“And your next stop is where?” Himmler asked casually.
“Reichsleiter Bormann, Herr Reichsführer-SS, and then Admiral Canaris. Then I will go to Wolfsschanze, to see Generalfeldmarschall Keitel and Admiral Dönitz.”
Generalfeldmarschall Keitel, chief of the German army, and Admiral Dönitz were with Hitler at his secret headquarters. As were Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring and Propaganda Minister Josef Goebbels.
Obviously, von Löwzer knows a good deal. The location of the Führer, and of those officials with him, is known to only a few wholly trustworthy people.
But does that mean von Löwzer knows everything about Operation Phoenix?
“Then I had best not keep you,” Himmler said.
He picked up the message from Buenos Aires and read it through again carefully before handing it to von Löwzer.
“You will be good enough to tell the Herr Foreign Minister that I understand the gravity of the problem and am at his disposal to discuss it?”
“Of course, Herr Reichsführer-SS,” von Löwzer said, rendered the Nazi salute, and walked out of Himmler’s office.
Himmler waited three minutes—long enough for von Löwzer to have certainly left the outer office—and then pressed the lever on his interoffice communications device and ordered Frau Hassler to summon Oberführer von Deitzberg.
“The Reichsführer-SS requests your presence immediately, Herr Oberführer,” Frau Hassler’s voice announced metallically through the intercom device on von Deitzberg’s desk.
Von Deitzberg had been sitting slumped in his high-backed chair with his feet resting on an open drawer. He put his feet on the floor, leaned across his desk, pressed the TALK lever, and very politely said, “Thank you very much, Frau Hassler.”
He slumped back into his chair and smiled at his deputy, SS-Sturmbannführer Erich Raschner. “Raschner, I believe the Reichsführer has just seen the telex from Warsaw,” he said.
The telex had been laid on his desk by a Signals Oberscharführer, the SS rank equivalent to technical sergeant, at 1120. As Adjutant to the Reichsführer-SS, von Deitzberg was charged with the administration of all correspondence—mail, teletype, or radio—that would come to Himmler’s personal attention. That is to say, von Deitzburg was the gatekeeper for a good portion of the information flow to the Reichsführer-SS. He determined what was important enough for Himmler to see, what he himself could deal with, or what he could pass farther down the chain of command for action.
Next, he determined when the Reichsführer-SS actually saw the correspondence that in von Deitzberg’s view merited his attention. Very rare pieces would be important enough for von Deitzberg to personally carry to Himmler himself. Immediately below that priority were messages that he would leave with Frau Hassler for delivery to Himmler the moment he was free. Below that priority were several categories: Some correspondence was stamped IMMEDIATE ATTENTION and placed in the box on his desk reserved for the Reichsführer-SS; some was stamped IMPORTANT and then placed in the box; and some, finally, was simply placed in the Himmler box without a stamp.
At least once an hour, a Signals messenger (always an SS noncommissioned officer) would make deliveries to von Deitzberg’s In box and pick up the contents of the Out box. The Reichsführer-SS’s correspondence would be immediately passed on to Frau Hassier, who would sort it (IMMEDIATE ATTENTION material on top, IMPORTANT below that, and unstamped on the bottom), and then place it on Himmler’s desk at the first opportunity.
Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler’s time was, of course, very valuable. Oberführer von Deitzberg was a splendid manager—with the result that he was gatekeeper not only of Himmler’s correspondence but of his appointments. He was the final arbiter of who got to see the Reichsführer-SS, when, and for how long.
Even senior government officials, like Deputy Foreign Minister von Löwzer, had to pass through von Deitzberg’s “gates.” When someone senior appeared unannounced to meet with Himmler, the SS officer on duty in the lobby of the building would pass the official into the elevator, then immediately telephone von Deitzberg. If von Deitzberg decided that the Reichsführer-SS had no time for the official, von Deitzberg would head him off in the corridor and explain that he was so very sorry, but the Reichsführer-SS had just left, and could he be of some help?
Today, von Deitzberg had decided that von Löwzer could be passed into the office of the Reichsführer. Whatever von Löwzer’s business, asking him about it, and then checking with Himmler about that, would be more trouble than simply passing von Löwzer in. Thus von Deitzberg was not aware of the reason for von Löwzer’s visit with the Reichsführer.
As for the teletype message from Warsaw announcing the Jewish insurrection, ordinarily, on receiving a message of that importance, von Deitzberg would have immediately carried it to Himmler and handed it to him personally. But today the Reichsführer had been lunching with his wife at the Hotel Adlon and hadn’t been expected back until at least 2:30.
And besides, that message offered von Deitzberg a personal opportunity.
The only trouble with his job was that he was so good at it. That meant, in other words, that he had become indispensable to the Reichsführer-SS. And that meant Himmler always listened sympathetically to his requests for an assignment in the field, and more or less promised one at the earliest opportunity; but that never seemed to happen.
He didn’t want to stay in the field, and wasn’t asking for that. What he wanted was a brief assignment in the field—ten, fifteen days, no more than a month—so it would appear on his record when he was being considered for promotion. And besides, he had no doubt that he could clean up this Warsaw insurrection nonsense in ten days.
Moments after the teletype from Warsaw had reached his desk, von Deitzberg had ordered Raschner to call the Luftwaffe and order a Heinkel bomber flown to Templehof Airfield, where it was to be prepared to fly “senior officers of the office of the Reichsführer-SS” to Warsaw on twenty minutes’ notice. Raschner had also reserved two compartments on each of the next three trains departing for Warsaw, in case the weather should preclude travel by air. Von Deitzberg’s orderly had been instructed to pack luggage containing uniforms sufficient for a week in Warsaw.
Even before Himmler had ordered him to his office, as he had indeed just done, Von Deitzberg had the scenario clear in his mind: Himmler would summon him to ask him why he hadn’t been immediately informed of the Warsaw affair, even if that meant interrupting his luncheon with his wife. Von Deitzberg would explain that the Reichsführer had left orders that he was not to be disturbed; and in any event, he had already done all that he felt the Reichsführer-SS would have ordered. An airplane was waiting at Templehof, et cetera, et cetera.
At that point, Himmler would wonder if the insurrection of some Jews was worth his personal attention.
“I think I had better tend the store, Manfred,” he would say. “Who else could we send?”
At which point, von Deitzberg would say, “It would have to be someone who could act for you, Herr Reichsführer.”
And then Himmler would say, “I hate to do this to you, Manfred, but I think it would be best if you went there. You will be acting with my authority, of course.”
“Good afternoon, Herr Reichsführer. I trust you had a pleasant lunch?” von Deitzberg said as he entered Himmler’s office.
“We have two problems on our hands, Manfred,” Himmler said.
“Two, Herr Reichsführer?” von Deitzberg asked, surprised.
Obviously Löwzer brought the second one. Did I make a mistake in letting him in to see Himmler without knowing what he wanted?
“Deputy Foreign Minister von Löwzer was just here. To show me a message to von Ribbentrop from Buenos Aires,” Himmler said. He paused and looked at von Deitzberg before going on, somewhat dramatically. “Goltz and Grüner are dead,” he announced.
It took a moment for Oberführer von Deitzberg to absorb what he had just been told.
“Dead, Herr Reichsführer?” he finally asked.
“Murdered by person or persons unknown. Their bodies are aboard the Océano Pacífico…which, by the way, the Argentine government has ordered from Argentine waters, on the grounds of attempted smuggling.”
“And the cargo of the Océano Pacífico?” von Deitzberg asked carefully.
“The Océano Pacífico was not able to unload her cargo,” Himmler said. “Von Lutzenberger was obviously reluctant to go into all the details in a cable, but he made that point quite clearly.”
Von Deitzberg nodded.
“And said more details were available,” Himmler went on. “Three people are familiar with them, in addition to the Ambassador himself. He suggested that von Ribbentrop arrange for at least one of them to come to Berlin on the next Lufthansa Condor flight.”
“Did he provide their names?”
“Yes. Gradny-Sawz, von Wachtstein, and Sturmbannführer von Tresmarck. I think your first order of business would be to have their dossiers sent up, so that you and I can have a fresh look at them.”
“Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer.”
“There will be a meeting of the others, and I would like to have that information before I go to that.”
“I understand, Herr Reichsführer.”
“And then I’d like your recommendations for someone to send to Warsaw to deal with that incredible problem.”
“Before I knew of this, Herr Reichsführer, I made arrangements to take you there. There is a Heinkel at your disposal at Templehof.”
“I thought perhaps you might suggest yourself.‘’
“If the Reichsführer-SS had decided going to Warsaw was not worth his time, yes, sir.”
Himmler was aware that von Deitzberg was ambitious and that he stood a far better chance of promotion to Brigadeführer (brigadier general) if he had some operational experience in the field.
“The problem, Manfred, is priority,” Himmler said kindly. “The Argentine operation is of far greater importance to the Reich than the unfortunate business in Warsaw. I need you here, at least until some decisions are made about Argentina.”
“I understand, Herr Reichsführer.”
“Can you think of someone off the top of your head?”
“Three or four people, Herr Reichsführer. But I thought you might wish to go over their dossiers with me before you made your decision.”
“Good idea. Get the dossiers as soon as you can.”
“Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer.”
[TWO]
The Chancellery of the German Reich
Wilhelmstrasse
Berlin
2230 27 April 1943
Though it was officially the Reich Chancellery Air Raid Shelter, everyone thought of it—and called it—“the Führerbunker.”
Under the supervision of Hitler’s personal architect, Albert Speer, a new Chancellery had been built in 1938–39 on the grounds of what was now known as “the old Reich Chancellery.” The new structure was far more imposing than the old, in both size and style.
The Führer had studied the proposed plans for the new Reich Chancellery and the bunker carefully, made a few “suggestions” for improvement, and then had watched the actual construction with great interest.
After the bunker was finished, the courtyard of the old Chancellery looked very much like it had before the shelter was built. There were two exceptions.
The first was a round-roofed one-story building in a corner of the courtyard, which served as an above-ground observation post for the guards of the SS-Leibstandarte (Life Guards) Adolf Hitler Regiment, who had been assigned the duty of protecting the bunker. A three-story flight of stairs under this building led down into the bunker and provided an emergency exit from it.
The second was the main entrance to the bunker. Constructed of thick concrete, and equipped with theoretically bombproof doors, it clashed architecturally with the Chancellery Building, but aesthetics had to give way to practical military engineering when the lives of the Führer and his closest advisers were at stake.
Only two senior Nazi officials had their own quarters in the Führer bunker: the Führer’s closest advisers, Martin Bormann and the clubfooted Dr. Josef Goebbels, Minister of Propaganda.
Not even Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring or Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel had space in the Führer bunker. Nor did Admiral Karl Dönitz, head of the German Navy, nor Joachim von Ribbentrop, nor Rear Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, nor Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler.
Space had been found, however, for Adolf Hitler’s good friend, Fraülein Eva Braun, who had her own bedroom modestly apart from the Führer’s.
Since it was useful to have an intelligent and trustworthy second pair of eyes and ears at important meetings, when Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler went to the Reich Chancellery this afternoon, he took Oberführer Manfred von Deitzberg with him, but managed to get von Deitzberg only as far as the foot of the stairway leading downward from the courtyard of the Chancellery.
When Himmler and von Deitzberg passed through the two steel doors leading to the main bunker stairs, they were snappily saluted by the Schutzstaffel noncommissioned officers on duty and passed through without question. Himmler was, after all, the Reichsführer-SS, and the guards knew von Deitzberg was his adjutant.
But as Himmler reached the bottom of the last of the long flights of stairs, he realized he wouldn’t be able to take von Deitzberg any farther. Sitting in a row on steel chairs in the small area outside the bunker waiting room were Deputy Minister Georg Friedrich von Löwzer of the Foreign Ministry and the aides-de-camp to Admirals Dönitz and Canaris.
Someone has decided, Himmler thought, that a deputy foreign minister, a Navy captain, and a Navy commander—not to mention an SS-Oberführer—are not important enough to wait in the actual waiting room.
And there is no question in my mind that that someone is Martin Bormann.
“May I get the Herr Oberführer a coffee?” a Leibstandarte Hauptsturmführer politely inquired of von Deitzberg.
I wonder, Himmler thought as a Leibstandarte Obersturmführer opened the door to the waiting room for him, if that bastard Bormann will have the effrontery to keep me waiting in here.
There was no one in the long, narrow waiting room but another Leibstandarte Hauptsturmführer, who gave Himmler the Nazi salute.
“This way, if you please, Herr Reichsführer-SS,” he said, and led him through a cloakroom lined with metal wall lockers into Martin Bormann’s office. It was furnished simply with a metal desk and chair, a low filing cabinet, and a small table. The two admirals and the Foreign Minister were seated at the table.
Bormann, leaning against his desk, wore the brown uniform of the National Socialist Workers party. He was forty-three, a stocky man of a little less than medium height, and wore his hair close-cropped.
“Ah, there you are, Heinrich!” Bormann greeted Himmler with a smile, and offered his hand. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Himmler consulted his wristwatch. He forced himself to smile.
“You said half past seven,” he said. “It is seven twenty-nine.”
“No one comes in here,” Bormann announced to the Leibstandarte Hauptsturmführer. “And no calls, except from the Führer. Or someone calling for the Führer.”
“Jawohl, Herr Reichsleiter,” the Hauptsturmführer said, and closed the door.
Himmler nodded in turn to Dönitz, von Ribbentrop, and Canaris. Each returned the nod.
“The Reichsmarschall, Generalfeldmarschall Keitel, and Dr. Goebbels are with the Führer at Wolfsschanze,” Bormann announced. “Keitel is aware of the cable from Buenos Aires. I thought I would wait until we see what this meeting decides before seeking instructions from
the Führer.”
Himmler thought: There is an implication in that which I don’t like, that he alone decides what the Führer will or will not be told.
In this case, since the Führer is likely to be furious when he hears about the mess in Argentina, I will allow him to indulge his vanity.
“Has there been anything more than the first cable?” Himmler asked.
Von Ribbentrop shook his head. He was wearing a business suit, the only one there not in uniform. He was fifty, a small, once-handsome man whose blond hair was turning gray.
“The cable said very little,” Bormann said, addressing von Ribbentrop and making the observation an accusation. Ambassador von Lutzenberger was a diplomat, and diplomats were the responsibility of the Foreign Minister.
“It gave us the facts, Martin,” Himmler argued reasonably. “And I rather admire von Lutzenberger’s concern that our cables might not be as secure as we would like to believe.”
“What did it tell you?” Bormann snapped.
“That we were lucky we didn’t lose the Océano Pacífico’s special cargo—the Operation Phoenix special cargo—as well as Goltz and Grüner.”
“It didn’t say what happened, or who is responsible,” Bormann said.
“I would hazard the guess that either the papal nuncio or the American OSS is responsible,” Himmler said sarcastically.
“There has to be someone in the embassy,” Admiral Canaris said.
The others looked at him. Canaris, too, was a short fifty-five-year-old whose face was just starting to jowl. He had been a U-boat commander in World War I.
“I didn’t know Goltz well, but Grüner was a good man,” Canaris went on. “And from what little we know, I agree with Himmler that it was almost certainly the OSS—meaning that someone had to tell them not only what was going on but where and when.”
“I will of course defer to the both of you in this area,” von Ribbentrop said, nodding at Himmler and Canaris. “But I did have the thought that the Argentines themselves might be responsible. They are, after all, Latin. Latins practice revenge. The two killings might be in retribution for the unfortunate death of Oberst Frade.”
Secret Honor Page 5