Blood and Honor

by W. E. B Griffin

  And I pray God that your story won’t give Gradny-Sawz grounds to suspect that Peter is somehow involved in what happened.

  ‘‘There really isn’t much to tell, Herr Ambassador,’’ Capitán de Banderano said. ‘‘We had just reached the shore. Major von Wachtstein wasn’t even out of the boat when the Communists struck—’’

  ‘‘The Communists?’’ Gradny-Sawz interrupted.

  ‘‘You don’t think this is the work of the Communists?’’ de Banderano asked.

  ‘‘I’m prone to think the Americans are the ones responsible, ’’ Gradny-Sawz said, just a little sarcastically, and then had a thought: ‘‘Tell me something, if you please, Captain. Did Major von Wachtstein do anything at all to suggest he expected trouble when you landed?’’

  The question visibly surprised de Banderano.

  ‘‘No,’’ he said. ‘‘He didn’t know where we were going until Standartenführer Goltz told him.’’

  ‘‘And when was that?’’

  ‘‘At the time he showed me his map,’’ de Banderano said, ‘‘he said something to the effect that it was time von Wachtstein should know where they were going.’’

  Gradny-Sawz grunted.

  ‘‘You’re not suggesting that Major von Wachtstein had something to do . . .’’ de Banderano said.

  ‘‘I made no such suggestion,’’ Gradny-Sawz said.

  ‘‘Baron von Gradny-Sawz is simply doing his duty, Captain. Until we find out who is responsible for this, all are suspect.’’

  ‘‘All I know is that Major von Wachtstein risked his life to aid Standartenführer Goltz and Oberst Grüner,’’ de Banderano said. ‘‘And to guard the special matériel. I could not leave the helm of the launch, of course, and I am ashamed to say that my crew did not behave admirably. It was von Wachtstein—’’

  ‘‘How do you mean, your crew did not behave admirably? ’’ Gradny-Sawz interrupted.

  ‘‘When Standartenführer Goltz was struck, it was in the forehead. The shot—forgive the indelicacy—opened his head like a ripe melon. There was blood and brain tissue all over. My men jumped back into the boat. Major von Wachtstein, on the other hand, jumped out of the boat while the firing was still going on, and rushed to help.’’

  ‘‘How many shots were fired?’’ Gradny-Sawz asked.

  ‘‘I don’t know. At least six, possibly eight or more.’’

  ‘‘Odd,’’ von Lutzenberger said. ‘‘Von Wachtstein said there were only four shots.’’

  ‘‘How exactly did von Wachtstein help?’’ Gradny-Sawz asked.

  ‘‘He went first to Standartenführer Goltz, saw that he was dead, and called that fact to me. Then he went to the other officer...."

  ‘‘Oberst Grüner,’’ von Lutzenberger supplied.

  ‘‘Yes. And while he was bent over him, there was another shot. In my mind clearly intended for von Wachtstein. He didn’t let it bother him. He showed great presence of mind.’’

  ‘‘What did you mean the second shot was ‘clearly intended for von Wachtstein’?’’ von Lutzenberger asked.

  ‘‘The Oberst had been shot in the head also. And was clearly dead. There would have been no point in shooting him again. And the shot didn’t miss von Wachtstein by the width of my hands when it struck the Oberst for the second time.’’

  ‘‘And the great presence of mind?’’ von Lutzenberger asked.

  ‘‘Again, excuse the indelicacy. But von Wachtstein, who had every reason to be terrified—this was moments after the bullet missed him by the width of my hands—never let the importance of the special matériel out of his mind. Before he carried the bodies to the launch—and I am ashamed to say not one of my men had the courage to leave the launch to help him—he reloaded the one crate that had been off-loaded. A lesser man, knowing the two were dead, would have been content to leave them on the beach. But von Wachtstein insisted that we had to take them with us.’’

  ‘‘He is a courageous officer,’’ Gradny-Sawz said. ‘‘He received the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross from the hands of the Führer himself, you know.’’

  ‘‘Standartenführer Goltz told me that. I had the feeling that they were fond of one another. I could tell how difficult it was, on the way back to my ship, for von Wachtstein to retain his composure.’’

  ‘‘The special matériel is intact?’’ von Lutzenberger asked. ‘‘Berlin will want to know about that.’’

  ‘‘It is safe in my hold,’’ de Banderano said.

  ‘‘Well, Anton, what do you think?’’ von Lutzenberger asked after de Banderano had left.

  ‘‘I think we have a spy in our office, a traitor. The Americans knew where that boat was going to land.’’

  ‘‘And you think it’s von Wachtstein? Is that it?’’

  ‘‘Herr Ambassador Graf, I said nothing of the kind.’’

  ‘‘You gave me that impression, I’m afraid.’’

  ‘‘That was not my intention. I mean, after all, Herr Ambassador Graf, one does not quickly question the courage or loyalty of a holder of the Knight’s Cross. And then we have Captain de Banderano’s testimony to von Wachtstein ’s courage under fire.’’

  ‘‘Well, that may be. I find it quite difficult to even wonder if the traitor is von Wachtstein, but you’re right, Anton, we have one.’’

  ‘‘We will smoke him out. Or her out.’’

  ‘‘You really think it could be Fräulein Hässell?’’

  ‘‘As you yourself said, Herr Ambassador Graf, until we know for sure, everyone is suspect.’’

  ‘‘Yes, that’s so.’’

  ‘‘I wonder what Berlin’s going to say?’’ Gradny-Sawz asked.

  ‘‘I suppose, Anton, they will most likely name you to replace Standartenführer Goltz in carrying out this project. They’ll probably send in another military attaché—’’

  ‘‘Do you really think so?’’ Gradny-Sawz interrupted. ‘‘Place me in charge of this operation?’’

  ‘‘Yes, I do,’’ von Lutzenberger said.

  ‘‘They’d almost certainly ask for your recommendation about that.’’

  ‘‘And I would certainly give it.’’

  Praying, meanwhile, that they would be so stupid as to actually do it.

  What they will do, probably, is send in someone to take Grüner’s place as Attaché, and someone else to be the security officer, and keep an eye on Gradny-Sawz. And, of course, on me and von Wachtstein.

  [FIVE] Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo Near Pila, Buenos Aires Province 1730 19 April 1943

  Colonel A. F. Graham replaced the telephone handset in the cradle and turned to Major Cletus Frade and the Legal Attaché of the United States Embassy, Mr. Milton Leibermann.

  ‘‘The Ambassador—that was his Excellency himself— has been given an appointment to see the Foreign Minister at nine-thirty tomorrow morning,’’ he said. ‘‘He was unof ficially given to understand that the Foreign Minister has seen some photographs in the possession of Colonel Martín of the BIS, and was led to believe that the Foreign Minister wishes to personally inform him that the new government of Argentina intends to scrupulously observe the provisions of neutrality.’’

  ‘‘Which means, of course,’’ Leibermann said, ‘‘that the Océano Pacífico will sail off into the sunset with all that money on board.’’

  ‘‘Which they will find another way to bring into the country,’’ Clete said.

  ‘‘Having a lot of money on board does not give us the right to sink her, unfortunately,’’ Graham said. ‘‘And I think—I know—they will bring it in some other way. I think when I go back to Washington I can get Milton some more money, some more people, to keep track of it. We’re that much ahead.

  ‘‘And if the Océano Pacífico is ordered out of Argentine waters, she won’t be able to supply any submarines. It’ll take the Germans another six weeks, maybe longer, to get another replacement here. So we won, maybe.’’

  ‘‘Dave Ettinger is dead,’’ Clete said. ‘�
�How’s that winning? ’’

  ‘‘So are Standartenführer Goltz and Colonel Grüner,’’ Leibermann said.

  ‘‘And my father and Enrico’s sister. That makes it three to two. Does that mean I can send Enrico out to even up the score?’’

  ‘‘Don’t do that, please,’’ Graham said. ‘‘I wouldn’t want him to shoot von Wachtstein—excuse me, Galahad—by mistake.’’

  Clete looked at him coldly.

  ‘‘Relax,’’ Graham said. ‘‘That goes no further than this room. I have decided that since Milt and I know who Galahad is, and can guess at his motives, Donovan doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell him.’’

  ‘‘Thank you,’’ Clete said sincerely.

  ‘‘There’s a hook in that,’’ Graham said.

  ‘‘I should have known,’’ Clete said, his relief instantly replaced with bitter anger.

  ‘‘If something happens to you, Clete, the deal is off. So don’t do anything dangerous—like falling out of your wedding bed—or anything else risky down here. Go on the canapé-and-small-talk circuit. Keep your ears open. Say a kind word for our side when you get the chance.’’

  ‘‘Get rid of Delojo,’’ Clete said.

  ‘‘We have enough on an Argentine in Washington to persona non grata him,’’ Graham said. ‘‘We will. They will tit for tat, and Commander Delojo gets sent home from here. I think Ashton’s the man to replace him, but I’m going to have to sell that to Donovan.’’

  The door opened and a maid put her head in the door.

  ‘‘Excuse me, Patrón,’’ she said. ‘‘But the Señora insists on seeing you this very moment.’’

  ‘‘Jumping the gun a little, isn’t she?’’ Graham said.

  "What’s the word for that?’’ Leibermann chuckled. "Hen-pecked?"

  ‘‘Tell Señorita Mallín I am occupied and will be with her directly,’’ Clete said.

  ‘‘Patrón, the lady says her name is Señora Howell.’’

  ‘‘And that’s what it is,’’ Martha Williamson Howell said, pushing into the room. ‘‘Nice spread you have here, Clete. How are you, honey?’’

  ‘‘I’ll be goddamned!’’

  ‘‘Watch your mouth!’’

  He ran to her and put his arms around her.

  ‘‘God, I’m glad to see you!’’ Clete said.

  ‘‘Where is she?’’ Martha asked.

  ‘‘Where’s who?’’

  ‘‘Who do you think?’’

  ‘‘Would you ask Señorita Mallín to come in here, please?’’ Clete said to the maid.

  ‘‘Well, look who’s here,’’ Martha said, spotting Graham. ‘‘What brings you down here?’’

  ‘‘Clete’s wedding, what else? How nice to see you, Mrs. Howell.’’

  The door opened again and the Misses Howell passed through it, followed by Cletus Marcus Howell.

  He spotted Graham.

  ‘‘God, what are you doing here? What the hell’s going on around here?’’

  ‘‘Not much,’’ Graham said. ‘‘How are you, Mr. Howell? ’’

  ‘‘I’ve spent thirty-six hours on an airplane without sleep and four hours in a twenty-year-old Ford taxi driving here. How do you think I am?’’

  He looked at Cletus.

  ‘‘Have you nothing to say to your grandfather, Cletus?’’

  ‘‘That depends on what you’re doing down here.’’

  Dorotéa Mallín entered the room.

  ‘‘This must be her,’’ the Old Man said.

  ‘‘That’s her.’’

  The Old Man fished in his pocket.

  ‘‘This is what I’m doing here,’’ he said to Clete, and then turned to Dorotéa. ‘‘Miss Mallín, I am Cletus Marcus Howell.’’

  ‘‘I know who you are,’’ Dorotéa said. ‘‘Cletus has told me all about you, and so has my father.’’

  ‘‘This is now properly yours,’’ the Old Man said, and handed her a square of folded tissue.

  She unfolded it. It was an engagement ring, with what looked like a four-carat emerald-cut diamond.

  "I don’t understand," Dorotéa said.

  "What the hell is that?’’ Clete asked suspiciously.

  ‘‘It’s your mother’s engagement ring,’’ the Old Man said. ‘‘Jorge Guillermo Frade gave it to your mother, and now I’m giving it to this young lady. What she sees in you is beyond me, but if she’s going to marry you, she damned well deserves it, and a lot more.’’

  ‘‘Thank you,’’ Dorotéa said, and then kissed him.

  The Old Man looked embarrassed. But pleased.

  A HALF CENTURY LATER WE HAVE YET TO COME TO THE END OF THE STORY

  Priebke Extradited to Italy Today

  San Carlos de Bariloche

  On the eve of his extradition to Italy to stand trial for allegedly participating in a massacre of 335 civilians, former SS Captain Erich Priebke said in an interview yesterday the Vatican had tried to stop the killings.

  ‘‘The Vatican requested clemency in every way possible and even appealed to the German Embassy,’’ Priebke told the La Mañana del Sur daily.

  Priebke, 82, will be extradited to Rome today to await trial. The massacre, in the Ardeatine Caves outside Rome in 1944, was ordered by Hitler to avenge the killing of 32 German soldiers in an ambush.

  Priebke has been under house arrest in Bariloche for 17 months since admitting a role in the killings. He has said his task was to cross out the names of victims as they were led into the caves to be executed.

  ‘‘I was just obeying orders, ’’ he said in the interview. ‘‘All I knew was that they (the victims) belonged to the Italian Resistance in some way.’’

  Argentina’s Supreme Court ordered Priebke’s extradition to Rome on November 2.

  An Italian delegation, including Interpol officers and a military doctor, arrived yesterday in Bariloche.

  According to unconfirmed local press reports, the officials were expected to fly back to Rome with Priebke today at 8 am. Argentine authorities will hand over Priebke to Italian authorities at the local airport, the reports said.

  Priebke had lived openly in Argentina since escaping from a British prison camp in 1946. He worked as a waiter in Buenos Aires before moving to Bariloche, where he ran a delicatessen.

  Priebke’s attorney Pedro Bianchi said yesterday that the case was historically significant because it involved ‘‘the last Nazi.’’ Today marks the 50th anniversary of the Nuremberg trials in which Nazis were tried for committing crimes against humanity during World War II. (Reuter -NA)

  The Buenos Aires Herald, Buenos Aires, Argentina November 20, 1995

  Priebke Gone, Hugs Cops, Latter in Trouble

  San Carlos de Bariloche

  Argentina extradited former Nazi officer Erich Priebke to Italy yesterday to face trial for his role in that country’s worst World War II atrocity —the Ardeatine Caves massacre of 335 men and boys.

  The former SS captain, now 82, was taken from his home in Bariloche to an airplane sent by Italy to take him to Rome.

  He looked serene as he smiled and waved goodbye from the tarmac before boarding the Falcon DA 90 aircraft.

  A preliminary committal hearing to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to proceed to a full trial is scheduled in Rome for December 7.

  Priebke shook hands with police and hugged some of those who escorted him to the local airport, witnesses said. Interior Minister Carlos Corach later asked that the young officer who was caught by television cameras hugging Priebke be stripped of his police duties. The police suspended him and the officer in charge.

  In an interview published yesterday by a local newspaper Priebke expressed grief at having to leave his family behind and hope that his captors will set him free.

  He said his wife Alicia was not accompanying him because of her poor health. ‘‘She suffered a shock the day I was arrested,’’ he said.

  Several Italian Interpol members and at least two doctors also boarded the p
lane. Priebke has a heart condition but an Argentina judge ruled last week he was fit for the flight.

  He has been under house arrest in Bariloche since confessing his part in the atrocity to a U.S. television interviewer last year. The extradition put an end to a year and a half of legal wrangling.

  Priebke, who spent the weekend with relatives and friends, said in a newspaper interview on Sunday that he had rejected repeated Vatican pleas to avoid the massacre.

  ‘‘Between March 23 and 24 (1944), Pope Pius XII tried to avoid the reprisal. A great number of Vatican envoys were sent everywhere, ’’ Priebke told La Mañana del Sur. He said the Vatican appealed to the German Embassy in Rome and to military leaders, including himself and his superior Herbert Kappier. (DYN-Reuter)

  The Buenos Aires Herald, Buenos Aires, Argentina November 21, 1995

  1 On Hitler’s orders, Ernst Röhm, one of his oldest friends and head of the Sturmabteilung (SA), was murdered by the SS June 30, 1934, on ‘‘The Night of the Long Knives.’’

  2 On December 13, 1939, in what became known as ‘‘The Battle of the River Plate,’’ the battle-damaged German pocket battleship Graf Spee was driven into the harbor of Montevideo in neutral Uruguay by the British and New Zealand cruisers HMS Ajax and HMNZS Achilles. Intense diplomatic pressure from England and the United States forced the Uruguayan government to order the Graf Spee to leave the harbor within the seventy-two-hour period called for by the Geneva Convention, or be interned. On December 17, 1939, at the personal order of Adolf Hitler, the Graf Spee was scuttled just outside Montevideo to keep her from falling into British hands. The German community in Buenos Aires, 125 miles across the River Plate, chartered a fleet of small boats and took her crew to Argentina, where they were interned.

  3 Headquarters, USMC, is at Eighth and I Streets in Washington, D.C.

  4 Tabasco is manufactured on Avery Island, Louisiana, by the McIlhenny family. The McIlhenny who served with the First Marine Division on Guadalcanal ultimately became president of the company, and retired from the Marine Corps Reserve as a Brigadier General. On his death in 1994, he left a substantial portion of his fortune to the Marine Academy, a Marine Corps-connected boarding school for boys.