Churchill raised the snifter to his nose, swirled the brandy and took a swallow. “I’ve been told much the same thing by others who have met him but they were not German like you. I’m told by them Hitler has an agreeable manner, a disarming smile and a subtle personal magnetism. Would you agree?”
Sturm merely smiled and wordlessly nodded his assent.
“And would you not also concur that Herr Hitler’s party platform, so to speak, has two goals: to cure unemployment and, through rearmament, regain Germany’s place in Europe that it had before the Great War?”
“That is a fair assessment of Hitler’s primary goals. Do you find fault with them?”
“No, young man, I don’t. I think Germany has many legitimate grievances beginning with the absurd French delusion that they could extract vast indemnities from the Germans in order to compensate them for all the devastation the war had cost them. After all, they were the ones who mobilized those vast armies first, not the Kaiser. Moreover, the territorial arrangements in Europe insisted upon by the French at Versailles also created many racial injustices among the German-speaking peoples which need to be corrected. While minor progress has been made on reparations, no efforts have been made by the Western powers to address these racial anomalies whether they be in Poland, Czechoslovakia or Lithuania.”
Sturm’s eyes narrowed at this as he said in a tight voice “Posen. My family’s estate in Pomerania was confiscated by the Poles. The farm families who had looked to us for four generations to protect and provide for them were forced off our land by the Polish Army. I will not rest; Hitler will not rest; and Germany will not rest until our land is returned.”
“That is my point precisely which I repeatedly make to those who advocate disarmament, the United States especially.” Churchill paused and gave Sturm another measure of brandy. “I have always believed in the doctrine that the redress of the grievances of the vanquished should precede the disarmament of the victors. Until you and Herr Hitler are prepared to rest after your grievances over places like Posen are redressed, disarmament is folly and will only lead to another war. But enough of politics. What about the Jews? Herr Hanfstaengl seemed positively tongue-tied when I mentioned them the other evening. Yet Mattie tells me that you hold no ill-feeling towards the Jews and that, despite all the evidence to the contrary in Mein Kampf and elsewhere, you don’t believe Hitler is an anti-Semite either. Pray tell me why.”
Again, Sturm seemed a bit off-put by the mention of Mattie having confided in Churchill about him but, again, he quickly recovered. “It is true Mattie and I have discussed this. I don’t know many Jews but the ones I do are good Germans, honorable and patriotic. Perhaps Hitler may have had a different experience. This could explain the undeniably negative attitude towards Jews which he displays in Mein Kampf. But what I find more significant is that since 1930 he no longer attacks the Jews in his public speeches. Or privately, for that matter, at least with me and Mattie as well. What that says to me is that Hitler may have used the Jews as scapegoats in his early days for political reasons but no longer does. He once told me that no man can be held responsible for the circumstances of his birth.”
Churchill paused, took a small sip of brandy and then poured Sturm another generous measure. “Herr Himmler and Herr Goebbels do not show a similar restraint.”
“I agree. They are true anti-Semites.”
“But they are both very close to Hitler. Doesn’t that give you pause? Especially given Himmler’s sacrifice of that English girl at Castle Wewelsburg last year? And their attempt to kill Mattie as well? You saw what the SS are capable of even before this abomination of the SS murder of the American twins.”
Sturm stood up and downed the rest of his brandy, running his hands through his blond hair as he began to pace. Helpfully, Churchill refilled Sturm’s snifter. Sturm saw this, stopped pacing, and returned to rescue the snifter from which he took a grateful gulp. “Yes, Mr. Churchill, it does give me pause. Very much so. Which is why I will be resigning from the party. As I mentioned to all at dinner tonight, I have been offered command of a new airship by my father’s good friend, Hugo Eckener of Zeppelin Reederei. Hugo is not political and declined to run for president against Hitler and Hindenburg this year even though he is the most popular man in Germany, thanks to the world-wide voyage of the Graf Zeppelin in 1929. That will provide a convenient excuse for my doing so.”
“Ah yes, I recall that voyage very well Herr Sturm. It is when we first met at Mr. Hearst’s home in San Simeon where the zeppelin had been scheduled to land. I later listened with great interest to Herr Eckener’s speech in Los Angeles about the peaceful nature of airships. But pray explain why this would cause you to leave the Nazi party when it is on the cusp pf power?”
“Eckener hates the Nazis. So does the woman I love. That plus what I know of Himmler is enough for me.” Sturm once more drained his brandy snifter.
Chuchill paused and refilled Sturm’s glass. Was he referring to Mattie? Or the American woman who had assassinated Verschuer? Best not to inquire, he thought. “Is that entirely wise?”
“What do you mean?”
“I do not share your benign view of Herr Hitler. That is why I asked to meet him on this trip to Germany. To assess him for myself and not through the eyes of others. But, alas, it was not to be and thus Hitler has lost the chance of meeting me. But suppose you are correct about him? Suppose that, once German grievances are appeased, we may yet live to see Hitler a gentler figure in a happier age?”
Churchill watched with approval as Sturm took a sip from the brandy in his newly refilled snifter before resuming his monologue. “If that is to happen, Hitler will need men around him to whom honor and integrity are the values which guide their lives rather than the duplicity and hatreds which inspire the likes of Himmler and Goebbels and the other thugs around them. He may be a consummate actor as you suggest but I sense that Hitler both likes and respects you. Much as he does Hermann Göring. Perhaps it is the Blue Max you both wear? In any event, while Mattie has made me appreciate your desire to once more command an airship, I don’t think it should also be the occasion where you abandon Herr Hitler to the tender mercies and advice of the likes of Himmler and Goebbels. He will need help to offset and restrain excesses like the ones you have witnessed at Verschuer’s clinic.”
Sturm shook his head in resignation. “I understand but, like Hugo, I am not a political man. What could I possibly do to offset the advice of a Himmler or Goebbels?” Sturm raised his blond head and looked up at Churchill expectantly. ‘I want to help Hitler but what could I do?”
Churchill smiled. The hook had been well-baited and the fish was now on the line. The battle was about to begin. He liked his chances. “Let me explain,” he said as he once more refilled Sturm’s glass while taking a small sip from his own and a puff from his cigar. Would he land the fish? He didn’t know. The last time had been off Catalina Island in California on the yacht of William Randolph Hearst. The marlin had been tough. He had been tougher. Then as now, he relished the challenge.
AN hour later, Churchill closed the door of his suite on the departing figure of of the former Imperial German naval airship commander Kapitänleutenant Kurt von Sturm, nee Strasser. Had he succeeded? He really didn’t know. He hoped so. But Sturm hadn’t let on, despite numerous opportunities to do so, who was the woman he loved who had prompted his tentative decision to leave the Nazi party. Mattie? Or the American? He hoped it was the latter. If it were not, he feared for the future of his old mentor’s son with his god-daughter. Mattie loved Bourke, that much he knew because she had told him so. But, though she hadn’t said so, he strongly suspected she loved Kurt von Sturm as well even if she was not yet aware of it. But he thought she was.
Was Churchill surprised at this? Not really. Most people, hopefully including his dear wife Clemmie, would be but he knew better. His first love had been Pamela Plowden about whom he had once improvidently written from India to his mother that she was the only woman wi
th whom he could ever live happily everafter. His worldly-wise mother had kept his confidence and Churchill was to learn, in due time, that he had been wrong. Thanks to his beautiful Clemmie. Five children had been proof of that. But the fact remained that he and Pamela had remained the closest of friends and still corresponded when apart, Winston carefully destroying her letters today just as he had promised he would do when he was a young subaltern in India.
The point, Churchill well knew, was this. You could love more than one person. Had Pamela said “yes” and ignored her parents’ importuning that she marry a much wealthier Earl, Clemmie would have remained a “might have been.” As it was, he still loved Pamela even though Clemmie was undeniably first in his heart. It wasn’t quite the same with Bourke and Mattie but it was close. Whoever was the first to propose to her had the inside track. Much as he admired the young German with the Blue Max, he was rooting for his American mentor’s son with the Silver Star. Why hadn’t that boy proposed before now?
91.
An Unusual Proposal
Hotel Continental
Munich
Monday, 6 June 1932
A big help you’ve been!” Mattie said back over her shoulder, slamming the door to their hotel suite as she left. Mattie usually didn’t feel guilty after fights with Cockran because, invariably, he was wrong and she was right.
This morning was different. They had fought last night but that was about Ted Hudson and the U.S. Embassy cover-up story that he had been killed in a hunting accident when in fact the damn Nazis had probably done it. To her, Ted was a hero for having attempted to rescue the twins at the Clinic. Bourke hadn’t agreed and suggested that Ted’s confidential source in the SS had been a double agent who had duped Ted. Telling Cockran that she was keeping Ted’s by-line on the story hadn’t improved things. But that wasn’t why she felt guilty now.
As she waited for the elevator, she nervously fingered the cream-colored envelope in her jacket which had been slipped underneath the door to their suite during the night. Thank God she had been up to retrieve it before Cockran awoke. Would they have had the fight this morning if she hadn’t read the message in the envelope? She thought so. But maybe not. Had she over-reacted to Cockran’s critique of the first draft of her story? No, damn it! He was wrong! Laughlin and Davenport ought to be indicted as accessories to murder! Why couldn’t she just say so? She sighed. Lawyers!
Still, Mattie’s guilt was there and the message in the envelope was the reason why. As she stepped into the elevator, she opened the envelope and re-read the message:
Dear Mattie,
Ingrid left early this morning to rejoin her brother and sister in Vienna. I must talk to you as soon as possible. Bayerische Hof, Room 825. There are personal matters on which I urgently seek your advice.
Until then, I remain,
Yr most obedient servant,
Kurt
What gave Mattie pause–and guilt–was that a recovering Ingrid had planned to spend all week with Kurt before joining her brother and sister next weekend in Vienna. Now, Ingrid was unexpectedly gone and Kurt had invited her to his hotel room to discuss “personal matters”. She had told Cockran that she was going to the Hearst bureau office to finish her story. True. But she was stopping first to meet her former lover in his hotel room. Alone.
How would that look to Cockran? Not good. Not good at all. So why hadn’t she told him? Cockran seemed more tolerant of Sturm than before but this message wouldn’t help. Kurt was a former lover, emphasis on former, but he was still a friend who was asking for her advice. Prelude to a seduction? Maybe. But, unlike that nightcap in Ohio with Ted Hudson, she couldn’t be sure. For that reason, Kurt deserved the benefit of her doubt.
Would she tell Cockran at some point? Perhaps. It all depended on exactly what the personal matters were on which Kurt wanted her advice.
Mattie knocked on Sturm’s door and he opened it immediately. He was dressed in a suit and tie, but the circles under his eyes signaled that he hadn’t had much sleep while the redness suggested he had too much to drink the night before. Cockran had mentioned to her Churchill’s invitation last night to Sturm—and no one else—for brandy and cigars in his suite. Mattie was just as curious as Bourke as to what that was all about. Maybe that—and not the two of them—would be what they discussed. She hoped so.
Sturm extended his hand and Mattie took it, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, which he returned. Should she have done that? Was it warm in here or was it her? Why kid herself? She was alone with an attractive man who once had been her lover and probably loved her still.
“You look like you had a rough night, Kurt. How late did Winston keep you up?”
Sturm grinned and the hard planes of his face softened in much the same way Cockran’s did. “I admire Mr. Churchill’s, ah.… capacity for alcohol. He seemed none the worse for wear when I left his rooms at 3 a.m. But, as for me,” Sturm said and shrugged, “not even the coldest of showers this morning could disguise my condition.”
“Did Ingrid leave suddenly?” Mattie asked. “At dinner last night, I had the impression she was going to spend the week here and meet her brother and sister in Vienna next weekend.”
Sturm turned away and walked to the window. “Well…her plans have changed.”
“What happened?” Mattie asked.
“As I mentioned at dinner, I have a new job offer from Zeppelin Reederie to command an airship. I told Ingrid first thing this morning that I was going to accept the offer. But I also told her that I had reconsidered my earlier decision to resign from the Nazi party. She demanded to know why but I told her that it was not something I felt comfortable discussing with her. She demanded I stick to my original decision and, when I refused, she left for Vienna.”
“I don’t understand. I think you should leave the Nazis also. Why did you reconsider?”
Still looking out the window, Sturm spoke in a soft voice. “Mr. Churchill has made an unusual proposal which, if I accept, requires me to remain a party member in good standing.”
92.
Who Knew?
Hotel Continental
Munich
Monday, 6 June 1932
COCKRAN hated arguments with Mattie, especially when he was right and she wasn’t. Which was most of the time. He was alone in their hotel suite, finishing the remains of a late breakfast. Their arguments usually involved her work and this one had been no exception. But, on this occasion, it hadn’t been about her risk taking. Or about the dangerous nature of her assignments. Nope. Cockran had long ago added those to the short list of forbidden subjects.
Who knew giving your lover legal advice on libel should have been added to the forbidden list? After all, she had asked him to read a draft of her article and tell her what he thought. True, libel was not his specialty – – that was international commerce — but his father had represented Joseph Pulitzer and the New York World in quite a few libel lawsuits. He had read briefs and trial transcripts in those cases while writing his father’s biography and had a fairly good handle on the law of libel. That hadn’t been good enough for Mattie.
“A big help you’ve been!” were her last words as she headed toward the door, turning to look back at Cockran. “We’ll see what W.R. has to say about all this. I thought you were a better journalist than that. I really did.” With that, Mattie had slammed the door.
Well, Cockran thought, he was a better journalist than that. Mattie had written a great story. Unfortunately, she had asked him his opinion as a lawyer, not a journalist. As a lawyer, he knew the gist of the story carried the plain implication that the Waterman Foundation, the Rockefeller Foundation and the Carnegie Institution were up to their elbows in blood, having compiled a secret death list of twenty twins, twelve of whom had died horribly. The article also implied that Wesley Waterman, Harry Laughlin and Charles Davenport were either idiots or accessories to murder. He actually agreed with the accessories to murder part but Cockran the lawyer had offered a few revision
s, deletions mostly, to make the article more defendable.
Mattie the journalist, of course, had intended every single innuendo to which Cockran objected and had taken extensive pains to make sure that the reader would draw the correct conclusion from her otherwise true facts. Cockran could see that and, as a writer himself, he had nothing but admiration for how cleverly Mattie had done so. Cockran had been about to tell her that when her patience reached its limit and she went out in search of a higher authority. William Randolph Hearst himself. The Chief.
Cockran was disappointed but he thought he knew how to make things up with Mattie. Before their fight, he would have done so this evening at dinner. The time was ripe. Now, he couldn’t risk it. He was perpetually tardy but this was one time he dare not be late because he never could explain where he had been. Other tactics would have to be employed.
Cockran looked at his watch. 12:45 p.m. He didn’t have much time. He placed a paper bag on the bed, sat down at the room’s desk and pulled out a sheet of hotel stationery. Twenty minutes later, he finished at the desk and began placing the folded sheets of stationery at strategic locations in the room. He pinned the last sheet to the paper bag on Mattie’s pillow.
The Gemini Agenda Page 45
