Out of Mecklenburg

by James Remmer

  ‘You know, don’t you?’ said Carl. ‘Me, Werner, the secret department at the Foreign Office… and, quite obviously, one of your submarines.’

  ‘I assume you’re referring to Andromeda?’ whispered von Leiber, gazing at his glass. ‘You know, I feel a little bit like Stanley, when he came across Livingstone in the darkest depths of Africa – Herr Akrobat, I presume?’

  Von Menen held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, Uncle Manfred… So, what led you to suspect me? It couldn’t have been Werner, surely?’

  ‘No, Werner was the epitome of discretion. Not once did he mention your name, or any other name, for that matter.’ Von Leiber moved forward, the leather chair creaking as he reached for the ashtray. ‘No, it was simply a matter of reasoning. You see, some months after Argentina broke off diplomatic relations with Germany, your parents were discreet enough not to mention how it had affected you. Naturally, I inquired about you, but I was circumspect enough not to put them on the spot. It was fairly obvious, however, that you did not make for Madrid, like other members of the mission. If that had been the case, you’d have got a message to your parents, but you didn’t. Then, when I thought back on your sudden and unexpected appearance in Berlin, I simply put two and two together.’

  ‘Well, it’s very hush-hush. In fact, at first, I wasn’t entirely frank about it with Mother and Father. As for you… well, I had every intention of telling you later.’

  ‘No need, Carl. The sensitivity of such matters is abundantly clear to me. In any case, I was only teasing. I’m sure you realise that.’

  ‘But there was a need for you to know. You mean a great deal to me. I’ve always looked upon you as a kind of, well… second father, I suppose. It’s a relationship I respect and cherish very dearly.’

  Von Leiber turned sideways, a sudden lump rising in his throat, his hand moving slowly across his eyes, as much to disguise his pride as to shield his mild embarrassment.

  ‘You see, Uncle Manfred, there’s every good reason why you should know.’ The smile left von Menen’s face, his tone earnestly serious. ‘Whatever the outcome, I’m not coming back. There’s someone over there I’m very fond of.’

  ‘A lady, eh?’

  ‘Yes, we’re hoping to get married.’

  ‘Well, Carl, it’s a bit of a shocker, but I really can’t say that I blame you. I wish you both every happiness.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said von Menen earnestly. ‘Anyway, on the question of U-boats, I have some interesting and perhaps welcome news for you. Werner wouldn’t have known about it when he saw you, but I can tell you now that you only have to facilitate the one incursion.’

  ‘One, two, a dozen, it doesn’t make a damn difference to me, Carl. You know my feelings about the war. My only concern is to keep as many men alive as I can and for as long as I can. In that sense I’d feel a lot happier despatching a boat to the relative safety of the South Atlantic than sending it to an almost certain watery grave in the North Atlantic.’

  At that moment, the General entered the library. The three men entered into a long discourse about the worsening situation for the German army. Given Hitler’s profound obstinacy and the fact that after three long years he had decided finally to vacate his headquarters in East Prussia, the General and Vice Admiral were at one on the opinion that “the Little Corporal” might, perhaps, force a desperate offensive in the west. They did not discount the possibility of some initial success, either, but they were adamant that it would end in disaster.

  ‘In the west, as in the east,’ said the General, ‘all the signposts for the German army are pointing towards Berlin.’ On that despairing note, he switched the conversation to matters of a family nature. ‘Any news of your mother, Manfred?’

  ‘Not since her last letter, which I received about four weeks ago.’ Von Leiber shook his head, his despondency obvious. ‘Why on earth she feels she has to stay there, I’ll never know. The smaller house at Wismar never suited her, but it was a damn sight easier for me and much less of a worry.’

  ‘That was ten years ago, Manfred. None of us could have envisaged the mess we’d be in now,’ replied the General.

  ‘True, but even then, I still had to cope with the Polish Corridor. I’m thinking seriously about going to Marienburg and bringing her back with me, forcibly if needs be. Eva has offered to look after her.’

  ‘Be very careful, Manfred. When the Russian advance gets going again…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Klaus, I’ll watch myself.’

  ‘Incidentally, hope you don’t mind me asking such a personal question… Talking about Eva…’

  But just then, Frau von Menen and Katrina walked into the room, accompanied by Eva, who had been unusually quiet throughout dinner.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ said von Leiber, sidestepping into the hall. Moments later, he returned with a bottle of chilled champagne.

  All were bemused except Eva, who seemed as though she was about to explode.

  ‘Glasses?’ asked von Leiber.

  Von Menen shot to his feet and rushed to the dining room. The cork was just leaving the bottle when he returned. Von Leiber filled the glasses and Eva handed them out.

  ‘Klaus, Anna, Carl, Katrina,’ he announced, nodding to each in turn, ‘I have something to tell you.’ The General’s jaw dropped in anticipation. ‘I have asked Eva to be my wife and… she’s accepted!’

  The General was the first on his feet, shaking von Leiber’s hand. Eva, her face aglow with happiness, became the immediate focus of attention, Anna and Katrina showering her with affection.

  ‘When’s the big day, then?’ asked von Menen.

  ‘Next Monday, 18th December, eleven o’clock.’

  The immediate celebrations over, the ladies retraced their steps to the drawing room.

  ‘Where’s it to be, then, Manfred? Berlin?’ asked the General.

  ‘No, Klaus, the Marriage Registry in Lübeck. Nothing fancy, just a simple ceremony. Naturally, we want you all there, Hans and Greta included – I take it they’ll be back by then?’

  ‘Oh, yes, they’ve only gone over to Bützow for a few days.’

  ‘There’s one other thing, Klaus. It’d mean an awful lot to me if you’d do the honours.’

  ‘Best man, you mean? I’d be proud to.’

  ‘And Carl, I know Eva would be very touched if you would give her away, so to speak.’

  ‘I’d consider it a great honour.’

  ‘The wedding breakfast, Manfred; why don’t you have it here?’ suggested the General.

  ‘Klaus, you’ve saved me the embarrassment of asking you. With Eva’s celebrity it would be far more discreet. Thank you.’

  ‘That settles it, then,’ smiled the General. ‘We’ll all come back here. If I know Hans, he’ll have all the ingredients for a veritable feast and we’ve still got two cases of champagne left in the cellar.’

  Eventually, the details following von Leiber’s unexpected announcement gave way to the one topic that had rarely been far from their thoughts.

  ‘Have you thought what you might do when the war is over?’ asked the General.

  ‘I haven’t done much else these last few months, Klaus, but I think I’ve finally reached a decision.’ Von Leiber re-lit his cigar. ‘We’re both military men, Klaus,’ he said. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, we’ll be judged in the same light as those who got us into this bloody mess in the first place. I’m not waiting around to be placed on trial for the atrocities committed by the SS – I’m going to get the hell out of it.’

  ‘What, leave Germany altogether?’

  ‘That’s right. As soon as the end is in sight, I’ll have Eva leave for her hideaway at Meersburg, on Lake Konstanz, and the moment the curtain drops, I’ll join her. When the time’s right, we’ll cross into Switzerland, make for Eva’s villa at Lausan
ne.’ He moved to the very edge of his chair. ‘Klaus, I’m very fond of all of you. Eva is, too. Her place at Lausanne is enormous. It’s your decision, of course, but you’re more than welcome to join us.’

  The General found himself not knowing what to say, the realisation of what lay ahead biting deep into his mind. Finally, he spoke, his face burdened with anxiety.

  ‘Manfred, it’s just the sort of thing I’d expect you to say, but as it happens, you’ve stolen my lines. The truth is, we’ll have to decline. You see, we’re hoping to join Carl in Argentina.’

  The two men shared a private gaze, a collective moment of nostalgia, the memories rushing back. Von Leiber broke the silence.

  ‘In that case, Klaus,’ he said, ‘I think you and I had better start enjoying ourselves.’

  At that, the General upped and made his way to the cellar to collect another bottle of champagne. In the brief interlude, von Menen stole the opportunity to resolve a question that had been on his mind since his last meeting with Werner. How von Leiber would react, he wasn’t sure.

  ‘Father would never have asked you himself, Uncle Manfred, and I sincerely hope that you will forgive me for doing so, but…’

  ‘Yes, Carl?’

  ‘Well, it’s Jürgen. You see—’

  Von Leiber zipped a finger across tightened lips and winked. ‘It’s all in hand. Not a word to your father, though. I have to speak to Jürgen first.’

  ‘But how on earth…?’

  ‘I told Werner that for a long-range incursion to succeed, we would have to use the very latest technology. With that at the back of Hitler’s mind, I knew Dönitz would never argue against it. I was right – Hitler ordered the urgent deployment of a Type XXI submarine. Something tells me that he wasn’t guided solely by my advice, though. Something else is afoot. I’m sure of it. As for Jürgen, well, in terms of working up, his boat is considerably ahead of the others.’

  25

  Saturday 9th December 1944

  Downstairs in the Steigers’ parlour, a drama of unthinkable scale was unfolding.

  ‘My God, Greta!’ cried Frau von Menen, collapsing onto the settee, ‘I think I need some smelling salts.’

  Frau Steiger flopped down beside her, her usually rosy-red cheeks turning a pale shade of grey. Her husband poured them two large glasses of schnapps. Frau von Menen took a gentle sip, then downed the rest in one. Placing her empty glass on the side table, she pressed her hands together, wedging them in the fold of her dress.

  ‘In case I might have misunderstood you, Klaus,’ she said, turning slowly to face her husband, ‘did you say “robbed the Reichsbank”?’

  Gathering himself to reply, the General sent Steiger a near-hopeless look. ‘Not in the exact sense, Anna,’ he replied, his voice labouring; ‘it was the SS who really stole it. All we did was to take some of it for ourselves.’

  ‘But how do you know that they did, as you say, steal it?’

  Flexing his nostrils, the General gulped a lungful of air, gave his wife a steadying look and said, ‘Anna, the war is lost and the Nazi hierarchy knows that it’s lost. Even as we speak, they’re trying to save their own necks, queuing up to get out of Germany and making damn fine sure that they don’t leave empty-handed. Don’t you see, apart from fulfilling their own personal lust, they need the money to finance the rebirth of the Nazi Party?’

  ‘And they’re taking more than enough to do that,’ added Steiger.

  Frau von Menen looked appealingly at Frau Steiger, searching for a ray of reality. ‘For God’s sake, Greta, tell me I’m dreaming this.’

  Frau Steiger fixed her husband with a steely look. ‘I wish I could, Anna, I wish I could.’

  ‘You do realise that if you’re caught, we’ll all be shot!’

  The General parked himself on the arm of his wife’s chair. ‘Anna, we won’t be caught, I promise.’

  ‘Definitely not,’ agreed Steiger, as he encouraged his wife to force down another glass of schnapps. ‘We’ve planned it meticulously. Nothing can go wrong.’

  Breathing deeply, Frau von Menen pushed her drained, limp torso into the back of her chair. ‘Well, at least Carl’s not involved. I suppose that’s something,’ she said. Seeing the sheepish look on the General’s face, she clasped her hands about her head. ‘Oh, my God, Klaus, you haven’t. You haven’t involved Carl, have you?’ Reluctantly, she allowed him to take hold of her hand, the General massaging it gently.

  ‘Anna, we couldn’t have done it without him.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘It’s a question of survival, and the will to survive transcends all else, you know that. If you think we’ve lost our decency, then fine, but we are going to survive. Hidden beneath the garage floor, there’s a new beginning for all of us: for Hans, Greta, Katrina, Jürgen and the baby, especially the baby. It’s our future. It’s a new start for us.’

  Frau von Menen looked pleadingly at Frau Steiger, though her question was aimed for the man she had always regarded as incorruptible. ‘And what, exactly, did you steal? Reichsmarks, Swiss francs, American dollars…?’

  ‘Gold bullion.’

  ‘Gold!’

  Frau von Menen rolled her eyes in disbelief, Frau Steiger gaping in horror, her half-empty glass of schnapps slipping from her hand and dropping to the floor. They stared at each other, a look of stupefaction on their faces.

  ‘How much?’ they cried in unison.

  ‘About half a tonne,’ said Steiger.

  Frau Steiger screwed the gold wedding band from her finger, weighing it in her hand. ‘A half-tonne of this!’

  ‘It’s not as much as you think, Greta,’ said the General. ‘It might seem a lot, but it’s only forty ingots.’

  The look on Frau von Menen’s face transformed from shock to suspicion. ‘Why are you telling us this, Klaus? There must be a reason?’

  The question rolled from her tongue and fell into the General’s lap like a four-inch artillery shell. ‘Well, er…’

  An earnest eye on his wife, Steiger raced to the rescue. ‘What Klaus is trying to say, Anna, is that we just want you to be aware of what’s happening, that’s all.’

  ‘In truth, we’d rather you didn’t know,’ said the General. ‘It’s just that there’s something we have to do, something you’d otherwise find very strange.’

  The two men were not quite sure whether it had been the effect of the schnapps, the comfort of the roaring log fire or what, but within twenty minutes, their wives’ anxiety had eased. The initial shock had passed and curiosity was burgeoning. Intrigued, they listened carefully as the two men unveiled their plan.

  Early on Sunday morning, von Menen and Steiger left for Berlin and checked in at the Savoy Hotel.

  At three o’clock, von Menen set out alone for the south-west suburb of Dahlem. A maid, on the downward side of sixty, arms like piano legs and wearing a heavily starched pinafore, answered the door.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said von Menen, hat pressed against his chest. ‘My name is Herr von Menen. I’m looking for Herr Hoffman.’

  ‘Just a moment, please.’

  Von Menen waited by the door, peering along the tree-lined avenue. A moment later, the maid returned.

  ‘Please come in, Herr von Menen.’ She showed him to the drawing room and offered him a chair. ‘Herr Hoffman isn’t here at the moment, but his mother will be along shortly.’

  Moments later, Frau Hoffman appeared, von Menen rising to his feet to meet her. He pressed her hand lightly.

  ‘After all these years, it’s very nice to meet you again, Frau Hoffman.’

  ‘Yes, it’s been a long time. You were wearing a very elegant uniform, as I recall. Please, do sit down.’ Gathering in the sides of her dress, Frau Hoffman sat beside him. ‘Ulricht mentioned that he’d seen you… Said something about you being wi
th the Foreign Office, or have I got it wrong?’

  ‘No, it’s quite true, I am with the Foreign Office – what’s left of it.’

  ‘Quite; a lot has happened these past few years.’

  ‘Yes, I… I was very sad to hear about your daughter-in-law.’

  ‘That’s the war for you, Carl. These days, everyone has someone to grieve about.’

  ‘Of course. Anyhow, I just dropped by on the off-chance of seeing Ulricht. Obviously I’ve picked the wrong day.’

  ‘Yes, he left for Madrid yesterday; should be back sometime next weekend. Is there anything I—?’

  ‘Er… no, thank you. It was a social call, really. He asked me to keep in touch… Since I happened to be in Berlin, I thought I’d call round. I did try phoning, but’ – he shrugged – ‘well, you know what the phones are like.’

  ‘I believe he wrote to you the other day. In fact…’

  She paused, reached for a bell at the side of her chair and jingled it a couple of times. A faint knock on the door and the maid walked in.

  ‘Gertrude, did you post that letter, the one which Ulricht left?’

  ‘No, ma’am, it’s still in the hall.’

  ‘Good. Will you fetch it, please?’

  The maid returned and handed Frau Hoffman the envelope.

  ‘It’s for you, Carl. Since you’re here, you might as well take it with you.’

  Von Menen slipped the envelope into his pocket. ‘Thank you. I’ll read it later.’

  It was almost seven o’clock when von Menen left the blacked-out suburbs of Dahlem and set out for Kurfürstendamm. As he turned into Hohenzollerndamm, curiosity got the better of him. He pulled up by the side of the road, anxious to read Hoffman’s letter.

  Dear Carl,

  I’ve tried phoning several times, but without success. What a nightmare the phones are!