London Calling

by D. N. J. Greaves

  ‘Wilhelm,’ he began. ‘You mentioned the SD investigation, and alluded to my father’s real work. But you haven’t explained what that work is and how you’re involved.’

  ‘I’ve deliberately kept that quiet until now,’ Canaris replied. ‘But before I answer the question I have a few of my own. Now that you’ve heard about the investigation, and the subterfuges and charades we’ve had to play, what do you think? We’ve trusted you with that information. Will you honor that trust? Do you accept that someone can still be patriotic and yet be totally opposed to Hitler’s rule?’ Both older men carefully watched Simon’s face.

  He looked back at them steadily. ‘Yes, I will honor that trust,’ he said, slowly and deliberately. ‘And as time has gone by I’ve come to accept that a man can still love his country but not necessarily support the men who run it. I’ve seen some sights recently that have made me doubt even the cause for which we fight, leaving out all political considerations.’

  Canaris nodded. ‘You mentioned something about that earlier. What have you seen?’

  Simon related the story of the rail journey back from Lublin, and the accidental detour into the camp area at Auschwitz. ‘It was obvious what was happening. The Jews were being selected for either forced labour, or another fate - almost certainly extermination. Even the dimmest of soldiers on my train could work that one out. And I was warned to ensure that all my men should keep quiet about what they’d seen, and not discuss this any further’.

  Canaris looked grim. ‘Yes, we’re aware of what’s been happening in Poland and places further east. You were fortunate, or rather unfortunate, to have accidentally intruded onto what is a closely guarded secret. Auschwitz isn’t the only one.’

  ‘What?’ He gaped in disbelief. ‘There are more?’

  ‘Yes. Chelmno, Belzec, Treblinka, Maidanek, Sobibor… those are the main killing centres. All of them situated in an out-of-the-way location, at the end of a rail line. As far as we can tell, it’s been going on for two or three years. Hitler gave the order three years ago, but as far as I can find out there’s nothing written down, nothing set in tablets of stone. A verbal Führer order. Jews are shipped from all over Europe by train, and end up in the camps. The vast majority are murdered, their bodies buried in great pits, or incinerated. The rest work as slave labour until they’re no longer fit, and then they go up in smoke, too, and are replaced by a new intake. The cycle is self- perpetuating, a closely guarded secret. Only a select few know the real extent of what is going on.

  ‘We found out recently that Himmler’s getting nervous. The Russians are advancing nearer to the borders of the Reich, and he wants all the evidence removed. Most of the camps I mentioned have now been destroyed, or soon will be. The burial pits have been dug up, the bodies exhumed and burnt. The Reichsführer wants no evidence of the extermination program left behind. The one you stumbled on, Auschwitz, is the biggest camp by far- it’s part of a huge industrial complex, and furthest away from the front line. It’s safe for the moment. Besides, we think they’ve nearly finished’.

  ‘What do you mean, finished?’

  Canaris suddenly looked old, pained by what he was about to say. ‘The extinction of all Jewish life in the areas that Germany still occupies. And anyone else who doesn’t fit in with the Aryan ideal.’

  ‘How many do you think have been killed?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. The murder of Jews started as soon as we invaded Poland. I witnessed such an event’. He briefly related the story of the inferno at Bedzin. ‘When Barbarossa started, RSHA had already created some special extermination squads to rove behind our advancing armies. They were called Einsatzgrüppen, Special Action Groups. They were responsibly for the wholesale eradication of Jews, Communists, intellectuals and other undesirables in areas behind the front lines. But apparently they weren’t very efficient. Too many of these murderers began to drink heavily to forget about the horror of what they were ordered to do. Women and children were particularly troubling to these killers. They became inefficient, demoralized, haunted by guilt. So the bosses at the top had to think again. A new plan was devised. Goering authorized it, and Heydrich began the work, early in ’42, we think. And Himmler took over after Heydrich’s death. I have no idea of how many. Maybe millions.’

  ‘Millions?’ Simon was aghast. ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘From reports by agents, German and Polish Jews, and others. The best lead we had was from the Swedish Embassy. We keep a routine eye on all their officials, especially if they travel throughout the Reich. We were particularly interested in one of them - a Baron von Otter, one of their top diplomats. He traveled quite extensively around Poland. On one of his trips he made contact with a man called Kurt Gerstein. Gerstein was chief of the SS Technical Disinfection Services, involved in supervising the disinfection of dead Jews’ clothing. By chance the two of them were traveling by rail back to Warsaw from Krakau when the train stopped somewhere along the way, to let the driver take a break. All the passengers disembarked. While they were waiting for the train to resume its journey, von Otter struck up a conversation with Gerstein who was standing nearby. He’d noticed that Gerstein appeared visibly distressed, for no apparent reason. The man was sweating and shaking, in a pitiable state, and needed someone to talk to. Von Otter just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

  ‘It transpired that over the previous few days Gerstein had witnessed the exterminations at Belzec and Treblinka, in the company of a Gruppenführer Globocnik, a singularly brutal and unpleasant fellow. The SS were using captured Russian diesel tank engines to asphyxiate the Jews en masse, killing them with carbon monoxide fumes. Gerstein was so upset by this that he wanted to see somebody at the Swedish Legation in Warsaw. He needed to talk about what he had just seen, to get it off his chest, to ease his conscience. So von Otter arranged for Gerstein to meet him there.

  ‘One of our agents was on board the train and noted the conversation. He reported back to me. I went to see von Otter a few weeks later, as part of my official Abwehr duties. I’m well known to the Swedes, for various reasons. Von Otter told me everything he knew, and in particular about what Gerstein had related to him. He’d suspected that the Jews were meeting a grisly end, but had no idea as to the scale of the killing. When Gerstein visited him the day after they got back to Warsaw the man broke down in tears - he told the Baron that he had seen over ten thousand Jews die the previous day.’

  Simon was shocked to the core. Eventually, after a long silence, he managed to recover. ‘Ten thousand in one day?’

  ‘Yes. And that was just one camp. In one day.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘In August 1942’, Canaris replied.

  ‘What’s happened to Gerstein?’

  ‘He’s gone into hiding. After what he’d seen he couldn’t carry on in the SS. We’ve got him in a safe house. He still has nightmares.’

  Simon put his head in his hands and remained silent for several minutes. ‘The bastards,’ he said flatly, unemotionally. ‘So this is what we’ve been fighting for. And up until recently I was completely unaware. What a dirty, rotten business we’re in.’

  Canaris looked at his father, nodded and turned back to Simon. ‘What are you going to do now? Particularly if Schellenberg wants you to go to England?

  Simon looked up, incredulous, almost completely punch- drunk. Was there nothing this man didn’t know about him? ‘Do you know everything that goes on at RSHA?’

  ‘No, although as I said I do have my sources’. Canaris bowed modestly. ‘The simple explanation is that Schellenberg and I have formed an alliance. He told me about the mission yesterday, at one of our secret meetings.’

  ‘And do you trust him?’

  ‘Yes. For the moment. But he has his own agenda, namely to make sure he survives the war and gets immunity from the Allies. He doesn’t believe all the propaganda about super weapons that are just around the corner, and how they’ll save the day. He knows, as well a
s we do, that the Allies will land somewhere in France or Belgium very soon, and that once they’re ashore the end will be in sight. I think we’ve got a year, eighteen months at the most, before Germany is finished. That’s all the time we’ve got left to achieve our objective- something that both your father and I have been working on over the last six years.’

  Simon was almost afraid to ask the final question. He thought he knew the answer, but he’d experienced so many surprises tonight that he was no longer sure.

  ‘And the objective is….’

  ‘That’s simple. To kill the Führer’.

  8 Prinz Albrecht Strasse 1100 4/5/1944

  ‘Sit down’. Schellenberg had just walked into the inner sanctum, the holy of holies. Himmler sat across from him behind the large desk that dwarfed his modest frame. The curtains were half closed, screening the room from the bright late morning light that streamed in. Himmler looked as if he had not particularly slept well, and had shaved worse. Schellenberg wondered about Himmler’s ancestry for the umpteenth time. He remembered the rumours about Heydrich - that even the blondest of the blonde and most Aryan and committed of Nazis had a Jewish relative somewhere in his blood line - some said it was a maternal grandmother. It was nothing one dared to ask in public - not if you wanted to live a full and happy life, that is. Perhaps Himmler had a similar ghost in his genetic closet?

  The summons had been received as soon as he had arrived at RSHA this morning. The Reichsführer needed to see him later in the morning, at eleven ‘o’clock, but the subject matter had not been disclosed. Schellenberg had a fairly shrewd idea what it was all about. After all, the summons could hardly be called unexpected. News of the report from Madrid would have almost certainly reached Himmler’s attention. The Reichsführer would want to discuss this and obtain an update about the latest intelligence efforts - particularly relating to the situation in the West.

  Himmler had come straight to the point. ‘I require an update on your progress with the report from the disaffected British officer, if that’s what he is. Also, the details of your latest conferences with Canaris, and what you propose to do about all this.’

  Schellenberg presented the salient points of his investigations, and summarized the possible and most likely outcomes. ‘As yet, Reichsführer, we have no way of assessing the veracity of this report, although it is by far the most accurate picture of the enemy’s order of battle- if it can be trusted. My conclusion from the start is that we need to stage a mission to England to contact this officer and determine whether this is real, or merely MI6 up to its tricks.’

  ‘Is there any way you can use any of your agents in place to do this?’

  ‘No. I believe that they’re all compromised, and especially the former Abwehr lot. I think we need to send someone into England, someone who can fit in immediately and quickly contact our target.’ Schellenberg explained the principle.

  ‘What about support? Will your agent be completely on his own?’

  ‘No, Reichsführer. I have a safe house that has not been used, so far.’

  ‘And what about all the reports from your agents, compromised or not?’

  ‘The majority indicate the Pas de Calais as the landing area. There are a few that indicate Brittany, Norway, Denmark or the southwest of France. Only one report indicates Normandy- that’s from our French colonel in Algiers, working for the Allied High Command in the Mediterranean.’

  ‘Only one?’ Himmler was skeptical. ‘You know that the Führer has a hunch that the Allies will invade in Normandy? He announced it to me recently.’

  Schellenberg indeed knew, but wasn’t about to let on to his superior. ‘No, Reichsführer, I didn’t. But it flies in the face of all the evidence we have so far.’

  ‘If it can be believed- only if.’ The Reichsführer grunted. ‘What do you think? You’re going to present these findings to the Führer, today, I take it.’

  ‘Yes. I still think it’s probably the Calais area. Everything points to it, but I also think it would be prudent to counter other possibilities. This mission, if successful, could determine once and for all the focal point of the intended attack.’ Schellenberg was used to hedging his bets. There was no way he would ever reveal his cards before the right time, which certainly was not now.

  ‘Very well,’ continued Himmler. ‘Tell me about this agent you’ve found.’

  Schellenberg briefly recounted the process. When Simon’s name was mentioned, Himmler sat up sharply and leaned forward.

  ‘How reliable is this man?’

  ‘As good as one can get, at this stage of the war. He’s a decorated hero- the Führer will present him with the Oak Leaves to his Knight’s Cross this afternoon at the Wolfsschanze. We’re taking off from Tempelhof in an hour or so.’

  ‘I will need to see him first. Send up his file, and bring him back in fifteen minutes.’

  Schellenberg returned with Simon in tow at the appointed time, but the Reichsführer had kept them waiting. An obsequious secretary had explained that Himmler was on the telephone- an important conversation that could not be interrupted. Schellenberg had sat down in the outer office, gesturing for Simon to do the same. He glanced at his watch in mild irritation- it was going to make catching the flight to Lötzen tight. Five minutes later they were ushered in.

  Simon came to attention and saluted immaculately, staring at the space several feet above the Reichsführer’s head. Himmler looked at him dispassionately for a moment, and then motioned them to sit down. He consulted the files in front of him.

  ‘Brigadeführer Schellenberg has told me the details of the plan, and how he has selected you for the mission. Also, you’re off to the Wolfsschanze to meet the Führer and receive the Oak Leaves from him personally, a great honor indeed.’ A pause. ‘Your military record is impressive.’ He glanced sharply at Simon, his small eyes narrowing in look of suspicion. ‘But there are a few inconsistencies here that maybe the Brigadeführer has not noted. My first concern is this- why did you not join the Waffen SS straight away? You were drafted in at Wisch’s request in March ’43. Did you think we weren’t worthy of your loyalty?’

  Schellenberg had already briefed Simon that he might have to face a few tough questions. He needed to be very careful in his replies. ‘No, Reichsführer. I’d never been in the Hitler Youth, nor was I a party member. I was living in England up until the start of the war. There’s a strong tradition in my family of serving in the Wehrmacht, and I volunteered for military service as soon as I returned to the Reich’.

  ‘So I can see.’ Himmler muttered to himself. ‘It appears you’re a good soldier on the battlefield. That’s all very well, but I’m more concerned about your political reliability. Why haven’t you joined the Party since your transfer into the Leibstandarte?’

  ‘Sir, since my transfer there’s been little or no time. The Leibstandarte has been in the thick of it on the Eastern Front, or resting and recuperating between the fighting.’

  ‘That’s not much of an excuse. But we’ll leave that for the moment. I’m more concerned about your father, Mannfred Simon. He’s known to us. What of your contact with him?’

  ‘We haven’t spoken since my parents’ divorce three years ago. I have nothing to say to him’.

  Schellenberg interjected. ‘Reichsführer, Simon’s father was cleared of any disloyal activity by the SD three years ago and as far as I’m aware, there’s not been any suspicion about any of his activities since.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know’, replied Himmler, rather testily. ‘But he’s a friend of Canaris, and as such falls under suspicion automatically.’ He turned back towards Simon. ‘So you have had no contact with him?’

  ‘None at all, Reichsführer. His actions destroyed my family.’ Simon hoped that he was sufficiently emphatic in his reply. Did Himmler know that his dead wife was Canaris’ niece? His pulse began to race.

  ‘Hmmm. Very well, then. But there’s one final point. I received a letter from an Obersturmbannführer Baer yesterday. He
relates a story about a military train being diverted into Auschwitz main camp recently. You were the responsible officer involved.’

  ‘Yes sir. We had no way of knowing where the train was going to end up, due to the disruption caused by the enemy bombing.’

  ‘Yes, Baer investigated this. He spoke at length with the Polish railway official, an idiot called Lizinski. He’s enjoying his stay in the camp, as we speak’. Simon shuddered involuntarily. It was not hard to imagine just what sort of ‘enjoyment’ Lizinski was undergoing. ‘I’m not concerned with that- it was obviously out of your hands. But I am concerned with two things- your assault on Haupsturmführer Sammler, and the witnessing of the camp’s activities. What do you have to say for yourself?’

  ‘Firstly, Reichsführer, I admit I broke Sammler’s nose. The fact that he took a swing at me first is immaterial. Officers should not fight in front of other ranks. They should wash their dirty linen in private. I apologize, but I was under severe provocation. Sammler and I don’t get on. I presume the commandant mentioned the reasons in his letter?’

  Himmler nodded.

  Simon continued, somewhat relieved. ‘I was informed by the commandant that the area was out of bounds to anyone without proper authorization. I have cautioned my men to never discuss what they saw there.’

  ‘And your opinion of our work there?’

  ‘My opinion doesn’t matter, Reichsführer. Obersturmbannführer Baer told me that the work is an essential part of the Reich’s future. I have no problem with this’. Simon began to sweat freely. He hoped his answers were sufficiently convincing.

  ‘Even if I decided to post you there?’

  ‘No sir,’ he lied. ‘But I beg to submit that my skills would be better utilized in a front line unit.’

  Himmler was silent for a few minutes. Then he turned to Schellenberg. ‘I presume you were unaware of this incident?’ Schellenberg nodded. He turned back to Simon and looked at him without expression. ‘Dismissed’.