Nazi Millionaires

by Kenneth A. Alford

  As March fell away and the calendar turned to April, plans were crafted for a grand finale. It was decided that leading SS officers and soldiers, together with RSHA assets and staff, would be funneled into the Altaussee region of Austria where they would mount a spirited final defense. Scheidler’s primary duty was to arrange the transfer of SS files, liquor, and the large foreign exchange fund kept in Kaltenbrunner’s office for purchasing their luxurious gifts and personal items. Kaltenbrunner’s slush account contained about “600,000 units” in stable foreign currencies, including $100,000 American dollars. It also consisted of a fortune in gold. The precious metal was in the form of thousands of gold coins stuffed into six large cloth sacks weighing 30kg. (or sixty-six pounds) each. The loot was stuffed into silver boxes 36" long, 18" inches wide, and 24" tall. Scheidler’s task was to see that this treasure made it to Kaltenbrunner’s office in Altaussee. The pace of Scheidler’s war increased to a dizzying speed. Maps listing evacuation points, future supply depots, and other vital locations for carrying on the war were printed and distributed to select RSHA personnel. As officers and staff dispersed to carry out their orders, the various departments fragmented. Bureau VI dispersed in several directions. Some of its officers found themselves operating out of a Bavarian barracks in Franconia; others set up headquarters along the Munich-Salzburg Road or in a hotel on the way to Innsbruck.

  While staffers (in typical German fashion) continued filling out requisitions in triplicate for supplies they would never need, a special train formerly belonging to Reinhard Heydrich (which he never used), and reserved solely for RSHA use, pulled into Fürsteneck, Germany. The rail cars arrived from Thuringia for use as a mobile evacuation headquarters for Kaltenbrunner and his key officers. Few RSHA officials intended to utilize the train for official duties. Instead, the precious space was jammed with expensive furniture, food, liquor, artwork, and other valuables, all of which—together with wives and mistresses—were shuttled south into Austria. Scheidler saw to it that Kaltenbrunner’s gold and currency were safely stashed aboard.7

  As the RSHA train smoked and wound its way south toward Austria on April 22, many of the bureau chiefs and related staffers made the same journey by plane. Scheidler, however, was already in Salzburg administering to a variety of pressing concerns for Kaltenbrunner, who was laboring in his office at Altaussee. The aide-de-camp’s stress level rose considerably when a phone call was patched through to him. “The train has been almost completely destroyed by artillery fire,” crackled the voice of an RSHA officer known only to Schiedler. The rail-based caravan derailed into a smoking mess after being repeatedly strafed by American fighter planes. While disheartening, the news could not have been a complete surprise. Scheidler was well aware the Americans controlled the skies over southern Germany. Arrangements, with Kaltenbrunner’s approval, were made to transfer the boxes into a truck and haul them to their final destination. Scheidler’s orders were very specific: the gold and currency were to be sent straight to Kaltenbrunner in Altaussee; the SS files, liquor, and other supplies were to be dispatched to Schloss Glanek near Salzburg. SS Sturmbannführers (Majors) Reinhard Eimers and Lothar Kuhne were ordered to accompany the treasure and oversee its safety. The cases were off-loaded from the broken boxcars “in late April,” stuffed into a large truck, and transported to Gmunden, Austria, near Bad Ischl. There they were divided for their separate destinations. As one CIC report put it, “a mistake, either deliberate or unintentional, was made.” The files and whiskey was sent to Kaltenbrunner and the gold to Schloss Glanek, “from which it was further transported in the direction of Imst.”8

  Exactly what happened next is, according to one American intelligence officer, “somewhat vague.” As the distance between the gold and whiskey widened, Scheidler was putting distance between himself and Salzburg, which he was fleeing for Altaussee. Advancing Russian and American troops made the move unavoidable. As later witnesses testified, “a state of frenzied confusion existed.” Scheidler learned of the botched transfer when he reached Altaussee. “Knowing what a passionate rage Kaltenbrunner would fly into should he learn that the gold had not arrived, I never informed [him] of the mistake which had been made,” explained Scheidler. The end was drawing near and the adjutant knew it as well as anyone and better than most. Within a few hours or a few days the fate of the gold would be of little consequence to anyone—especially Kaltenbrunner. Events proved him right. Several days later American forces closed in on Altaussee and Kaltenbrunner fled for his life. Scheidler bolted with him. Neither man had a clue where the gold and currency ended up.9

  Until May 11, 1945, the Allies did not have any idea as to the whereabouts of Ernst Kaltenbrunner and Arthur Scheidler. That morning a leading figure of the Free Austrian Movement named Johann Brandauer walked into the 80th CIC office in Vocklabruck. He brought with him “some startling information,” one agent later remembered. A forester had informed Brandauer that Ernst Kaltenbrunner, his leading adjutant Arthur Scheidler, and two SS officers “had been seen in a cabin at a spot named Wildensee,” in the Totes Gebirge range of the Austrian Alps. Rumors as to Kaltenbrunner’s whereabouts were rampant even before the surrender took effect. Few Nazi’s ranked as high on the list for capture as the ruthless head of the RSHA. The news, which Brandauer assured the Americans was trustworthy, was welcome indeed.10

  Special Agent Robert E. Matteson, the man who had already apprehended Kaltenbrunner’s wife, “hastily arranged with Brandauer for a group of reliable mountain climbers to accompany him up to the cabin retreat.” Ten American soldiers and two officers joined the search team. Matteson was determined to catch Kaltenbrunner alive, but was also prepared to kill him rather than allow him to escape justice. His plan included donning the party in “native Austrian clothes” to facilitate an easier approach to the hiding place. His Austrian guides suggested the team depart at midnight and undertake the trek at night. The journey would consume an estimated five hours, which would position the party near the cabin before daybreak. The fugitives would probably be asleep at that time and vulnerable to a surprise visit.

  The excursion began just a handful of minutes after midnight on May 12. Five men dressed in Austrian clothing formed the vanguard and another dozen American infantrymen brought up the rear. Seventeen pairs of boots crunched the thick crust of frozen snow as the team climbed Wildensee, traversed a valley and continued on through thick timber where the white powder was piled in places thirty feet deep. The Austrian guides had judged the situation well. By 5:00 a.m. the advance party could see the cabin. By 6:30 a.m. the entire team was positioned in a skirt of timber 250 yards south of the lodge, “concealed behind the last slope of intervening ground.” The former RSHA chief was enjoying his last few minutes of sleep as a free man. Whether he was sleeping well is something that will never be known.11

  Dressed like a forester, Agent Matteson tiptoed toward the cabin. He was completely unarmed so that if he was spotted his presence would not arose much suspicion. The infantrymen were ordered to remain stationary until he reached the porch and signaled for their advance. Matteson made his way to the west side of the cabin because that side of the building was without windows or doors. Once there, he worked his way around to the cabin’s solitary door. A gloved hand tried the knob; it was locked. The few windows were also bolted tight and shuttered. He lifted his hand and knocked quietly on the door. Matteson heard only a few “indistinct groans” from within. The occupants were sound asleep. Repeated knocking, this time louder and more forceful, “aroused an SS man who, after calling out for identification, opened a shutter.”

  “Who is there?” His voice still sounded sleepy.

  “My name is Matteson. I was sent here by Frau Kaltenbrunner and Frau Scheidler with four other mountain climbers to persuade their husbands to give themselves up to the Americans.” A few seconds of silence followed.

  “I don’t know either man. You must be at the wrong cabin.” The speaker was suddenly wide awake.

  M
atteson signaled his advance team forward. He had to buy a few more seconds of time. “Please open the door so that I may ask you a few more questions,” he instructed, peeking through a corner of the shutter.

  In the semi-darkness the agent watched as the SS officer scurried across the room, withdrew a pistol from a briefcase, and tucked it into his coat pocket. He was making his way back to the window as Matteson’s four well-armed guides were making their final approach to the cabin. It was at this point, remembered Matteson, that the fugitive “sensed something was wrong and slammed the shutter closed.” Matteson signaled again and the entire cabin was quickly surrounded. To everyone’s surprise, a few minutes later the cabin door opened and the SS officer walked out onto the porch and looked around. Perhaps he thought the small group of mountaineers had left. “When he saw the troops ringed around the building, he reentered the cabin in a hurry and bolted the door,” Matteson recorded in his report. The Americans were prepared for a shootout. Kaltenbrunner and company were not going anywhere.

  “There is no need for bloodshed!” shouted Matteson. “Surrender now! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands in the air!”

  Several seconds passed in silence. Only the wind blowing through the timber stirred the solitude of the early Alpine morning. Matteson ordered the infantry to kick in the door and storm the cabin. As they moved forward and “started to push against the door … [it] was opened from the inside and four men marched out, surrendering to the patrol.”

  A thorough search of the lodge produced important “papers of both Kaltenbrunner and Scheidler,” as well as about fifty packages of “tax free American Chesterfield cigarettes, French chocolate bars, 1,500 Reichsmarks, two pistols, and a ‘burp gun,’ which had been hidden in the chimney.” There was little doubt one of the four men was Kaltenbrunner, but which one? As odd as it seems today, neither Matteson nor any of his men knew what the RSHA chief looked like. Each man was interrogated in turn. One of them claimed he was a Wehrmacht doctor named “Unterwegen,” and had papers supporting his assertion. “Another brought forth papers that also seemed authentic,” remembered Matteson. All professed ignorance as to the whereabouts of Ernst Kaltenbrunner. Within an hour the patrol, augmented by four more men, began the journey down from the mountain now “uncertain if they had apprehended the persons whom they had sought.” As they walked through the snow Matteson crafted a simple plan to determine whether the former head of RSHA was one of his captives.12

  When Altaussee was reached at about 11:30 a.m., Matteson hustled his foot column to Scheidler’s house. A brisk knock on the door brought forth Frau Scheidler, who “rushed out and planted a kiss on one of the men,” reported Matteson with smug satisfaction. “This settled the identity of Scheidler.” Now there was no doubt that one of the remaining three men was Ernst Kaltenbrunner. Matteson repeated the sly performance at Kaltenbrunner’s mistress’s house. The subterfuge “identified the phony ‘Dr. Unterwegen’ as the Intelligence Chief.” Both the adjutant and his former boss, however, remained absolutely stoic. “Neither man was willing to admit his true identity until later in the day despite the conclusive evidence,” recorded Matteson. A picture of a woman and two children was thrust in front of Kaltenbrunner, who was sitting at a desk in a CIC office. The smiling trio was his own family, lifted from his confiscated billfold.

  “We know who you are! You are Ernst Kaltenbrunner. Admit it!” demanded Matteson. As the agent later remembered, the tall man with the long, drawn and scarred face “saw the futility of holding out further.”

  “Yes. I am Kaltenbrunner,” he said quietly.

  Soon after Kaltenbrunner’s confession Arthur Scheidler came clean as well, and “the capture of two of the three worst war criminals at that time still at large in Europe was ended.” His embellishment of Scheidler’s significance in relation to the war crimes committed under the Nazi banner is easily forgiven. The faithful CIC agent had a right to be justifiably proud of his remarkable accomplishment.

  The seizure of Ernst Kaltenbrunner was a law enforcement coup worth remembering for a lifetime. The lawyer-turned-murderer had been directly responsible for overseeing the apparatus that had implemented and made possible the Final Solution. As the head of the Gestapo and other equally heinous organizations he had administered crimes against humanity on a scale never before witnessed. The blood of millions was splashed across his grotesque features. On October 13, 1946, Countess Gisele von Westarp was allowed into the Nuremberg prison to bid farewell to her erstwhile lover. She later told CIC investigators that Kaltenbrunner had told her during the visit “of the existence of two chests of gold but not their location, since Kaltenbrunner himself did not know it.”13

  Of Kaltenbrunner’s end there is no doubt. But what of the fortune ingold and currency that vanished after leaving Gmunden in the belly of a Wehrmacht army truck? The CIC in Bad Ischl searched for the boxes filled with sacks of gold in vain. Countess von Westarp herself had pleaded that the Americans do so. Kaltenbrunner was not in possession of any of the gold when he was captured. He had with him nothing more than a healthy sum of marks, a valuable watch, and a few loose jewels. Perhaps one or both of the SS officers tasked with its protection concealed Kaltenbrunner’s treasure. Conceivably they, or others, kept the secret and picked away at the contents after the war became a memory, living well in a changed world. Perhaps it was hidden away and is still waiting to be found.

  The only thing we know for sure is that Kaltenbrunner’s sacks of gold officially disappeared in the tumultuous final days of World War II.14

  Chapter 14

  “I saw a table, 2 meters long, which was entirely covered with piled-up foreign exchange and gold coins, the heap having a height of nearly half a meter.”

  — SS Oberscharführer (Technical Sergeant) Rudolph Doskoczil

  Adolf Eichmann’s Blaa Alm Gold

  Less than two weeks after Austrian investigator Hofrat Reith walked into agent Robert Kauf’s CIC office, a conference was held in Vienna to determine how best to proceed with the investigation. The June 17, 1947, meeting was overseen by Special Agent Frank P. Dierick and attended by Kauf, Reith, and Reith’s section chief, Dr. Otto Gleich. The men drove to Altaussee the next day to meet with Inspector Auerboeck, whom Reith described in glowing terms as one of his best “confidential informers.” Auerboeck, explained Reith, had been diligently working the case for almost one year. He would be able to help them hammer down the background of these stories, what valuables were buried where, and who was involved and still needed to be grilled for information.

  The conference with Auerboeck at an office in Fischerndorf (Altaussee) was extremely productive. Hours were exhausted pouring through documents and interviews. The Americans listened carefully while Auerboeck and Reith brought them up to speed regarding some of the major personalities involved and the treasures they had allegedly hidden. The more information the agents read and heard, the more obvious it became that a sizeable chunk of European wealth had been funneled into Austria at war’s end.

  One of the stories related in detail by Reith concerned another man with deep Austrian roots who had once sported a pair of miniature lightning bolts on his stiff uniform collar. He, too, had tried to abscond with gold and currency, though on a scale dwarfing Ernst Kaltenbrunner’s puny effort. The SS officer’s previous position and power had given him ready access to much of the gold and treasure generated by the implementation of the Holocaust. Unlike so many, however, he was more interested in bureaucratic mass murder by Führerbefehl (order of the Führer) than in milking the system to line his own pockets; others—the likes of Kurt Becher, Franz Konrad, and Josef Spacil—indulged in such matters. Like so many other Third Reich criminals, when the end arrived he loaded up his caravan with stolen loot and made a run, literally, for the hills. The Obersturmbannführer made it, at least for a while. His treasure, however, did not.1

  Adolf Eichmann knew what would happen to him if he was caught by the Allies. Somehow the executioner of t
he Final Solution would have to make good his escape. The final weeks of the war found him in Prague, Czechoslovakia. Remaining there or returning to Germany was tantamount to suicide; there was no hope in either place of holding out against the Russians or the Americans. What to do? Like a good upper level manager he decided to pose the question to his superior. It took several attempts before he was able to get his boss, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, on the phone. The testy head of the RSHA was mired in his own problems, but he took the time to advise Eichmann to head for Altaussee in the Austrian Alps. The eventual strategy decided upon, sketchy at best, was to retreat into the mountains with as many assets and men as possible and conduct there a last ditch stand in the hope of staving off capture—or worse. Gauleiter August Eigruber was helping prepare a command post there for the Führer, whom many expected would soon would arrive from Berlin to direct the effort. If Eichmann vacillated on the issue he did not do so for long. At worse the journey and effort would buy days or perhaps weeks of additional freedom. His wife and children lived in Altaussee, and his parents in nearby Linz, Hitler’s adoptive birthplace. That seemed to settle it. Upper Austria is where he would go.2

  As April 1945 wound down and the German Sixth Army was beginning to disband in the Aussee region, the tattered remnants of SS leadership gathered in scenic Austria for a session of collective hand wringing. Eichmann, operating now under the alias “Dr. Müller,” was prominent among them. According to at least one report he was the reputed “leader” of the resistance movement. In reality, he was the leader of a group thrown together to save his own skin. Traveling with him from Prague into Austria were an indeterminate number of Waffen-SS men, 150 Hitler Youth, and artillery pieces and other equipment including crates of weapons and a truckload or two of cargo, vigilantly guarded. The destination of this motley assemblage was the Blaa Alm, southeast of Salzburg, a small remote pasture land plateau about two miles square. The convoy made a stop at Altaussee and set up shop in the Park Hotel, a large luxury ski resort. A radio transmitter-receiver unit was erected and scattered bits of news of the outside world were received. None of it was good.3