Betrayed: Secrecy, Lies, and Consequences

by Frederic Martini

  The Cuxhaven program was still gearing up when two atomic bombs were dropped on Japan, bringing the war in Asia to an abrupt end. The pressure to use the German expertise to defeat their former allies in Japan was now relieved. But this did little to dampen the enthusiasm of the Allies for utilizing the captured German brain trust, which was now seen by the JIOA as a hedge against future confrontations with the Soviet Union.

  By late August, the US was demanding that the Germans in London be returned to US control. It soon became a political hairball. The British Ministry of Supply had expected to divide the German technocrats evenly with the Americans, but now it seemed that the Americans wanted all of the key personnel. Cables flew back and forth, the British sounding slighted and aggrieved and the Americans unwilling to yield. Finally, a deal was struck where the Americans would get the specialists they coveted, but the British would be kept apprised of the developments and advances.

  After much ado, in early September, the British returned Wernher and several of the specialists who had accompanied him to Cuxhaven to the Americans. But to Wernher’s dismay, Walter Dornberger wasn’t released.142 Despite the political wrangling and secrecy concerns, Wernher’s leverage improved, as the Backfire program successfully launched three V-2s. The rockets performed as expected, traveling up to 155 miles before falling into the sea. The last launch was attended by representatives of each of the Allied forces (the Soviets included), plus a press crew.

  LtC. Toftoy’s group was now gathering the specialists from Bleicherode and the Mittelwerk at Landshut, a river town four miles northeast of Munich.143 A German army barracks in Landshut had been commandeered and converted to “Camp Overcast.” Wernher was impressed by how many Peenemünders had been collected. He knew that his report on the potential of his rocket programs had impressed Toftoy, and that the plan was for the rocket team to relocate to the US, but there were way too many people at the Overcast base. Would they all be relocating?

  When he asked, Wernher was told that there were three tiers of personnel at Landshut. The first tier consisted of essential people who would be shifted to the US to maximize their value. A second tier was for scientists and engineers who were of value to the US (and thus potentially to the Soviets) but who could do their work under supervision at Landshut. And third were the engineers and technicians that fell somewhere in between — they would be nice to have in the US, but they weren’t at the top of the priority list for transfer.

  LtC. Toftoy had received approval to move only 100 rocket specialists to the US. Since he was #1 on the list, Toftoy gave Wernher the job of triaging the rest. The chosen few that Wernher selected would be hired on six-month contracts before they left Germany. Because they were only entering on a temporary basis for military consultation, the men would not require visas from the State Department. After much deliberation, Wernher, who had expected everyone in the top tier to accompany him, was able to trim his list to 118 specialists, the most loyal and trustworthy members of his team.

  The six-month government contracts were between German Nationals and the US War Department. Wernher read through the paperwork very carefully before signing. The government would pay transportation from and to a stipulated address in Germany and provide a transit allocation of $6 per day. In turn, he would agree to work on research, design, development, and other scientific work as assigned. His travel would be restricted, but he would not be confined. Standard military housing would be provided, with medical care and food, plus vacation time and sick leave. He could bring his family and any dependents with him. He was delighted to find that his contract stipulated that an annual salary of $9,600 (the equivalent of a $126,500 salary today). It seemed almost too good to be true — not only would he be paid a great deal of money, but he would leave Germany before any awkward questions were raised about his wartime activities.

  On 18 September 1945, Wernher boarded a plane to the US, accompanied by six other members of the rocket team and nine German specialists in other fields. The rest of the rocket men and their families would follow over the next two months, traveling by ship from Le Havre.

  The group was flown to Delaware and then continued on to Fort Strong, a stark facility situated on a small island in Boston Harbor. Wernher spent two weeks there filling out forms and being interviewed by technical teams from various military departments. It was cold and boring, and he was very glad when Major Hamill, the officer who had packed up the V-2 components, arrived in early October. Hamill had come to escort Wernher and several colleagues to the DC area, so that Wernher could have meetings with LtC. Toftoy at the Pentagon. While in the DC area, von Braun and several others stayed at a secure government facility known as PO Box 1142, located at what is now Fort Hunt Park. This complex was originally a site where captured Nazi officials could be interrogated by Army officers fluent in German. Lt. Arno Mayer was assigned to the von Braun group, and he wasn’t comfortable with his orders. Rather than aggressively interrogating them for critical information, his role during the war, he was to wine and dine them, and to convince them that working for the Army would have plenty of fringe benefits. In their spare time, Arno took them on shopping trips to buy gifts for their families, who were still back in Germany at Camp Overcast. Wernher and the rest relaxed enough to slip back into some old habits, and when Arno heard Wernher refer to him as a “little Jew-boy” he stormed out, only to be told by his superiors to swallow his pride or be court-martialed.144

  Sometime over this period, Wernher learned that he was headed to Fort Bliss, in El Paso, Texas. Wernher was intrigued. Like the other Germans, he had heard of Texas, but only as the home of cowboys and banditos. Hamill and his charges boarded the train to El Paso on 6 October, arriving at Fort Bliss two days later. The group was not expected, because for security purposes, the use of Fort Bliss as a home for German scientists had not been announced, even to the base commander. For his part, von Braun was unimpressed by the desert location and the primitive base housing. He had been expecting something resembling Peenemünde in its heyday. There had been better quarters at remote V-2 test sites, and those facilities were nowhere near as dry and dusty.

  The Nuremberg War Crimes Trials began on 20 November 1945 and continued for the next 11 months. Had their true histories been known, many of the men delivered to Fort Bliss would have qualified as war criminals under the criteria used at Nuremberg. The list of defendants could have included Wernher von Braun, Arthur Rudolph, Herbert Axster, Georg Rickhey, and Magnus von Braun. But the JIOA had fully committed to their plans to use these men. In their view, the potential benefits to national security outweighed any other ethical or moral considerations. All necessary steps would be taken to ensure that the German contractees would not be held accountable for their actions during the war.

  135 This was one month after his brother Sigismund joined. His younger brother Magnus had joined the Nazi Party at 13, as a member of the Hitler Youth.

  136 Georg Rickhey, the General Manager at the Mittelwerk, had also buried important documents. A British intelligence officer got Rickhey to reveal where he had hidden 42 boxes of documents dealing with the V-1 and V-2 programs.

  137 Atrocities and Other Conditions in Concentration Camps in Germany, submitted to Congress on 15 May 1945 for approval and publication.

  138 Buchenwald Camp, The Report of a Parliamentary Delegation, published in April 1945. Given Eisenhower’s position regarding Nazi criminality, it is likely that the existence of the Buchenwald airmen was withheld from Eishenower, as well as from the congressional and parliamentary representatives.

  139 In WWII, noncoms were not considered to be as important or as reliable as commissioned officers. After the war, war crimes investigators primarily contacted noncoms who were named as witnesses in the depositions of officers.

  140 SWNCC 57/3, September 12, 1945

  141 Miscellaneous papers of Prof. R. V. Jones, Kew Archives, London, DEFE 40/21

  142 For the next two years, Dornberger would primarily be
held at Special Camp 11, in Brigend, Glamorgan, a POW facility set up to hold officers and noncoms under investigation for war crimes. His conversations with other officers were secretly recorded and analyzed.

  143 Ironically, this was one of the places Fred had been sent to clear bomb damage while he was at Stalag VIIA.

  144 Oral interview from NPR This American Life, Episode 595: Deep End of the Pool, Act Two, 26 August 2016

  CHAPTER 19

  Re-entry, 1945-1948

  DESPITE BEING SAFELY HOME, FRED’S nightmares continued with few interruptions, and toward the end of July, he began experiencing bouts of dizziness and sudden flashes of intense anxiety. These flashes could be triggered by anything sudden or unexpected, but they were especially severe when he was out of the house and moving along the local streets. If he caught a passing glimpse of a uniformed policemen or mailman, he reacted as if an SS guard was coming for him. Loud noises were bombs falling, and jackhammers were machine guns. More than once, he found himself crouching in a doorway or diving under a parked car, actions that usually attracted a small crowd of curious onlookers. He never tried to explain. He simply got up, brushed any debris off his clothing, and continued on his way, trying not to look anyone in the eye. He spent more and more time in Lucille and Eddie’s guest room, coming out only for meals.

  Once he was moved in, his sister Betty started to press Fred to ask her roommate, Boop, for a date. In the process, Fred learned some things about Boop that he found intriguing. He already knew she could write a good letter, but she had a lot of other things going for her as well. Before the war, she had worked as an executive secretary at Fort Dix, an Army base in New Jersey. While there, she had interviewed and hired Sheila, and the two had become pals. Sheila and Boop decided to enlist together, joining the SPARS (the women’s Coast Guard Reserve), shortly after its establishment in November 1942. They went to boot camp together, where they were assigned to a three-person room with Fred’s sister. The three women were soon fast friends, staying together for the rest of the war. After leaving Palm Beach, Florida, where Fred had first met Sheila and Boop, they were stationed in New York City, where they lived in a city apartment and worked on Governor’s Island. Boop was the senior noncom, a chief petty officer (equivalent in rank to a staff sergeant in the Army). She was an artist, she played the piano, she had graduated from college, taking business and accounting — Fred thought Betty made her sound like Wonder Woman.

  As he recalled, she was also very pretty, although when he met Boop, he had thought his sister’s roommates were off-limits. So he allowed himself to be prodded into asking Boop if she wanted to meet in the city for dinner. While at dinner, he asked why she had written to him. Boop said that his sister was always talking about him and how much fun he was (and it didn’t hurt that she thought he looked like a movie star, although she didn’t say that to Fred). She had heard many tales of Fred’s childhood escapades. According to his sister, he was always in trouble with their dad, and she was often the reason.

  Fred and Boop had a lot of fun together, which got Fred out of his room. They visited the bars, nightclubs, and restaurants together that he had frequented before the war. He was greeted like a prodigal son returning — everyone thought he had been killed in action. Drinks and meals were often on the house. Fred was overwhelmed by the response, and Betty Boop enjoyed everything about the commotion except the showgirls throwing themselves on Fred. Things got even more celebratory when Fred received his back pay. While that lasted, the motto of the day was “When Martini drinks, everybody drinks!”

  Over the same period, a movie documentary was produced that presented graphic images filmed at major concentration camps across Germany. Considerable time was devoted to Belsen, Ohrduf, Auschwitz, Mathausen, and Buchenwald, and several smaller camps were shown as well. Fred heard about it, but he had no interest in seeing it. Betty, Sheila, and Boop saw it, but they were so sickened by the experience that they dared not mention it to Fred.145

  Once Fred and Boop were an item, everyone decided that Boop wasn’t a great handle, so from that point on, Fred’s sister Betty was called Liz, and Boop went back to using Betty. Although Fred didn’t give her details of his wartime experiences, he did explain to Betty that he had lingering health issues, like his feet, and she already knew about his recent hospitalization. Betty slowly adapted to Fred’s other quirks, although it was sometimes challenging. The slow pace and the fact that their brief walks were followed by taking a seat were easily accommodated. But once, while strolling down Broadway in their evening clothes, a car backfired, and the next thing she knew, Fred was dragging her under a parked car. He had no idea how he had gotten there. Fred was embarrassed, but the only harm done was the ruination of her nylons.

  It was a whirlwind courtship, and by mid-July, they were engaged. But a minor crisis followed when he started experiencing a familiar stabbing pain in his abdomen and finding blood in his urine. He knew he had to do something, and on 18 July 1945, he forced himself out of the apartment and traveled across town to the Fort Hamilton Army Hospital. Fred, running a low-grade fever and in severe pain, was admitted with a tentative diagnosis of appendicitis and nephritis. While tests were conducted, he was kept quiet and simply endured the pain. As in previous episodes, Fred’s symptoms gradually subsided, and on 25 July, he was released with the notation “Appendicitis and nephritis not found on discharge.” Betty had written to him each day, sending the letters to “Fort Hamilton Hospital” and trusting they would reach him.

  Fred’s 60-day leave ended on 12 September, and he reported to the Dover Air Force Base to spend a week filling out innumerable forms and having a full physical exam. He did the rounds, visiting all of the various Army offices and getting signatures on a form certifying that he was ready to be discharged from military service. The process was eventually completed, and on 2 October, he was ordered to report to the AAF Separation Base in Newark, New Jersey, where on 8 October 1945, Fred received his Separation Qualification Record, listing his training and his responsibilities overseas. He was now out of the Army and unsure what would come next. But the rest of his back pay had arrived, so he and Betty spent evenings together several times each week, going out and having fun in the city.

  Fred’s back pay was just running out when he received notification of the determination regarding disability payments after separation from the service. His rating form documented that he was missing thirteen teeth, that he had pyorrhea (gum disease), and noted an observation for chronic appendix and nephritis observation in July 1945. It also cited evidence of malnutrition, mentioned the forced march he’d described, and noted his foot problems. In Fred’s application for disability, he had mentioned his dental problems and the acute appendicitis attacks at Buchenwald and in the Stalag camps, but those do not appear on his final rating sheet. In fact, there was no mention whatever of Buchenwald in the rating form, nor was it considered in his disability rating, because the Veterans Administration was unable to obtain any confirmation of Fred’s claims.

  It was not through lack of trying. Before making their disability determination, the VA contacted the Army, requesting information confirming what Fred had told them about his experiences and treatment overseas. The official response came in November 1945, from the office of Major General Edward F. Witsell (the Adjutant General). It was terse and to the point, saying, “Records of alleged treatment in Prison camp in Germany not now available. In the event that additional records are received, a supplemental report will be furnished to your office.” No further information was supplied (then or ever). As a result, all that the Veterans Administration had to go on was the congressional report on German concentration camps, which stated that no POWs had been held there.

  The conclusions reached by the Board of Review demonstrated how skeptical they were about Fred’s story. They felt his Buchenwald story was either a lie or a delusion, and they felt that his foot problems had no “organic basis,” which meant they were all in his head.
They could not decide whether he was actually in pain or goldbricking (making something up to inflate his compensation). They could see that he was suffering from extreme anxiety reactions — nobody could fake those symptoms — so they grudgingly decided to base compensation on the basis of psychoneuroses, which included extreme anxiety reactions, the “imaginary” pain in his feet, and his stubborn insistence that he’d been in Buchenwald.

  The Board of Review discounted the incidents of abdominal pain Fred had described, stating “No evidence of chronic appendix.” The only concession made was to note that his problems were “incurred in the line of duty” and were “likely to result in partial permanent disability.” Fred was told that he would be granted a 50% disability pension subject to annual review. To put this in perspective, a 50% disability provided a stipend of $59 per month (in today’s terms this would be $778 per month).

  Fred was scheduled for followup physicals at intervals. Living at Lucille’s, he was able to get by on his 50% disability, but he was unable to find work that didn’t involve spending the day on his feet. Fred filed another VA rating appeal, and was examined on 9 April 1946. The examining physician noted on his record that Fred’s blood pressure was 132/80 (a bit elevated), and recorded that Fred had pains in his feet and lower back, frequent colds, and chronic abdominal pain. He had been missing work, primarily due to his inability to stand.

  The doctor noted that Fred was irritable and jumpy, prone to sudden rages or sudden fears, accompanied by a pounding heart and a rapid pulse. The report continued in terse phrases: