in Portugal or in the Bahamas. On this fateful Sunday, he was so spooked by the turn of events that he refused to divulge the source of this intelligence. It was only after Monckton agreed to telegraph London for a Scotland Yard detective to accompany the ducal couple on their voyage to the Bahamas that he finally agreed to sail.

  Once their British bodyguard was arranged, the duke sent a one-line note to Churchill confirming the departure date of August 1. It didn’t take long for the Germans to learn of the duke’s decision, Schellenberg writing in his diary the pithy phrase: “Willi will nicht” [Willi doesn’t want it]. Hitler, according to Schellenberg’s memoirs, would have none of it, ordering an immediate abduction of the ducal couple. Given the beefed-up security surrounding them, that proved impractical.

  The duke did meet with the second Spanish emissary, Don Angel, as promised two days later. His response was disappointing, at least for the Germans and Spanish. The gist of his remarks was that the time was not ripe for him to be involved in negotiations that were contrary to the orders of his government and would only antagonize his opponents and undercut his influence and prestige. He added that he could take action from the Bahamas if need be.

  Ducal doubts remained. Just the day before his departure, “a very troubled” duke secretly visited Spanish ambassador Don Nicolás for a final discussion. The diplomat urged the duke not to leave Europe, saying that Britain should have some “force in reserve with which to confront the unknown things of tomorrow. The moment may come when England will feel the need to have you once more at her head, and therefore you should not be too far away.”

  It was a subtle argument, at once flattering and sensible. He made a similar case to President Salazar, his argument reflecting the duke’s international standing:

  It has always been my impression that the Duke, despite his temperament, might be a trump for peace; I still feel he might have a role to play today, provided he is not too far away. The trumps for peace are not so numerous that they may be disregarded or allowed to be destroyed.

  A further last-ditch plea came from his great friend, the first confidential emissary Don Miguel, who flew to Lisbon to make his case for delay. He met stiff British resistance in the shape of Monckton, who demanded specific evidence of a British plot against the ducal couple. When Don Miguel asked for a few days’ delay to assemble the evidence, Monckton would have none of it. He did, though, agree with the duke’s request that when they arrived at Bermuda, Monckton would personally assure them that they were safe to travel on to the Bahamas. Such was the concern for the royal wellbeing that Churchill himself asked the Admiralty if a cruiser could be spared to convoy the passenger liner across the Atlantic. The former First Lord of the Admiralty was informed that every naval ship was needed in case the expected invasion of Britain went ahead.

  In a final throw of the dice von Ribbentrop agreed to show himself, at least through the good offices of the Windsors’ banker host, Dr. Santo Silva. In a telegram sent to Ambassador Huene he outlined the case that Dr. Silva should make to the duke.

  When Dr. Silva discussed the matter, he should refer to an “authoritative German source” rather than von Ribbentrop himself. The duke was to be told the following by Dr. Silva:

  Germany truly desires peace with the English people. The Churchill clique stands in the way of such a peace. Following the rejection of the Führer’s final appeal to reason, Germany is determined to compel England to make peace by every means of power. It would be a good thing if the Duke were to hold himself in readiness for further developments. In such case Germany would be prepared to co-operate most closely with the Duke and to clear the way for any desire expressed by the Duke and Duchess.

  He added that, if the duke still insisted on leaving Portugal, Dr. Silva should arrange a secret channel of communication so that the Germans could keep in contact. The duke’s host duly delivered this message but the duke remained adamant that he would sail.

  On the day of departure Schellenberg watched the ducal party march onboard the American Export Lines passenger ship through a pair of high-powered binoculars as he stood in the tower room of the German embassy. “It appeared so close that I seemed almost able to touch it,” he recalled. Helplessly he watched the frantic preparations for departure, which, thanks to his alarums and excursions, included the scouring of the vessel several times for possible explosive devices—or “infernal machines” as Schellenberg called them. Even hand baggage was searched.

  On the day they set sail, August 1, 1940, Hitler finally issued Directive 17 “for the conduct of air and naval warfare.” He may have lost the first round in the War of the Windsors. The Battle of Britain was going to be a different story.

  Even though the duke and duchess were now out of sight, they remained in German minds, especially after Ambassador Huene telegrammed Berlin with the duke’s reaction to von Ribbentrop’s offer.

  In his report of August 2, he described how von Ribbentrop’s words had made the “deepest impression” on the royal:

 
; He felt very appreciative of the considerate way his personal interests were being taken into account. In his reply the Duke paid tribute to the Führer’s desire for peace, which was in agreement with his own point of view. He was firmly convinced that if he had been King it would never have come to war. To the appeal made to him to co-operate at a suitable time in the establishment of peace, he gladly consented.

  The duke, the ambassador reported, had, as with the second Spanish emissary, Don Miguel, emphasized that he had to obey orders from his government and that the present moment was too early for him to make a diplomatic intervention. If this changed he was prepared to return immediately, no matter what his personal sacrifice. He agreed to remain in “continuous communication” with his host Dr. Santo Silva and agreed a code word which, if triggered, would secure his immediate return.

  The report concluded:

  The statements of the Duke were, as the confidant stressed, supported by firmness of will and the deepest sincerity, and had included an expression of admiration and sympathy for the Führer.

  While historian John H. Waller described von Ribbentrop’s message as “remarkable for its effrontery,” he pointed out that it “nonetheless elicited a response from the duke that was even more remarkable for its innuendos of serious indiscretion. While declining Hitler’s offer lest it bring about a scandal, he expressed his appreciation for it and implied that if the state of affairs changed, he would reconsider his position. This compromising document left the door open for further German intrigues with the duke.”