Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences

by Frederic Martini

  Wernher spent three days in traction after the surgery. His physician expected him to stay longer, but Dornberger sent an ambulance to retrieve him, because the town and hospital would soon be captured by Allied forces. The doctor scrambled around and managed to set up an enormous, cumbersome plaster cast with a bracing strut to the waist to immobilize the arm and shoulder. Once the arm was secured, Wernher was taken to Oberjoch, where he took up residence in the Hans Ingebor, a three-storey luxury hotel near a cleft in the mountains then known as Adolf Hitler Pass. His associates from Weilheim were already there, as were many of the other engineers who had been moved from Nordhausen. General Dornberger and 150 of his soldiers were there as well.

  It was a grand setting, and the hotel had a large liquor and wine reserve that many of the men enjoyed. Sometime over this strangely celebratory period, and unknown to Wernher, Huzel and Tessmann mentioned their “special mission” to Karl Otto Fleischer, an Army business manager who had been part of Dornberger’s staff since the Peenemünde days. Whether done out of bravado or boozy comradery, it would prove to be a costly indiscretion.

  There had been quite a pruning from the heady days in early 1943, when over 6,000 of the Nazi intellectual elite were living and working together at Peenemünde. Half that number had left Peenemünde for Nordhausen and Bleicherode, only around 400 of that subset were shifted to Oberammergau, and just 150 were now safe in Oberjoch with Wernher von Braun and Walter Dornberger. But this small residual contingent of Peenemünders ended the month of April 1945 enjoying the quiet and idyllic life at their mountain resort. Von Braun, Dornberger, and the others sat around the patio enjoying drinks, talking, laughing, making grandiose future plans, and admiring stunning views of the Alps while the Russians took Berlin.

  PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE

  When the news of Hitler’s suicide129 reached him, Wernher knew that the war was essentially over. Over the previous week, he had gone over the situation with Dornberger and the rest of the team, and they had agreed that surrendering to the Americans would be their best option. The consensus was that the Americans had been pulled into the conflict through their support of the British, not because of any historic animosity to the German people. Once they knew the value of Wernher’s team, Dornberger was confident that he could write his own ticket. But they would have to be careful not to reveal too much, for the more technical information they gave the Americans, the less leverage they would have to secure the best possible deal. Their involvement in the Mittelwerk and the use of slave labor might be problematic, but that facility was hundreds of miles away, and he and Dornberger felt confident that any records linking them to that facility had been either burned or buried. As long as everyone sang the same song, their history was what they said it was, no more and no less. Although Dornberger would make decisions concerning negotiations with the Americans, Wernher would be the one to negotiate, because he was much more effective at promoting their services.

  When it was time to put their plans in motion, American forces were less than three miles down the road, just on the other side of the Adolf Hitler Pass. Dornberger didn’t think it prudent to surprise front line troops by suddenly arriving in a car convoy, as the pickets might be nervous and trigger-happy. So after some discussion, they decided to send an emissary to arrange for their surrender. Magnus von Braun was selected because he spoke the best English. He also looked young for his age (25), and in civilian clothes, he could pass as an inoffensive schoolboy.

  On the morning of 2 May, Magnus tied a white handkerchief to the handle of a bicycle and pedaled down the hill to the American lines at Schattwald. He was stopped by a sentry, PFC Frederick Schneikert, of the 44th Infantry. Magnus imperiously demanded to be taken to see General Eisenhower, but he had to settle for the Schneikert’s superior officer. When Magnus explained that he was there to arrange the surrender of Wernher von Braun and the V-2 rocket team, he was placed under guard and driven to the counterintelligence headquarters in Reutte for interrogation. The interrogating officer could scarcely believe what he was hearing — it sounded too good to be true. There were teams all over Germany looking for these guys. Although he had some reservations, he gave Magnus a safe conduct pass that would cover the entire group. Magnus was taken back to his bicycle, and he pedaled back up the hill toward the mountain pass while the intelligence team wondered what they were getting themselves into.

  That afternoon, with light sleet falling, seven key members of the rocket team prepared to leave the hotel. All were dressed in their best civilian clothing. There would be no uniforms worn, as they wanted to be seen as intellectual scientists, not soldiers. The party consisted of the two von Brauns, Dornberger, Axster, Tessmann, Huzel, and Lindenberg. They loaded three cars for the trip. Wernher was anxious to get the preliminaries over with so they could start the negotiation. Everyone was confident of a warm reception, and the trunks of the cars were filled with liquor and wine bottles taken from the hotel cellars. It was obviously not a typical surrender. As light faded, the group climbed into the loaded cars and headed toward the pass, reaching the American lines just after dark. Once cleared to enter, Wernher and company were given a hot meal and directed to quarters nearby, where they spent the night.

  There were still 150 team members at Oberjoch, awaiting instructions from Dornberger before surrendering. The 300 members of the rocket group still in Oberammergau had scattered, finding refuge in homes and resorts in the area. Those who had remained in the Nordhausen area were hiding as well, hoping both to avoid capture and to avoid being connected to the Mittelwerk and Dora.

  The news that the rocket team had surrendered was widely distributed, and the next morning there was a press conference and photo shoot. Wernher, who was near the top of the T-Force “want list” was the center of attention. As he had anticipated, he was treated like a celebrity. He was at his congenial best, smiling, laughing and joking, sharing stories with American soldiers, and acting as the spokesman for the group. The photographs taken that morning show a relaxed and congenial get-together, with the Germans looking happy and rested, and the American soldiers looking exhausted.

  Not all of the witnesses approved of the celebratory atmosphere. One soldier complained that von Braun acted like a visiting congressman rather than a POW, and another couldn’t decide whether he was a genius or full of malarkey. Dornberger stayed out of the limelight, letting Wernher handle the PR work. Lt. Stewart, a member of the T-Force team, later remarked that Dornberger was extremely reserved and reticent, but Dr. von Braun was the life of the party. Speaking to the reporters, Wernher took all of the credit for “his” V-2 program, and boldly claimed that if he had had two more years, Germany would have won the war by launching 200 V-2s per day and striking targets with pinpoint accuracy.

  After a short wait, Wernher, Dornberger, and the others were escorted to a luxurious resort, the Hotel Bahnhof, overlooking the site of the 1936 Winter Olympics in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The generally festive atmosphere continued, and the German supplies of alcohol were dwindling fast. Wernher knew that interrogations would follow, but he wasn’t particularly concerned. His reception demonstrated that the Americans clearly knew how important he was. All that was left was to work out an agreement that met his expectations. For the moment, he would simply enjoy the attention and do what he could to shape the news reports of their surrender.

  Before the social atmosphere faded, arrangements were made to collect the rest of Wernher’s core group from Oberjoch and Oberammergau. While that operation proceeded, interrogators arrived from all over the European Theatre — from the Navy, the Army Air Corps, Army Intelligence (G-2), and British Intelligence, all members of the Combined Intelligence Objectives Subcommittee (CIOS). When Lt. Stewart, the officer in charge of the interrogation program, cabled his superiors about the situation, he was ordered to determine if any of the men who had surrendered were Nazis. He responded that he really didn’t think that mattered. What mattered was what they knew, and what they could
do for the US military to hasten the end of the war against Japan.

  On 7 May, Admiral Karl Dönitz, acting head of the Third Reich, authorized the unconditional surrender of Germany, and the war in Europe was officially over. For the rocket team, this was probably old news and of little interest. Their primary concern was navigating their way through the interrogation phase and emerging with a bright future.

  127 Record Group 226, National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Maryland

  128 The CJA is part of the Judge Advocate General Corps. A CJA is assigned to each Army command.

  129 Hitler shot himself on 30 April 1945 after killing his new bride, Eva Braun.

  Part 2: Peace, Politics, and Injustice

  A government by secrecy benefits no one. It injures the people it seeks to serve; it damages its own integrity and operation. It breeds distrust, dampens the fervor of its citizens and mocks their loyalty.

  SENATOR RUSSELL B. LONG

  Nothing is covered up. We have nothing to conceal. The barbarous treatment these people received in the German concentration camps is almost unbelievable. . . . I think people ought to know about such things. It explains something of my attitude toward the German war criminal. I believe he must be punished, and I will hold out for that forever.

  GEN. DWIGHT DAVID EISENHOWER

  CHAPTER 17

  The Long Way Home

  ON I MAY 1945, THE news reached Stalag VIIA that Hitler was dead and the Third Reich was collapsing. There was jubilation at the camp as word was spread — it was clear that the war in Europe was ending. Fred was relieved to hear it. Soon he could go home! But precisely when remained an open question. There were standing orders that no one was to leave the camp, due to concern about rogue SS groups, snipers, and civilian reprisals against Allied military personnel. Fred knew all about the latter problem from first-hand experience. But he still wasn’t happy about being locked up by his own guys. And although they were no longer in German custody, food distribution to 130,000 prisoners remained a logistical nightmare. He was still extremely hungry, and there was a lot of grumbling from the POWs, and he heard that some prisoners were sneaking through the fence-line to search for food.130

  Conditions were appalling and rapidly deteriorating. French, Russian, Polish, and Ukrainian prisoners left the camp and returned with liquor, after wreaking havoc in the town and abusing any women they could find. Drunken brawls occurred, and looting soon spread throughout the camp. The lawless atmosphere added to the general misery caused by hunger and overcrowding. At this point, at least 90% of the prisoners (including Fred) had dysentery, and the lines at the latrines seemed endless. Those unwilling or unable to wait in line squatted wherever they could find a space, adding to the general stench that hung over the camp like a low cloud. Fred found that he could ignore it, except when a gust of wind brought a tantalizing reminder of what fresh air was like.

  Several noteworthy things happened over the next week. First, General Patton, commander of the US Third Army, rode a jeep into the camp for a brief visit. He walked around a bit, visited the war crimes investigation unit set up in one of the barracks, said a few words that Fred couldn’t hear, and then rode off again. Second, Red Cross trucks arrived and food became more plentiful, although it still took a long time to distribute the rations. The third bit of news was that French POWs, many of whom had been in captivity for years, were at the top of the priority list for evacuation, ahead of the American POWs. Fred wondered aloud how long that would take, but nobody had any idea.

  In the end, Fred was held in the camp for a week. Many of the men wandered around the camp, looking for friends in the crowd and collecting souvenirs to take home with them (Nazi flags were a popular item). Fred stuck relatively close to the barracks, as his feet were still bothering him, but several members of his crew came by, including Loren Jackson and, on another occasion, Sam Pennell. Loren and Fred agreed to meet in New York City after they got home, but Sam and Fred immediately started hanging around together, catching up.

  One of the other men from his combine was in a small mob that broke into the headquarters office for the camp and “liberated” the identity cards for prisoners whom they knew. In this way Fred obtained his Kriegie ID card with the photo taken at SL III.

  Shortly after liberation, a war crimes unit set up shop in the alcove of one of the barracks, under a placard that said War Crimes Investigating Team 6824. This team, under Major Sullivan, collected information and depositions from prisoners regarding treatment in violation of the Geneva Conventions. There were many such teams in the ETO, reporting to the Judge Advocate General of the US Army.

  Early in the process, the call went out for the Buchenwald airmen, as both intelligence and war crimes personnel had been alerted to their situation by Lamason’s report and by the supplemental report provided by LtC. Clark. Fred spent most of a morning in a rickety chair answering questions from the War Crimes team about his experiences. He found them very difficult to talk about, and he was sweating and fidgeting. His answers were brief and sometimes abrupt or halting. Nevertheless, he was told that the OSS wanted to talk to him as well, but that this might not happen before he left the camp. Fred was then handed off to the Military Intelligence Service (MIS), who had their own questions. Fred was told that his name would be mentioned in their report, although he was not warned that it would be decades before he saw a copy.

  Germany surrendered unconditionally on 7 May 1945, and the next day, American POWs started leaving Stalag VIIA. Fred and the other Buchenwald airmen had priority status, but he still had to endure a long wait in line for delousing before climbing into a 6x6 for a ride to a local airfield. Once there, he sat in the shade for several hours awaiting an open seat on a cargo plane. But it was worth the wait, as Fred eventually climbed on and strapped in for the flight. He wasn’t clear on precisely where he was headed, but that didn’t bother him at all.

  He was taken first to Fliegerhorst Salzwedel in northern Germany, where Fred and the other Buchenwald airmen showered, were deloused for the second time, and received a change of clothing. Fred then had a medical exam to determine whether or not he required immediate hospitalization, but aspirin was the only treatment provided for the pain in his feet. Other than his feet, Fred’s main problem appeared to be malnutrition, so he was flown to what was essentially a holding facility where he could be given extra calories and his physical condition monitored while he was processed for transport to the US. There were several such facilities operating in the ETO at the time, and Fred was sent to one used by recovered airmen. It was called Camp Lucky Strike.131

  Camp Lucky Strike was located near the Normandy coast, roughly 25 miles northeast of the French port city of Le Havre. Tents of varying size were set in multiple rows all around the central, cleared portion of a large field. People were everywhere, and it reminded Fred of Stalag VIIA in that respect. But everyone seemed to be in high spirits and ready to welcome the newcomers.

  Liberated POWs were called RAMPs, which was an acronym for Recovered Allied Military Personnel. The camp was filled with them, all waiting for a ride to the US. On arrival, Fred was directed to a Red Cross station, where he was given a cursory physical review. Because he was obviously malnourished and more than 30% underweight, he was held there for 48 hours while the nursing staff gave him glasses of eggnog, which they said would prepare his shrunken stomach for regular food. Fred had weighed 155 pounds when he was shot down, roughly 100 pounds when he arrived at Stalag Luft III, and only 115 pounds when he reached Camp Lucky Strike. His belly had retreated to the point where he could place a board across the front of his pelvis, and it wouldn’t touch his abdomen.

  After two days bunking in one of the Red Cross tents and drinking four to six big glasses of eggnog each day, Fred was really looking forward to some regular food. Even with teeth missing and aching gums, he wanted something to chew on. At long last he was released and sent to headquarters for formal arrival processing.


  Headquarters consisted of three or four quonset huts much like the barracks buildings at Great Ashfield, plus a shabby wooden building with a placard reading “RAMP Camp Headquarters.” The surrounding area was filled with enormous barracks tents. When Fred reported and gave his name and serial number, he found that his name must’ve been flagged, because he was pulled aside and taken to an interview room set aside for the OSS. He spent much of the day in that office, answering detailed questions about his experiences.

  Particular focus was placed on his time at Buchenwald, the medical experiments, and the attempts to make the airman do skilled factory work. Once again, Fred found it difficult to talk about what he had seen and done, and at several points, the interviewer paused to give him time to regain his composure. When the ordeal was over, Fred went to the main office where, after another wait in line, a harried sergeant filled out the official arrival paperwork. Only the top of the form was completed, because Fred had already been interviewed by the OSS. Across the bottom of the form, the clerk wrote “OSS” and “CJA” (Command Judge Advocate, which handled war crimes) and crossed out the section of the form intended for the POW’s history while in captivity.

  There were hundreds of thousands of troops heading home, and only so many transports. So a complicated priority system was used to determine who left and in what order. Other than high-ranking officers and special cases of interest to the government, nobody went by plane. Fred was told he would be going home on a ship, either a “liberty ship,” a repurposed Navy vessel, or a commandeered liner or freighter. Things were too chaotic for anyone to know when Fred’s turn would come, so he was told to scan the bulletin boards each day to look for his name on the passenger list for an upcoming departure.