Chasing Gold: The Incredible Story of How the Nazis Stole Europe's Bullion

by George M. Taber

  General Erich von Manstein, perhaps the most brilliant strategist of World War II, provided exactly what the Führer wanted. The general came from a long line of officers and at the time was chief-of-staff of General Gerd von Rundstedt, the commander of Army Group I. Manstein supported the new ideas of General Heinz Guderian, who had studied the intra-war work on tank warfare done by Britain’s J. F. C. Fuller and B. H. Liddell Hart as well as France’s Charles de Gaulle. Army Chief of Staff Franz Halder originally opposed Manstein’s proposal, and Hitler first heard about it from his chief adjutant. On February 17, 1940, he had a working breakfast with newly appointed corps commanders, a group that included Manstein. He so impressed Hitler that the Führer kept him until 2:00 P.M. to discuss his ideas in detail.2

  Manstein’s revised plan, which was ready only a week later, was codenamed Case Yellow. It broke the western offensive into northern and southern operations. The two would start simultaneously. The northern one against Holland and northern Belgium had to be a fast and crushing operation because that would be just a setup for the more important southern offensive. This would be a surprise thrust through Luxembourg and southern Belgium before German forces attacked northern France at Sedan on the Meuse River. The genius of the plan, which Hitler modified some and actually improved, was a tank attack through the Ardennes forest, which was then considered to be a natural barrier to an invasion. The boldness and heavy use of armored vehicles greatly appealed to Hitler. The plan now had the name Operation Sichelschnitt (Cut of the Sickle). Hitler also called in Guderian to ask him what he would do when he reached Sedan, and the tank enthusiast said he would drive right to the English Channel. That, though, was too bold for Hitler and the top military brass, and a final decision on that part was put off until later.3

  After officials at De Nederlandsche Bank (The Netherlands National Bank) learned how the Nazis had captured the national bank gold when they invaded Austria and Czechoslovakia, they began looking for ways to protect their own holdings, which were among the largest in the world. As an historic financial center and global trader, Holland traditionally had large amounts of bullion in its vaults. Dutch military leaders repeatedly told political leaders that they could protect it over the years, and so they became complacent, figuring that even if there were an invasion they would have time to evacuate the gold via the country’s many ports. Nonetheless, central bank officials discussed various ways of protecting it, including the possibility of storing the metal in one of the country’s famous polders, the low-lying land behind the dikes.4

  A new cabinet was more realistic about the Nazi threat, however, especially in light of what was happening to their eastern neighbors, and the central bank began quietly shipping large amounts of bullion out of the country, primarily at first to Britain, the world’s traditional storage destination and a nation with which Amsterdam had strong historic ties. At the time, the Dutch Central Bank owned 555.8 tons. Later the Dutch also sent bullion to the Federal Reserve in New York, which now looked to be safer than London. In September 1938, Central Bank President L.J.A. Trip confidentially told the country’s prime minister and minister of finance that Holland had ƒ546 million guilders of its gold abroad, with seventy-five percent in Britain and twenty-five percent in the U.S. When the Germans attacked Holland, the Dutch had more than eighty percent of its bullion at the New York Federal Reserve. The central bank, though, still had 192 tons in the country on the day of the invasion.5

  In November 1939, Dutch officials received news from German opposition sources that Hitler was making plans to invade Holland as part of his plan to conquer Western Europe. The Dutch Central Bank staff at the main office in Amsterdam then hurriedly packed up ƒ125 million in gold bars and ƒ41 million in coins, so they would be ready to move on short notice. It was stored in the basement of its three-story building constructed in 1868 that stood amid gabled mansions in the city center on a street named Oude Turfmarkt. A small circular railroad track provided quick and easy access, and the national treasure could make a quick departure via canal. The plan was that it would go by small boat through the canal to the North Sea, and there would be loaded on bigger ships. While that storage facility was quaint and historic, the Dutch had more of its bullion stored at its more modern branch office in Rotterdam, forty-five miles south. The central bank still had 192.4 tons of gold in the country, with one-third in Amsterdam and two-thirds in Rotterdam. That amounted to thirty-five percent of its total holdings.6

  Political and bank officials had long agreed that if the country were invaded, the government, not the central bank, would have responsibility for protecting the country’s most valuable asset. London and Amsterdam also reached a secret agreement that in case of a crisis, British torpedo boats would escort Dutch ships evacuating gold to safety. When war fears increased again in late April 1940, the Dutch decided to ship an additional ƒ100 million to the United States, while the government continued to move bullion in small amounts to Britain. The last shipload of gold left from Rotterdam aboard the vessel Delfdijk with $3.5 million in gold. After landing in Portsmouth, England for repairs, it continued on to New York. The final air shipment before the invasion took place by air on May 7 on a 9:00 A.M. KLM flight to London that carried 1.6 tons. The next departure of 263 bars was scheduled to leave Rotterdam by sea on May 11. The gold was all packed and set to go.7

  The Rotterdam central bank facility, which opened in 1907, was a mighty fortress located in the center of the city on a street called Boompjes or Little Trees. There were three vaults located underground at the back of the building. The concrete roof was 30 centimeters thick and was reinforced with concrete iron beams. At the entrance to the vaults were double steel doors. The main access was at Boompjes 72, which was on the backside away from Rotterdam’s famous network of inland waterways. The Rotterdam evacuation plan was similar to the Amsterdam one. The gold would leave by canal in front of the bank and go out to the North Sea, where it would be transferred to a larger vessel and taken out of the country.8

  May in Western Europe is a beautiful time of year. Winter can sometimes drag into late April, but then on May Day nature always seems to flip a switch and turn on spring. Early May 1940 was a perfect example. For the first two weeks, there was no rain and the skies were blue. In Paris on May 1, the traditional lilies of the valley were on sale at every corner, while in Holland tulips were in full bloom. In London on May 9, Sir Alexander Cadogan, the Permanent Under-Secretary at the Foreign Office, wrote in his diary, “Lovely day–tulips almost at their best and everything smiling, except human affairs.”9

  The German army and air force had been ready for months to launch its next invasions, but military leaders kept postponing the date, in part because they were waiting for perfect weather so that Germany’s powerful new Luftwaffe would be at its deadly peak efficiency. The second week of May 1940 turned out to be ideal Hermann Göring weather. It was also Whitsun, a popular three-day religious holiday in Western Europe when many people go away for short vacations to enjoy the start of spring. That began on Saturday, May 11, but some people slipped away early.

  France, Belgium, and Holland all knew that something was coming because of a steady stream of intelligence tips, mainly from the anti-Hitler group led by an opposition group that included Wilhelm Canaris and Hans Oster, who worked in German military intelligence, and Hans Bernd Gisevius of the Interior Ministry. Even the Vatican received news that a German invasion could be expected on about May 10, and the new pope, Pius XII, passed warnings along to the Dutch.10 The best information came from Colonel Hans Oster, a top official in Wehrmacht intelligence. On May 9, he had dinner in Berlin with Colonel Jacob Sas, the Dutch military attaché, whom he had been warning of an imminent attack. While they dined, Oster explained that the offensive was likely to start at dawn the next morning. The final decision was to be taken at 9:30 that evening. After the two men finished eating, they walked through quiet Berlin streets to the office of the German High Command. Sas stayed outside on
Bendlerstraβe, while Oster went in to see if there might have been another delay. A half hour later, the German officer came out and tersely told Sas, “There has been no cancellation. The invasion is to begin.” In a veiled reference to Hitler, Oster added, “The swine has gone to the western front.”

  Sas quickly telephoned the news to military leaders in The Hague, the country’s seat of government. Oster also warned the Belgian military attaché in Berlin. At 3:00 A.M., German diplomats in Brussels and The Hague delivered a memorandum to the respective foreign ministries stating that Germany was invading the countries “to forestall a projected Anglo-French action.”11

  Early in the morning of May 10, Hitler and his two closest generals, Wilhelm Keitel and Alfred Jodl, arrived in Münstereifel, a small spa resort in western Germany only twenty-five miles behind the Wehrmacht units that would soon march into Belgium. The Führer claimed he had been so nervous the night before that he hadn’t slept. The three encamped in a small field bunker called the Felsennest (Rocky Eyrie) that had just four rooms. At the assigned time, one hundred German divisions began rolling into Luxembourg, Belgium, and Holland. Virtually every plane in Göring’s Luftwaffe took off into the air. Winston Churchill would later write: “Four or five millions of men met each other in the first shock of the most merciless of all wars to which record has been kept.”12

  At that crucial moment in European history, neither Britain nor France had a government. London was in the midst of a political crisis. Parliament had lost confidence in Neville Chamberlain because of his accommodating policies toward Hitler going back to the Anschluss; but Churchill had not yet been appointed to replace him. The French cabinet had also fallen the afternoon before, a routine occurrence during the country’s Third Republic. The government of Paul Reynaud was technically out of office, but President Albert Lebrun the evening before had asked him to continue in power for a few days.13

  German General Fedor von Bock launched the thirty divisions of the Wehrmacht’s Group B into the region stretching from Northern Belgium in the south to above Amsterdam in the north. The primary target was the area the Dutch called Vesting Holland (Fortress Holland), the country’s stronghold that included the cities of Amsterdam, Utrecht, Rotterdam, Leyden, and The Hague. Water surrounds the region on three sides, and the Dutch were supremely confident that their networks of dikes would stop a German offensive. Three years before, Dutch Prime Minister Hendrik Colijn had explained proudly to Winston Churchill how he could with just the push of a button open the locks on his country’s famous dikes. Torrents of water would swamp an invading German army in its tracks.14

  Many Dutch leaders had been confident that their traditional policy of neutrality, which had kept their country out of World War I, would work again. Only after the Germans sent their armies into the Rhineland in 1936 did politicians slowly become nervous and begin a serious armament program. Ironically, they tried at first to buy some of their weapons from Germany. Berlin, though, wasn’t interested in arming potential targets. It was impossible, however, for Holland in a short time and given the country’s small military budget to build a force capable of standing up to the mighty Wehrmacht. Holland was totally unprepared for the onslaught that hit it.

  At about 1:30 in the morning of May 10, a large formation of German bombers flew high over the country heading west. Alert Dutch defense units surmised that they were going to Britain. When the planes reached the North Sea, however, the pilots turned around and headed back east. Then they bombed two major targets: The Hague and Rotterdam. Amsterdam was not a primary target, and the Dutch believe that was perhaps because Hitler, a student of architecture, liked the city just as he later admired and spared Paris. German paratroop units, Berlin’s new attack weapon, which had first been used only a month before in Denmark, began landing in Holland.15

  Just as in Denmark and Norway, a prime German objective here was to capture the country’s royalty and its government. First they had to secure key airports, and after that motorized units would speed to The Hague and take Queen Wilhelmina prisoner. She had been queen since 1898 and was the symbol of the country’s unity. She was not a modern monarch who only showed up for ribbon cuttings and stayed out of politics. On the contrary, the strong-willed woman regularly got into the daily affairs of her cabinet and had close relations with the country’s military leaders. She had said early and repeatedly that if war came, she wanted to follow the World War I precedent of Albert, the king of the Belgians, who had remained in his country throughout the fighting and occupation.

  The German offensive was swift and initially successful. Troops quickly controlled two airfields near The Hague. After temporarily stunned Dutch troops recovered, however, they drove the invaders back and took a large number of prisoners. Just as in Norway, the master race’s invasion was not going according to schedule.

  In Rotterdam twelve Nazi seaplanes landed on the Nieuwe Maas waterway in the center of the city, which had been opened in 1872 to keep the port of Rotterdam accessible to seafaring vessels. The primary German objective was to capture the city’s key bridges that were the gateway to Fortress Holland and to the water defense that Colijn had described to Churchill. If the Germans grabbed them intact, their troops could quickly move into the heart of the country. Nazi commandos, dressed in local police uniforms, pretended to be leading captured German prisoners and then turned and attacked the Dutch troops.

  The Nazis took the strategically vital Gennep railway bridge, but a fierce battle was fought over the Willems Bridge. Only about 500 yards from where all the fighting was taking place stood the Rotterdam branch of the Dutch Central Bank. If the Nazi forces were able to capture the bridge quickly, the gold stored there would fall into their hands. Although the Germans captured the southern end of the bridge, Dutch marines managed to control the northern end. They set up military units in the Witte Huis, an eleven-story art nouveau hotel built in 1898 that was Europe’s first skyscraper. Because of its height and the soft, damp Rotterdam soil, the building had been constructed of iron, steel, and cement on one thousand pilings. That now made it a mighty defense fortress. From the top floors, Dutch marines fired in all directions. Gradually the Nazi troops had to retreat from all their positions except one in a tall bank and insurance building directly opposite the Witte Huis.

  The evening of May 9-10, Queen Wilhelmina had stayed in The Hague with her family at the royal rural residence Huis ten Bosch, one of her three homes. At 4:00 A.M., she woke her daughter Crown Princess Juliana and said simply, “They have come.” She didn’t need to say anything more. Juliana was sleeping in the palace’s air-raid shelter with her daughters Beatrix, aged just over two years, and Irene, who was eight months old. Major Sas had also warned Prince Bernhard, Juliana’s husband, of the invasion. The coded Sas message: “My aunt is sick.” The prince had passed the news along to Wilhelmina.16

  Bernhard, a German by birth, had been a member of the Nazi party in his student days and married Juliana in 1937. Three years later, the Dutch people still weren’t totally sure where his loyalties lay. The royal family soon heard the sound of anti-aircraft fire from outside the palace, and German airborne troops led by SS General Kurt Student began landing. German planes dropped leaflets with the warning, “The city is surrounded by strong German troops. Any resistance is senseless.” The general had orders to capture the queen. If she refused to cooperate, he was to arrest her and send her to Germany.

  General Henri Gerard Winkelman, the commander of the Dutch military, urged the royal family to leave Huis ten Bosch, which was located in the middle of a forested area of The Hague and would be easy for the enemy to capture. He proposed they go to their Noordeinde Palace in the heart of the city, which was only two miles away and had a stronger air-raid bunker. It was also nearer the coast in case the royals had to escape by sea. At this point Dutch leaders still thought they could handle the royal family’s evacuation without any outside help.

  Just before leaving, the queen at 8:00 A.M. issued a
statement calling the invasion a “flagrant breach of conduct” among “civilized nations.” The family departed in two taxis, rather than their official limousines, so as to attract as little attention as possible. The queen rode in the lead car. The crown princess, the prince, and their two daughters traveled in the second one. As they left, the prince fired a machine gun at a German plane, but did not hit anything.17

  After an emergency communications link was set up between London and The Hague, Churchill sent a message to the queen asking simply, “What about your evacuation?” The British placed a high priority on keeping royalty on their side. The Dutch military attaché in London was already working with the British to get some of their fastest warships to Holland to rescue both the country’s first family and the national gold.

  No one knew whether the strong-willed Queen Wilhelmina would leave her country. Her highness was determined to get Princess Juliana, her daughter and royal heir, out of Holland. She represented the future of the House of Orange-Nassau monarchy, and it was imperative that her life be saved. Wilhelmina quickly requisitioned Torpedo Boat 51 from the Dutch navy and made plans to send the Crown Princess and her family to southern Holland and, if necessary, to France. That plan, though, fell through when the Germans quickly captured the region where the ship was located. The only real option now was to get the heir to London with the help of the British navy.18

  Central Bank President Trip in the early hours of the invasion worked the telephones to his offices in both Amsterdam and Rotterdam from his home in The Hague. Their first priority was to get their precious metal out of the country. The gold in Amsterdam had fortunately never been unpacked after the November invasion scare. It was still in the basement of the Romanesque bank headquarters at the Oude Turfmarkt. Directly in front of the building was one of the capital’s many canals. The gold stored in the basement could be moved easily from the vault in wagons with the help of a small train and put into boats that would take it to bigger ships and evacuated. That escape, though, was not used. During the afternoon twelve trucks arrived in Amsterdam and picked up ƒ125 million guilders worth of gold bars plus ƒ41 million in gold coins. With an armored truck from the Dutch Central Bank acting as escort, the trucks raced to IJmuiden, a port city located at the mouth of the North Sea Canal.