Friedrich came back over and introduced Johanna to his friends. The one with the acne was Max Schlosser, the older one was Hans Richter and the muscular one was Carl-Heinz Kohl. Johanna's fears about them accepting her were quickly erased. They seemed to fight with one another to tell her all about themselves, their supreme importance in the Bund and the Nazi movement as a whole. As it turned out, Richter was indeed a schoolteacher – of what he never said; Schlosser was an unemployed factory worker and aspiring actor; and Kohl was a stevedore on the Brooklyn docks.
It soon became clear to Johanna, after she suffered through two hours of listening to Nazi clichés and slogans, that none of these men had any of the importance or influence that they pretended. From what she could gather, the Bund, abandoned by its membership and divested of its camps and retreats, had been reduced to a small core of fanatics that did nothing but agitate amongst themselves and hold poorly attended rallies.
Johanna lied about remembering a phone call she had to make. As she went to leave, Kohl escorted her to the door and invited her to the next Bund meeting on Friday night at Ebling’s Casino. He then asked if she would go to dinner with him after the meeting. She left, trying not to run out the door.
13
Johanna was surprised to see a large crowd gathered around the entrance to Ebling's Casino. She hadn't expected the Bund's Friday night meeting to be so well-attended. As she got closer she saw that while there were quite a few people going inside for the meeting, most of the crowd was there to protest. There were a few placards, one reading "Stop the Fifth Columnists and the Nazi Trojan Horse!" another referring to the un-American nature of the Bund and its members.
Johanna squeezed through the crowd, holding her hand up to hide her face from the protesters as she went in the front door. Ebling's Casino had always been a popular spot in the Bronx. Her parents had often brought her and Friedrich to see German singing groups. It had since become a popular meeting place for the Bund. The small façade that faced the street opened up into a large hall inside, row upon row of chairs lined up in front of the wide stage decorated with red, white and blue bunting. Long swastika banners hung from the ceiling, waving in the streams of fans.
There was no place to hide in this open hall, so Johanna selected a seat off to the side where she hoped the shadows would cover her. She sat down and looked around at the hundreds of people – men, women and children – that were milling around and finding their seats. As was her experience in Germany, these American Nazis were remarkable only in their sheer ordinariness, hardly Goebbels' Aryan supermen or the sneering sadists from the movies.
After a few minutes, she heard applause from the back and turned to see the crowd stand up as one. She got up and strained to see what was happening.
Coming up the center aisle she could see the top of an American flag with a German swastika flag right beside it, both bobbing with the stride of the color guard. Over the noise of the cheering crowd she could hear the steady beat of boots marching. As the marchers came up the aisle she could see they were the gray-shirted Ordnungs-Dienst, the Bund's Storm Troopers. She felt instantly transported to Germany. As a student at Heidelberg, she had seen many such marches – the SA, SS, Hitler Youth and other uniformed branches of the Nazi party had regular ceremonies in the town squares all over Germany. The Bundists had recaptured the mood perfectly.
As the color guard passed her row, she could see the OD members go by in their black pants, gray shirts and shining jackboots. While the thought of Nazis always evoked images of thuggish behavior, these spectacles always evoked the same feelings in her: how could anyone be taken in by this mindless pageantry? At the rallies she witnessed in Germany, she noted that their effectiveness seemed more due to the banners, uniforms and torchlight parades than from anything the speakers were saying.
Now she was witnessing the same phenomenon happening again. Looking around, she saw the beaming faces of the crowd, each of them bursting with pride at the sight of the OD. She suspected that this display of Nazi solidarity was what gave people the idea that all Germans were Nazis. It certainly solidified her own feelings on the subject. If it was correct that most Bundists were naturalized Germans, it would tend to prove her contention that German culture was the root of Hitlerism, not ethnicity. It would be an interesting side note to work with the Bund to investigate this further.
The color guard deposited their flags in a stand by the podium and the OD filed to the front, sitting down together in front of the stage. The applause began again as one of the OD members got up and ascended the stage. Johanna leaned over to the woman in front of her and asked who the man was.
Acting angry at the intrusion, the young woman turned to her and said, "That's Gerhard Kunze!"
Gerhard Kunze, the "Bundes Führer", took his place at center stage. Only his head could be seen over the podium which was obscured by a large block swastika cutout painted to look like it was bursting from the ground. Johanna thought that Kunze looked like an overweight veteran squeezed into his old boyhood uniform. The black collar on his OD uniform cut into his flabby throat and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. The applause died down and everyone took their seats.
"Racial comrades, I come here tonight to speak to you about the future of our beloved Volksbund," he began, wiping his forehead with a white handkerchief. Johanna was surprised that he didn't have a trace of a German accent. Could he be an American?
"Like our Aryan brothers and sisters in the Fatherland, we are under attack from all sides by the Jew and his collaborators. As many of you know, we have suffered another grievous blow at the hands of our conniving enemy. The state of New Jersey, in an obvious abuse of its power, has forced us to shut down CampNordlund."
With that, angry shouts went up from the crowd. Kunze raised his arms to quiet them.
"I know…I know. The town of Andover and the state of New Jersey have harassed us to the point where we can no longer serve alcohol in our camp restaurants or proudly wear our uniforms on our own property. They have followed the lead of their fellow criminals in Yaphank, New York, where our beloved CampSiegfried has lain abandoned these last two years. Please be assured that we will do everything in our power to reverse these injustices and reopen both Nordlund and Siegfried."
He paused while the crowd responded, punctuating their applause with the Nazi salute.
"In the meantime, Else Waalen will lead a committee to re-establish our youth programs at another location.
"I have a few other items to discuss with you before we move on to the discussion of the Bund's finances. First, in today's Herald-Tribune Fiorello LaGuardia…," he looked up from his speech to smile at the audience. "…the Communist mayor of New York…," he continued, to laughter, "has proclaimed that he doesn't confuse 'good German-Americans with the Bundists.' Well, Comrade Mayor, let me remind you that there are no 'German-Americans', there are only Germans living in America!"
Again, the crowd erupted in applause.
That strange remark confused Johanna for a moment, but she decided it must be some reference to the volksdeutsche concept. The applause died down and Kunze continued.
"Speaking of collaborators, I also have a message for our Jew-in-Chief, Frank D Rosenfeld," he said to hoots of derision from the assemblage. "And it is also a message for all of you and our racial comrades throughout the nation. As the war-mongers in Washington push for us to fight against the Fatherland in their battle for survival, we are told we must register for the draft. We are told that we must be ready for when the Jews and Communists finally dispose of our cherished neutrality and we are forced to war. I tell you now, and urge you to repeat this to all Aryans across this country, obey the law and register, but when you are called, the needs of Germandom demand you refuse induction!"
The crowd response was tepid. Kunze began to shout.
"Do not be enslaved and forced to fight your racial comrades! Stand by Hitler so that we may never be the pawns of Jews or Bolsheviks ever again!"
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The smatterings of applause grew slightly louder, but it was clear to Johanna that most didn't share his conviction. That's odd, she thought. I wouldn't have expected these Germans to be so uneasy at the idea of defying American authority.
Kunze continued in this vein, returning to the safer ground of ridiculing District Attorney Thomas Dewey for "persecuting" former Bundesleiter Fritz Kuhn and mocking Martin Dies, a Jewish Congressman who had spearheaded investigations of the Bund by the House Un-American Activities Commission.
After Kunze's speech was over, he briefly attended to the business of the Bund's finances. It was clear that the organization had serious money problems. Most of the discussion centered on new and creative ways to raise money now that all of their advertisers had left the Bund newspaper and former Bund leader Kuhn's legal expenses had emptied the treasury.
At the conclusion of the meeting, everyone rose to sing the Nazi anthem – the Horst Wessel song – and the Star Spangled Banner. In the shadows, Johanna shook her head at the incongruity of the two anthems, an irony clearly lost on all present. As the last refrain came to an end, she began to look around for her brother. She wanted to get an introduction to one of the higher-ups to seek membership, but she couldn't see Freddy. She cursed her bad planning. Expecting a small turn-out, she opted to go by herself to avoid being seen with Friedrich and his friends. Not wanting the evening to be a waste, she made her way to the front of the ballroom.
Winding her way through the streams of departing people, members blocking the aisles in conversation, she found herself standing next to the stage. An OD man had his back to her and was speaking to three elderly men who were nodding enthusiastically. Johanna excused herself and asked the white-haired man nearest her who she could talk to about joining the Bund. All four men turned to smile at her, and she saw with a start that the OD man was Kunze himself.
"Well, hello, my dear," he said with an obsequious bow and a smile. "I believe I can help you with that. Will you excuse us, gentlemen?"
With that he offered his arm and escorted Johanna to the first row of seats. When they had sat down, his pleasing demeanor promptly disappeared.
"Will you please tell Mr. Dewey that no number of pretty girls will fool me into letting down my guard? It's really quite insulting," he said with a glare.
Johanna felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. She gave him a baffled look. "I'm sorry… I…I don't follow you." Have I blown it before I've even begun?
"Please, I have lost count of how many agents have been sent to spy on me and the Bund. You are neither the first, nor, I'm sure, the last. Good night." He stood up and started to walk away. Johanna saw the success of her mission leaving with him and grabbed his elbow. He turned around with an angry look.
"No, wait, I'm not with the police, or whatever you're thinking. I'm Friedrich Falck's sister. He said I should come tonight…"
"Oh!" he interrupted. "I'm sorry, you should have said so." Kunze's broke into a smile again, and his friendly demeanor returned. He sat back down and leaned in close to Johanna. "So, Friedrich, yes, he's a good man. What did you say your name was?"
"Johanna."
"Ah, Johanna, the pleasure is all mine," he replied, leaning in even further to kiss her hand.
You're right about that part, she thought, forcing herself to smile back at him. She could smell the mustiness of his uniform as his eyes roamed over her body. Let's get on with this.
"Yes, so, I was wondering what I'd have to do to join," she said, sliding away from him. He seemed to sense her lack of interest and adopted an officious air, as if he was rejecting her and not the other way around.
"Yes, yes. Come to our office, 175 East 85th Street, on Monday. Fill out some papers, pay your dues and you can join. Simple as that. Now, if you'll excuse me." He inclined his head formally and stood up. He walked over to a young freckled OD man, flanked by what must have been his parents, flushed with pride. They all posed for a picture.
Johanna went for the exit, wanting to leave while she could still hide herself in the crowd. Outside, the heat had gone down with the sun, a welcome relief from the stuffy ballroom. A lone protester remained on the sidewalk, holding a sign with a bloody finger drawing a swastika. She turned to hail a cab and ran right into Agent Wexler.
He caught himself from being knocked into a lamppost.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. When she recognized him, she eyed him suspiciously and then looked around. As much as she didn't want another go-round with Wexler, she was more concerned about being stuck here where someone might see her milling around with Bundists. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a low voice.
He chuckled in that way that had so infuriated her the other day.
"I'm attending a spelling bee. What do you think I'm doing? It doesn't take much detective work to read a sign that says 'Bund Meeting, Ebling's Casino, Friday' and then connect the dots." He tipped his straw Panama hat back and squinted at her. "So, what did you think of your man Kunze?"
All Johanna wanted to do was to get away from the Casino and these Bundists, and most especially Wexler. She reminded herself to cooperate with him.
"He's contemptible. I can't think of anything else to say about him."
"Mmm hmm. So, where's your brother?" he asked, with an exaggerated look around her.
She struggled to keep calm. "I don't know –I came here by myself."
"Really? And how did your first foray into undercover work go?"
Johanna savored the moment before she answered as casually as she could, "Fine. I'm going on Monday to fill out the paperwork."
He squinted even more. "Paperwork?"
"Yes, paperwork," she said, grinning. "Membership paperwork."
Johanna's grin broke into a full smile as Wexler tried to hide his surprise.
"Hmmmph. Interesting," he mumbled, looking out into the traffic. "Well, I'll be keeping my eye on you." He jammed his hands into his pockets and turned away from her, surveying the crowd.
Johanna hailed a cab and couldn't help smiling the entire way home.
As part of her official cover as an NYU adjunct professor, either Charlie or Pollack had somehow persuaded the university to set aside a small office for Johanna on campus. Whether by design or by chance, they had assigned her a fifth floor space in the MainBuilding overlooking Washington Square. Sitting at her empty desk by a single tall window, Johanna looked out onto the park and felt guilty that she had been given this no-doubt coveted spot, considering how rarely she would be using it. So far she had only been here once to pick up her State Department paycheck, mailed to her in care of the history department.
Today she was finally getting around to calling Charlie Daly after being in New York for so long. Her last instructions from Eve and Pollack had been to check in with him regularly, since she reported directly to him and was his responsibility.
Her office had a chair with a missing arm and a black telephone sitting atop a small, old desk with stuck drawers. She had been sitting at that desk for almost a half an hour, staring out the window at the people in the park below, her hand on the phone. Finally, she picked it up and dialed Charlie's office.
A secretary picked up after one ring and asked her to hold.
While she waited, Johanna thought about what she wanted to say to Charlie. She would start with a quick summary of what she had accomplished to date: she had made contact with the Bund, attained membership and attended a few meetings. No one in the Bund seemed the least bit suspicious of her, probably because of her brother's association. She had broached the subjects of the DAI, volksdeutsche repatriation and returning to Germany, but it seemed that Kunze was the only one who would be any help and she hadn't yet been able to get another audience with him.
She had come to the most critical part of the Bund-infiltration portion of her assignment. Without the help of the Bund, it was unlikely she would find another way into Germany. She knew that the Bund had been heavily involved with the DAI and other volksdeutsche o
rganizations. When she met with Kunze she would make a point of asking about Walter Kappe, a former Bund press secretary who had since gone on to head the America Desk at the Foreign Institute. She was sure there must be many others with similar ties, but Kappe was the man everyone thought would be her best bet.
So far, everything had been going well, much to Johanna's surprise. In the last few days, however, she had become more concerned about the second half of this assignment: going to wartime Germany. The papers had daily accounts of massive British bombing raids on German cities. RAF Bomber Command had been battering Cologne, Hamburg, Mannheim, Bremen and other major cities. Nothing she had seen mentioned Stuttgart, where the DAI was located and where she was headed if everything worked as planned. If the British penetrated further into Germany, she could find herself in real trouble.
Fifth Column Page 8
