by Stan Hayes
“Well,” said Jack, “Your luck may have run out on you in the air, but it held up on the ground. What if Brück hadn’t seen you?”
“Then I guess we wouldn’t be sittin’ here today. Well. They took me to an army hospital in Seville to set my leg. Both bones broken, about this far below th’ knee. They brought me back to th’ airfield infirmary th’ next day in a cast. I was sore all over, and just lay around for th’ next couple of days, listenin’ to th’ aircraft takin’ off and landin’ and readin’ Hitler’s book, Mein Kampf, which struck me as bein’ pretty crazy. One of th’ staff officers left it for me th’ first day I got back.
“Wednesday afternoon, Hauptmann Linder came to see me. He said that he was sendin’ me back to Germany on th’ doctors’ advice. ‘You’re an excellent aviator, Wessel,’ he said, ‘and the Fatherland will have much greater need for your services in the future than it does today. But your leg must have expert attention for a full recovery, and that attention can best be given in Germany. The group staff will have you scheduled on a flight within a day or two.’
“I wasn’t happy. Th’ gas that went into my aircraft, and several others, had been dirtier than anyone knew. Fortunately, we only lost one aircraft- mine. Fuel line clogged completely shut. Goin’ back to Germany without flyin’ a single mission depressed me, and I was also concerned about my leg. That evenin’, Leutnant Brück walked in. ‘Excuse me, Wessel,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.’
“ ‘You can interrupt whatever you like,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t be here except for you. Thank you for givin’ me the opportunity to thank you before they ship me out.’
“ ‘Yes, I heard. And you’re welcome; you’d have done the same for me. I also heard that you’re going to Berlin.’
“ ‘Yes. They say my leg’s in too many pieces to be fixed here.’
“ ‘Well, you’ll be back in one piece before you know it. Listen, would you mind if we spoke English? I like to knock off the rough edges whenever I can.’
“ ‘Sure, go ahead. I enjoy it, too. You know that I grew up in th’ States.’
“ ‘Yes. Hauptmann Linder told me. Born there, he said. Where’s home?’
“ ‘New York. Know where that is?’
“ ‘Yes. The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down.’
“ ‘So you’ve been to th’ States?’
“ ‘Yes. I went to school there. Loyola, in New Orleans.’
“ ‘An odd place for a German to choose.’
“Well, I guess it would’ve been, except that I already lived there. My father worked for Deutschesbank. He ran the New Orleans office.’
“So you came back to Germany after school.’
“Yes. My family left soon after the U.S. stock market crash in 1929. They allowed me to stay to finish work on my degree, and I came back the next year.’
“ ‘Now I’m hearin’ a little New Orleans. When you say yee-ah for year.’
“He laughed. ‘Yes. Once my family was gone, my English got much more colloquial. Well, I should go and get packed. I’ll look forward to more English on the trip back.’
“ ‘Th’ trip back?’
“ ‘Yes. I’m going back to Germany. Meant to tell you when I first came in. We’re on the same flight.’
“ ‘Damn. I came all this way, and now I’m goin’ back; without ever gettin’ th’ chance to see anything of th’ country. How long have you been here?’
“ ‘Since February. And it’s unfortunate that you won’t have a chance to see some of Spain. It’s very different from Germany and the States. From what I’ve seen, the Spanish people will make it impossible for their country to succeed as a modern state.’
“ ‘How’s that?’
“ ‘Too individualistic. They seem to be very difficult, if not impossible, to govern. Almost from the first day that I spent here, I heard a phrase that sums th’ individual Spaniard up perfectly- Viva Yo.’
“ ‘Viva Yo? What’s it mean?’
“ ‘Literally, Long live me; symbolically, fuck you.’
“I laughed. ‘Yeah, I can see where we Germans would find that to be a frustratin’ attitude.’
“By th’ time we got to Berlin, Dieter- that was his first name- and I knew each other pretty well. He was returnin’ to duty at th’ headquarters of th’ intelligence service- th’ Abwehr- and said he’d visit me at th’ hospital. He came th’ next week, on th’ day th’ doctors gave me th’ bad news. I had lost enough bone in my leg that resettin’ it had resulted in its bein’ slightly shorter than th’ other one. It meant that I’d be medically disqualified as an aviator, besides walkin’ funny for th’ rest of my life.
“ ‘Well, congratulations to you on your new rank anyway, Herr Hauptmann,’ I said, notin’ th’ change in his uniform. ‘We must celebrate that, anyway.’
“ ‘Yes, we must. And I thought you might like to meet some friends of mine, Abwehr comrades. We meet sometimes in the evening at a little cafe, Marta’s, that’s not too far from here.’
“ ‘I could use a little fun for a change,’ I said. ‘And I’m gettin’ pretty good on these crutches.’
“ ‘Spoken like a true Kondor!’ laughed Dieter. ‘I’ll pick you up this Friday at six. Do you have any civilian clothes?’
“ ‘I shall by Friday,’ I told him. ‘My uncle, the tailor, will see to it.’
“Marta’s was a short drive from th’ hospital in Dieter’s car, a large Mercedes, driven by a soldier. ‘I see you’ve already spent your pay raise,’ I said.
“ ‘I couldn’t buy this wagon with my next two raises,’ he laughed. ‘This is an Abwehr car.’ We turned off th’ Kurfurstendamm and onto a narrow side street, stoppin’ in front of Marta’s. Th’ sergeant driver helped me out with my crutches.
“ ‘I could need a little more help by th’ time we leave,’ I said.
“Dieter laughed again. ‘Don’t worry, we always return heroes of the Reich in one piece.’ They walked on either side of me, down the several steps to the cafe.
“ ‘Good evening, Herr Hauptmann Brück,’ said the hostess. ‘Your friends are already here.’
“We made our way to a table at th’ far end of th’ cafe, where three men stood up in unison when they saw us approachin’. ‘Peter Wessel,’ Brück said, ‘may I present Franz Kreigmann, Josef Lauer and Herr Doktor Oberst Lizst.’
“Kreigmann and Lauer were about th’ same age as Dieter and me; th’ Oberst- German for colonel- was a man a little taller than me, in his early forties, his hair already goin’ gray, but obviously very fit. He spoke first, as th’ waiter brought glasses for us.
“ ‘Good evening, Herr Leutnant. Please accept our thanks for your valiant service in Spain.’
“ ‘Thank you, Herr Oberst. The valor was Hauptmann Brück’s; it’s because of him that I’m here today.’
“ ‘Yes, much valor has been shown in Spain, and there will be much more. Dieter behaved in the best traditon of the Wehrmacht. It isn’t often that an Abwehr officer can be publicly recognized for heroic behavior.’ He raised his glass, which like the others had been filled by the waiter from the bottle of Martell’s Cognac that sat on the table. ‘Sieg heil!’
“We all responded, ‘Sieg heil!’
“We talked and drank for about an hour, mostly about how th’ war was goin’. Then Kreigmann and Lauer left, with much handshakin’ and smilin’, leavin’ Oberst Lizst, Brück and me to ourselves. As soon as they were gone, Lizst asked Brück to have th’ car, which turned out to be his, brought up. He and I sat side by side headin’ back to th’ hospital, with Brück sittin’ facin’ us in one of th’ jump seats. He wasted no time gettin’ to th’ point. ‘I’m sure you were surprised,’ he said, ‘to have met me under these circumstances. Again, Dieter is responsible. He told me about you and the unfortunate circumstances that have brought you back to Germany. You’ve given much to the Fatherland, and now I must ask you to consider giving even more.’
“He wasn’t kiddin�
�. Turns out he was th’ Abwehr’s deputy director. Brück had told him my story, and he immediately ordered him to arrange our meetin’. He wanted to send me back to th’ States as a spy. ‘One of our best agents, operating in New York,’ he said, ‘has urgently requested a qualified agent to assist him. He has been very successful in obtaining information on the Americans’ war production capabilities, particularly the aviation industry. I would like to send you to help him in this vital mission.’
“Lizst said that my American passport, fluent American English and aviation experience made me perfect for this job. These qualities, he said, outweighed my total lack of experience in intelligence. ‘We can teach you tradecraft a hell of a lot faster than we can find someone else who knows what you know,’ he said. ‘I hope I have convinced you; if not, maybe I should add that an immediate promotion to Hauptmann will be yours if you accept.’ He explained that th’ Abwehr would handle th’ mechanics of my transfer.
“Of course, I accepted on th’ spot. Where else could I make a more important contribution to th’ glory of th’ Fatherland? And there might be another quick promotion down th’ line. Besides, it promised to be very interestin’, and more than a little dangerous. I saw myself, not yet thirty years old, becomin’ a much bigger fish in world politics than I’d ever dreamed. By th’ time we got to th’ hospital, they had laid out th’ early stages of th’ process of turnin’ me into a spy. Th’ man whom I was to assist, Major Emil Kramer, was part of th’ Abwehr’s Bremen operation. As soon as I was released from th’ hospital, I’d be transferred there for several weeks of trainin’ in what th’ Oberst had called ‘tradecraft.’
“I reported to my new boss, Commander Braun, at th’ Abwehr’s Bremen office at 0700 on Monday mornin’, November 15. Complete with my new boots that had th’ right sole built up to compensate for my short leg. I had expected a typical old-school naval officer; I was, to say th’ least, surprised. He was short, fat and wore his uniform like a storekeeper. He was also one of th’ best intelligence officers in th’ Reich. ‘So, Wessel,’ he said, ‘I see you grew up in a port city. You should feel at home in Bremen.’
“ ‘Yes, sir,’ I said. ‘And my father is from Danzig. I always feel better when I can smell the sea.’
“ ‘That makes two of us,’ he said, smilin’. ‘Do you hear from your parents often?’
“ ‘No, sir. They’ve passed away.’
“ ‘Oh. I’m sorry. Well. My orders are to have you aboard the steamer Altona on 3 December. We’ve no time to lose.’
“From then until I boarded th’ ship, I wondered why Commander Braun gave any thought to how I’d like Bremen, because I saw damn little of it. Th’ Abwehr, typical of a German organization, was thorough. Its boss, Admiral Canaris, had decreed that Abwehr agents be ready for anything, and Braun’s office took him at his word. Th’ term ‘tradecraft,’ I soon realized, covered a lot of ground, and I spent all day, every day, gettin’ my arms around it. Codes, microphotography, invisible inks, agent contact, everything you ever read about spyin’. These guys had it down in black and white, along with instructors who took it personally when you didn’t spit it back to ‘em verbatim.
“By th’ time th’ Altona weighed anchor, I probably knew as much about intelligence work as anyone who’d never actually done any. Th’ ship wasn’t th’ fastest craft in th’ Hapag-Lloyd registry, so I had a few days to get it all settled down in my head. I also had time to catch up on my leg exercises, which hurt like hell, and it helped a lot to do them out on th’ Altona’s boat deck, sniffin’ th’ sea air while my eyes watered. I was determined to get my leg back, at least as much as I possibly could, before startin’ to work.
“My cover story was that I had been injured in a car accident in Berlin while workin’ for Lufthansa, and had come back to New York lookin’ for work. I was to be th’ ‘office manager’ for th’ Kramer Company, an ‘export consulting firm’ which I had been told would be doublin’ its staff when I reported for work. It was just old Emil and me, on th’ second floor of a big brownstone up on Riverside Drive. He worked there and lived there, and so did I; it was a big place, quite suitable for accommodatin’ th’ occasional overnight guest. Emil understood; he wasn’t that old.
“Emil had th’ guts of a cat burglar. He had hit on th’ idea of posin’ as an investor in companies that produced war materiel, and had managed to join th’ American Ordnance Association. Th’ AOA was a sort of semi-official organization that all th’ munitions makers belonged to, and members had pretty easy entree to plant sites and most any other classified areas that they wanted to visit. Kramer had passed himself off, by mail, as a heavy-duty investor in AOA member companies, and apparently got in just on th’ strength of that. Typical of him; ask and ye shall receive. When you don’t, just keep on askin’. He had two things above all: persistence and balls. He was an American citizen, a U.S. Army veteran, who had worked in place as a German spy in New York City since World War I. Not as part of any of th’ rings that had come before or after him; just himself. He’d been a lone wolf all those years, until he got so busy he needed a leg man.
“Emil was tall, thin and bald; and so intense it was hard for me to imagine him goin’ to sleep. His eyes were so dark you could say they were black, set close together over a long bony nose. ‘You can learn a lot from me,’ he told me in our first meetin’, with his usual modesty. ‘Just don’t try to learn it too fast. Do exactly as I say, and we’ll get along. One day- and soon- the United States and Germany will be at war again. What I, and now you, do will help to insure a victory for the Reich, and make the outcome of the next war very different from the last.’
“That to me, of course, was bullshit. I was too ill-informed then to realize how right he could have been. Like most people, I didn’t take Hitler too seriously. He was such an ugly little bastard; he reminded me of Charlie Chaplin’s little tramp who’d found his voice while on a week’s drunk. He appealed to th’ worst in people, and to th’ anger over th’ way th’ way th’ World War- and there had then been only one- had ended. I thought he was just another politician; another of th’ breed who’d like to be king, but counted on oratory and th’ other rituals of kissin’ th’ public’s butt to get there. He fooled me, though, just as he did almost everybody else. He was th’ furthest thing from Chaplin; he was more of an Al Capone, who used his gang to become th’ duly-elected boss of a nation. They were kickin’ a lot more butt than they kissed, and th’ majority of Germans were eatin’ it up.
“For me, bein’ an undercover agent was th’ most excitin’ thing I’d ever done. I was an officer in th’ intelligence service of a buddin’ world power, and th’ fact that I’d taken a personal oath of allegiance to Hitler was just part of th’ required window dressin’. I fully expected to take another oath to his successor when th’ time came. That’s how dumb you can be at twenty-nine. All I wanted to do was to enjoy th’ game, and leave th’ dreck to th’ politicians. They could talk about world war all they wanted, but as far as I was concerned it was just to keep them in power. Th’ wars, such as they might be, would be little wars; like Spain. Just enough to keep th’ machinery up to date and th’ arms makers busy. In th’ meantime, we in th’ intelligence community would have a grand old time keepin’ th’ players’ abilities in balance. We’d steal their secrets, they’d steal ours, and a good time would be had by all. And that’s th’ way it went for awhile.
“Emil and I got very busy and stayed that way, for th’ four years or so between my return to New York and th’ start of World War II. I was accepted, on his recommendation, into th’ AOA, and used my credentials to tour all kinds of plants in war-related industries- th’ Brewster and Grumman aircraft facilities, for example- and Emil did th’ same, plus makin’ some important friends in Washington. He got to be on very good terms with several of th’ senators and congressmen who served on war-related committees, and cultivated th’ kind of friendships with a few of them that let him ask them for favors, which usually were
granted. I’d made a few of my own, like a young Italian guy named John Bisceglia, who I’ll tell you more about later.
Th’ AOA, though, was our hole card. In 1939, for example, th’ German battle cruiser Graf Spee got into a fight with three smaller British ships in th’ Atlantic, off th’ coast of South America. Th’ gunfire was so loud that seals in a rookery off Punta del Este, a finger of land that juts out into th’ Atlantic, were so frightened that many of them leapt over th’ cliffs to their deaths on th’ rocks. Th’ Spee was beaten up very badly, and put into th’ port of Montevideo for asylum and repairs. Th’ Uruguayan government wouldn’t allow them to stay, so th’ captain put back to sea and scuttled th’ ship.”
“Scuttled? What’s that?” Jack asked.
“That’s when you sink a ship on purpose. Ships’ hulls have big valves, called sea cocks, that lead out to th’ skin of th’ ship, and can be opened to let in sea water. They’re there to let th’ crew balance th’ ship in case it’s damaged, but when you open them, and leave them open, th’ ship fills up and goes to th’ bottom. Th’ Graf Spee’s captain scuttled her to keep her from bein’ taken as a prize by th’ British. When Hitler got th’ news he went nuts, and demanded a blow-by-blow recount from th’ Abwehr’s Buenos Aires office of how one of th’ Reich’s prized capital ships was defeated by a couple of lightly-armed British cruisers. They quickly put together a report of what they knew about th’ action, which wasn’t much, and sent it to Berlin. It made Hitler even madder. We were advised of th’ situation through our radio link, and were able to give th’ Fuehrer exactly what he wanted.
“Within 48 hours, we dispatched a full report of th’ action. Th’ source? Th’ AOA. Immediately after th’ battle, th’ U.S. War Department commissioned th’ AOA to send a delegation to Montevideo to investigate th’ circumstances of both th’ battle and its aftermath. Th’ delegation’s final report was made available to interested AOA members very soon after they returned. Less than a month after th’ action, we were able to put this report, which was sent through our New York Consulate’s radio link, into Hitler’s hands. For this, and several other coups of similar stature, th’ Kramer operation became very highly regarded within th’ Reich’s intelligence community. So much so that th’ Ambassador, through th’ chief of United States Abwehr operations in Washington, came to confide in Kramer as th’ war in Europe expanded in th’ Atlantic and throughout Poland, France and into Russia.
