Fritz left Berlin on March 16 or 18, 1945. Professor Sauerbruch had asked him to take his wife along, so that, including the baby, there were four people in the car. Everyone was squeezed into the front seat, since the back seat was filled with an impressive quantity of suitcases and Oriental rugs belonging to Karl Ritter and his young companion. The passengers had to shift their legs to the right so that Fritz could operate the gearshift. Comical at first, this situation soon became embarrassing.
At first, Fritz intended to leave at breakfast time, but an American air raid forced him to delay getting on the road until noon. The sky was gray, the cold biting, and there was ice on the roads. Fritz could see nothing in the limousine’s rearview mirror because of everything piled in the back seat (there was even a baby carriage tied to the top of the car). The journey promised to be arduous; they had to drive early in the morning or in the early evening to avoid attacks from hedgehopping enemy fighters. The brakes on the Mercedes did not work well, and the car broke down on the very first night. They had to be towed by a truck belonging to the SS, secured through the savoir faire of Karl Ritter. The SS truck had a charcoal-burning motor and went no faster than thirty kilometers an hour, with frequent stops to clean the pipes, so that it took almost four days to get from Berlin to Bavaria. Between Berlin and Munich, there were four to six identity checks, carried out either by the army or by SS units.
Crossing the country from north to south, they had the impression that they were in a scene from the Thirty Years’ War. Families of refugees were walking toward no specific destination; they could see dead animals in the fields; they came across burned-out vehicles on the sides of the road. The branches of the trees were often covered with strips of aluminum foil dropped by enemy planes to jam German radar. The singer and her baby spent the entire trip crying and screaming. Fritz was more than impatient to reach Bavaria.
When he got to the town of Kempten, in the Allgäu region of Bavaria, Fritz was finally able to rid himself of Karl Ritter’s mistress, the baby, the baby carriage, the car, and the SS. Too bad about the car, he thought, but the escort was a little burdensome. Still accompanied by Professor Sauerbruch’s wife, he then went to Ottobeuren, not far from there, where the prelate Georg Schreiber was waiting for him, living in hiding in a large Benedictine monastery. Fritz was able to rest for a day or two in Ottobeuren, although he continued his activities. He took the time to photograph in the monastery library some documents that he had brought with him from Berlin. Thanks to the protection of the monks, he was not obliged to register with the local police as a traveler who was passing through. The atmosphere of the cloister impressed him a great deal, especially the meals in the great hall of the monastic community. The feeling was restful, and the food in Bavaria was better than in Berlin: potatoes were not rationed.
The pause was short-lived. A few days later, Fritz Kolbe and Margot Sauerbruch took the train from Ottobeuren to Weiler, an Allgäu village that was the home of Wilhelm Mackeben, a businessman, former diplomat, and friend of Fritz. Despite the short distance, they had to change trains twice. As they were waiting for the connection at Memmingen, Fritz and Margot Sauerbruch had the terrifying experience of being stopped by a Gestapo brigade that took them into a windowless office to be interrogated. After a few frightening moments, Fritz realized that this was probably a simple routine procedure. Margot’s suitcase was inspected but not Fritz’s bag, which contained some highly compromising rolls of film. Fritz grew angry and demanded to be treated with all the respect due an official courier of the Foreign Ministry, pointing out that his papers were in order, including his exit visa from Germany. The policeman called the Gestapo in Munich to verify that Herr Fritz Kolbe was indeed someone from the Foreign Ministry on an official mission. They were finally able to leave without further trouble. Professor Sauerbruch, who was in the area, was reunited with his wife, and Fritz continued the journey alone.
When he reached the village of Weiler, Fritz met with his friend Wilhelm Mackeben, who kept the doors of his chalet open to all kinds of people in a constant stream: During his stay, Fritz met a Peruvian woman, an Iranian student from Teheran who had been stranded in Germany since the beginning of the war, and two German officers with whom he had a long nighttime conversation. These two Wehrmacht officers were part of a detachment assigned to transport in trucks a substantial quantity of secret documents to be hidden in southern Germany. With a knowing air, Fritz pretended to know what was involved, which allowed him to learn more. The trucks were transporting documents on the Soviet Union, the Red Army, and even a list of pro-German agents infiltrated into the USSR. They belonged to a military espionage service with expertise on Russia, and their leaders intended to use their treasure as a bargaining chip with the Allies once the war was over.
Very pleased at having gathered this information, Fritz resumed his journey to Switzerland. He went to Bregenz on a bicycle that had been graciously lent to him by Mackeben’s Iranian student friend. In Bregenz, the Swiss consulate stamped his diplomatic passport without difficulty and confirmed the validity of his visa, good for a period of five days. It was April 2, 1945. The next day, he took the train at Sankt Margarethen for Zurich and Bern. The comfort was unexpected and there were no police barriers. The only check that Fritz had to go through was a medical check on entering Swiss territory: It was verified that he had neither dysentery, nor smallpox, nor scabies.
Bern, April 1945
“Wood arrived last night after laborious trip from Berlin, which he left about March 16.” This was the message Dulles cabled to Washington on April 4, 1945. On that day, the final pockets of German resistance were falling in the Ruhr, and the Allies were already in the center of the Reich (Kassel, Gotha, and Erfurt were in the process of being taken). Fritz was debriefed as usual, but the Americans in Bern had less need for him. Allen Dulles was entirely taken up with his secret negotiations with Karl Wolff, Himmler’s former right-hand man. This time, Ernst Kocherthaler took on the task of taking notes on his conversations with Fritz.
Fritz had a good deal to say, particularly about Japan. German Ambassador Heinrich Stahmer described the growing sense of political crisis in Tokyo and said he was convinced that the Japanese leaders were more and more unpopular among their people. In another cable, Stahmer set out in detail the latest technical developments in Japanese aviation. On the topic of Germany, Fritz provided the latest examples of the dissolution of Hitler’s power.
All of that was very interesting, but for Allen Dulles, the usefulness of “George Wood” had now changed its character. The head of the Bern office of the OSS wanted to make him a permanent employee, based with the Americans and able to return to Germany to fulfill precise missions as required. At first, he wanted to send him to southern Bavaria to investigate the setting up of a “national (Alpine) Redoubt” in which Dulles was convinced the Nazi leaders would take refuge to conduct their final battle. “Almost Wagnerian,” he said in his cables to Washington. Like Dulles, the leading American generals firmly believed in this scenario. For the moment, Fritz remained in Bern. Dulles asked him to investigate behind the scenes in the Reich legation, to encourage his fellow diplomats to resign, and to get hold of archive documents that might interest the Allies, notably on the financial affairs of the Nazi leaders who hoped to place their holdings in Switzerland after the defeat.
After five days in Bern, Fritz’s visa was no longer valid. From that moment on, his fate was entirely in the hands of his American friends. “George Wood” had become a stowaway living under the personal protection of Allen Dulles.
Berlin, April 1945
On April 21, 1945, Walter Bauer—the anti-Nazi entrepreneur associated with Fritz—came out of prison. He had been arrested in September 1944 in connection with the investigation of the 20 July plot and subjected to inhuman treatment for several months. On the day of his liberation, the Gestapo was considerate enough to give him two subway tickets so he could go home. Three days later, on April 24, 1945, Russi
an troops arrived in Berlin. Pillage and rape prevailed. Maria Fritsch had remained alone in the capital of the Reich, and Fritz had no news. She left no record about this terrible period, and no one will ever know how she lived through those days of sorrow, shame, and deliverance. On every corner could be seen bodies crushed by tanks, “emptied like toothpaste tubes.” The odor of death was mixed with the odor of springtime. In the midst of the ruins, birds, flowers, and fruit trees lived their lives as though nothing were happening.
The Charité hospital continued to fulfill its mission as well as possible. Doctors and medical personnel subsisted on whiskey and crackers and spent as much time in the hospital’s underground shelter as on the wards, three-quarters of which were destroyed. Professor Sauerbruch was back in Berlin. Adolphe Jung, still on his staff, recorded a constant flow of the wounded: “In the operating room, we are presented indiscriminately with soldiers and civilians, women and children, wounded. In the square in front of the hospital, despite the danger, the crowd still lines up at the bakery. A shell fell on the crowd of women and children. We have to operate without stopping” (April 22, 1945). “There are hardly any houses left in Berlin that have not been hit. Most of them have collapsed. Among those still standing, it is rarely possible to inhabit anywhere above the first floor. Of course there are no more telephones, no electricity or water, because even where the pipes are intact the pressure is so low that you can barely get a few drops in the cellars” (April 21). “Every two minutes, a large shell falls inside the walls of the hospital … When will I be hit?” (April 24).
On Tuesday, May 1, at 9:30 in the evening, Hamburg radio announced to the German people that serious news was about to be broadcast. Excerpts of Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony were played. Finally, Admiral Dönitz announced the death of the führer the day before in Berlin. At the Charité hospital, now treating Soviet soldiers, there was not much time to listen to the radio. The Third Reich was already practically forgotten; everyone was against it, had always been against it.
12
DISGRACE
Bern, late April 1945
In late April 1945, Fritz Kolbe was given a very delicate mission by the Americans. He had no idea that this episode would strike a severe blow against his reputation and would definitively ruin his career. The war was coming to an end. The Americans were preparing the cases against German leaders whom they intended to put on trial. They were intensely interested in Nazi financial holdings outside Germany, particularly in Switzerland. But the OSS had learned that the German legation in Bern was in the process of destroying its records in view of the imminent surrender. Allen Dulles sent Fritz as an emissary to Otto Köcher, the envoy of the Reich, to persuade him to stop the destruction of documents.
Otto Köcher was extremely irritated to see Kolbe, whom he had until then considered a subordinate and who now turned out to be a traitor. He answered very curtly, stating that he would not take any orders from the Americans, even less from a German who had gone over to the Allies. But Fritz Kolbe did not give up: He attempted to persuade Köcher that it was in his interest to resign from his position. The Americans were proposing to make him part of an embryonic pro-Allied government that could quickly put an end to the war. “You have to choose between Hitler and Germany. The whole world has its eyes on you,” Fritz explained to his compatriot. Otto Köcher was angry and indignant. Unlike Kolbe, Köcher had a sense of duty and patriotism. His son was serving in the Wehrmacht. He would remain at his post until the end, in accordance with the oath of loyalty to the führer that he had taken. There was nothing further to discuss. Fritz Kolbe was unceremoniously shown to the door.
On leaving the envoy’s residence, Fritz was arrested by two plainclothes Swiss policemen who were watching the comings and goings of Otto Köcher, who was suspected of engaging in major financial manipulations for the leaders in Berlin. Some of the financial reserves of the Foreign Ministry (dozens of kilos of gold pieces) had just been secretly shipped to Bern. Was the Swiss capital about to become a rear base for the hard-core supporters of the Reich? Was the gold going to finance a pro-Nazi fifth column in Switzerland? These were the fears of the Swiss authorities, largely shared by the Americans. Thanks to the intervention of Allen Dulles, at whose home Fritz was living, the suspicions of the Swiss police about Kolbe were quickly removed. But they did not want to release him right away. They too sent him to Otto Köcher to try to get an answer to the simple question: Where is the gold of the Reich? The following evening, following orders, Fritz Kolbe made a second visit to the diplomat. Of course, he was given no information. He barely had the time to warn Köcher on behalf of the Swiss authorities against any misappropriation of funds for which he could later be prosecuted. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Ribbentrop’s representative slammed the door in Fritz’s face.
The visits had accomplished nothing but to worsen the position of Otto Köcher in the eyes of the Americans. They did everything to ensure that the German diplomat would not receive asylum in Switzerland after the surrender of the Reich. Köcher had strong friendships in Swiss political circles and he had been promised that he could stay in Switzerland and not be handed over to the Allies. But the combined pressure of the Allies and a portion of Swiss public opinion caused the Federal Council to give in, and he was deported to Germany in July 1945. The former head of the German legation in Bern was placed in an American internment camp in Ludwigsburg, north of Stuttgart. The Allied military authorities began to question him about the secret relations between the Reich and Switzerland during the war. But they were unable to complete their investigation: On December 27, 1945, the body of Otto Köcher was found hanging in his cell. The “Köcher file,” so promising for the investigators assigned to dissect the machinations of the Third Reich, maintained all its mysteries.
Inside the Ludwigsburg internment camp, the death of Otto Köcher provoked lively discussions among the German prisoners, some of whom were former employees of the Foreign Ministry. One of them started a rumor that would spread and cause Fritz Kolbe great harm. He said that Köcher had been betrayed by a German. A scum. A traitor who had been working for the Americans for a good while. “His name: Fritz Kolbe.”
Hegenheim, May 1945
Fritz stayed in Bern until the middle of May 1945. It was there while he was staying with Allen Dulles that he learned of Germany’s surrender. He did not celebrate the event as it deserved, because everyday concerns had already come to the fore again. Fritz’s visa had long since expired, and he had to leave Switzerland. Allen Dulles had his agent secretly taken to an OSS barracks in Hegenheim, in Alsace, very near the Swiss border. Even though he was confident about his future, Fritz was growing bored and felt isolated far from his friends. To keep himself occupied, it was no longer enough to exercise and go running. He took English lessons and wrote various reports and memoirs for the Americans.
In April, Allen Dulles had asked him to supply a description of the state of affairs in the Foreign Ministry. The file was accompanied by a commentary by Fritz on each of its members, with good and bad marks (“This one is an out-and-out Nazi, that one might possibly be employed again at the ministry”). Before leaving Bern for Hegenheim, Fritz had been asked to write down a summary of his own history. The result was a seven-page document written in English by Ernst Kocherthaler, with the title “The Story of George.” Allen Dulles placed this document in his personal archives with the intention of using it one day. In Hegenheim, Fritz continued writing, throwing down on paper more details of his life as a spy, speaking of friends who had helped him during the war, giving their names and addresses in order to recommend them to the American administration.
But Fritz wanted action. He was soon given a new mission by Dulles: He was to go to Bavaria in search of Karl Ritter and especially of Ribbentrop, both of whom had disappeared and were actively sought by the occupation authorities. He was also asked to track down the secret archives on Russia whose existence he had revealed a few weeks earlier. The A
mericans provided him with a jeep and a driver. Fritz left on his assignment in early June. He was helped by the prelate Schreiber, who went with him for part of the trip. But he brought back no solid information and he even unknowingly relayed some useless tips (“Eva Braun was recently arrested on the banks of the Tegernsee”). He saw the Gauleiter of Munich fleeing (“He was seen on foot, with a knapsack, near Wiessee. He then headed toward Kreuth”). Beyond that, there was no trace of Ribbentrop or of Ritter, nor of the secret archives on Russia. Fritz Kolbe thought that the former foreign minister of the Reich had taken refuge in Italy, but he was mistaken. Ribbentrop was found by the British in Hamburg and arrested on June 14, 1945.
Wiesbaden, June 30, 1945
Even though he was no longer a spy in the strict sense of the word, “George Wood” continued to be useful to the Americans. In fact, he was considered a “person of reference,” whose opinion could be asked at any time to guide the actions of the American occupation authorities. In the context of the establishment of the international tribunal that was going to judge the Nazi criminals, the OSS asked him to give evidence to Judge Robert H. Jackson, who was preparing the cases for the prosecution. The meeting took place in early July in Wiesbaden, on the premises of the Henkell company (champagne, wines, and spirits), chosen more or less by chance as the new base for the OSS in Germany.
On entering Judge Jackson’s office, Fritz Kolbe was introduced for the first time to General Donovan. Donovan was eager to meet the celebrated “George Wood,” who had just been called “the prize intelligence source of the war” by the British secret services. “I was introduced by Allen Dulles with very warm words,” Fritz wrote to his friend Kocherthaler. The discussion concerned war criminals. Judge Jackson questioned Kolbe about the personalities of Ribbentrop and his closest collaborators. Fritz told what he knew of the actions of the former minister and described the climate that prevailed in the ministry during the war. He thought that Ribbentrop’s first crime had been to “persuade Hitler to invade Poland, while assuring him that Great Britain would not react.” He then spoke about Karl Ritter, whom he presented as a yes-man whose role had been to encourage Ribbentrop in his worst initiatives (notably the inhuman treatment meted out to prisoners of war, especially Soviet prisoners).
A Spy at the Heart of the Third Reich: The Extraordinary Story of Fritz Kolbe, America's Most Important Spy in World War II Page 23
