Secret Honor
Page 3
(4) THE NAVAL OFFICERS WILL FIRST BE TAKEN ABOARD THE OCÉANO PACÍFICO AND THEN REPATRIATED TO THE FATHERLAND AS SPACE BECOMES AVAILABLE ABOARD U-BOATS RETURNING TO EUROPEAN PORTS.
(5) WHILE THE UNDERSIGNED HAS ASSUMED PERSONAL COMMAND OF OPERATION PHOENIX SINCE ARRIVING IN ARGENTINA, HE WISHES TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE CONTRIBUTIONS MADE BY AMBASSADOR GRAF VON LUTZENBERGER AND MEMBERS OF HIS STAFF, IN PARTICULAR FIRST SECRETARY ANTON VON GRADNY-SAWZ, MILITARY ATTACHÉ OBERST KARL-HEINZ GRÜNER AND ASSISTANT MILITARY ATTACHÉ FOR AIR MAJOR FREIHERR HANS-PETER VON WACHTSTEIN. THEIR IMMEDIATE GRASP OF THE IMPORTANCE OF OPERATION PHOENIX AND THEIR DEDICATION TO THE PRINCIPLES OF NATIONAL SOCIALISM AND THE FÜHRER HAS EARNED MY ADMIRATION.
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED:
JOSEF LUTHER GOLTZ
STANDARTENFÜHRER SS-SD
END APPENDIX ONE
END MESSAGE
* * *
The Comerciante Océano Pacífico, a Spanish-flagged merchantman, had been sent to Samborombón Bay in the Argentine section of the River Plate estuary ostensibly with the clandestine mission of replenishing the increasingly desperate South Atlantic U-boats. Replenishment was not, however, its only secret mission. It was also charged with smuggling into Argentina equipment and supplies intended to aid the escape from internment of the crew of the German pocket battleship Graf Spee, which had been scuttled in the harbor of Montevideo, Uruguay, in December 1939, after a running battle with the Royal Navy.
The repatriation of the Graf Spee crew was especially dear to the heart of Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, who had himself escaped internment in Argentina during the First World War.
There was a third, far more secret, mission for the Océano Pacífico. It had become clear to a number of Hitler’s highest-ranking associates that the war might be lost—and probably would be—and that the life span of the Thousand-Year Reich was likely to be only a matter of years, perhaps less. With that in mind, it was deemed prudent to establish in South America a place of refuge. “Operation Phoenix” was set in motion. Money was obtained, largely from Jews, either from the dead—jewelry, gold fillings, and the like—or from the living, by way of extortion.
The equivalent of $100,000,000 (in various currencies, including American dollars) was aboard the Océano Pacífico. Once smuggled ashore, along with the material for the interned Graf Spee crew, the money would be covertly placed in Argentine banks and used to establish a South American refuge for Nazis who not only hoped to escape punishment for their crimes, but who also sought a place where the Nazi philosophy could be kept alive for an eventual return to Germany.
Himmler raised his eyes to Korvettenkapitän Boltitz.
“Please be so good as to thank Herr von Ribbentrop for me,” he said.
“Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer.”
“That will be all,” Himmler said. “Thank you.”
Korvettenkapitän Boltitz rendered another crisp Nazi salute, which Himmler again returned casually, then made a military about-face and marched out of Himmler’s office.
Since the door to the outer office remained open, rather than returning to his desk and using the intercom, Himmler raised his voice and called, “Frau Hassler!”
Frau Hassler was tall, thin, and in her early fifties; and she wore her gray-flecked hair in a bun. When she appeared at his door moments later, she was clutching her stenographer’s notebook and three pencils.
“Please ask Oberführer von Deitzberg to see me immediately.” Oberführer was a rank peculiar to the SS that fell between colonel and brigadier general.
“Jawohl, Herr Reichsführer,” Frau Hassler said, and pulled the door closed.
Manfred von Deitzberg, Himmler’s adjutant, appeared in less than a minute. He was a tall, slim, blond, forty-two-year-old Westphalian; his black SS uniform was finely tailored, and there was an air of elegance about him.
He entered the room without knocking, closed the door after him, then leaned against it and looked quizzically at Himmler. He did not render the Nazi salute, formally or informally.
“We’ve heard from Goltz,” Himmler said, and held the message out of him.
Von Deitzberg walked to the desk, took the message, and read it. When he’d finished, he looked at Himmler, returned the message to him, but said nothing.
“Comments?” Himmler asked.
“It looks like good news,” von Deitzberg said.
“But?”
“The Operations has not been completed. Either part of it.”
“He seems confident that it will succeed…that both parts of it will succeed. You aren’t?”
“There is an English expression, ‘a bird in the hand…’”
“‘is worth two in the bush,’” Himmler finished for him. “I agree. Anything else?”
“I hesitate to criticize Goltz. I recommended him for this mission.”
“But?”
“When next I see him, I will have a private word with him and suggest that it is never a good idea to put so many details in a message.”
“I saw that, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was obviously pleased with himself.”
“And I think he wanted you and me to be pleased with him as well.”
“Yes. Josef is not overburdened with modesty.”
Von Deitzberg laughed dutifully. “I was a little curious about his fulsome praise for von Lutzenberger,” he said. “And von Lutzenberger’s people.”
“Perhaps he really meant it.”
“And he knew, of course, that von Lutzenberger would read the message.”
“And that Grüner is one of us,” Himmler said, smiling. “Do you think our Luther is becoming a politician, Manfred?”
“I think that’s a terrible thing to say about an SS officer,” von Deitzberg said.
It was Himmler’s turn to laugh dutifully.
“What are you going to do about it?” Von Deitzberg asked, nodding at the message. “Are you going to tell the Führer?”
“I thought I would solicit your wise counsel, Herr Oberführer.”
“I have a tendency to err on the side of caution,” von Deitzberg said. “I think I would wait until we have the bird in hand.”
“If he hasn’t already, von Ribbentrop is about to tell Bormann, knowing full well he will rush to the Führer, that there has been word from Himmler’s man that Operation Phoenix will shortly be successful.”
Party leader Martin Bormann was second only to Adolf Hitler in the hierarchy of the Nazi party and one of his closest advisers.
“You don’t think he would wait until after we get the ‘operation completed successfully’ message, so he could say, ‘Our man’?”
“I think von Ribbentrop would prefer to go to the Führer now, using ‘Himmler’s man.’ Then, if something does go wrong, he could pretend to be shocked and saddened by that man’s failure. On the other hand, if it does go well, it will naturally be ‘our man.’”
Himmler looked at von Deitzberg for a moment, then continued: “I could, of course, get to the Führer first, either directly, or through Bormann—”
“The Führer’s at Wolfsschanze,” von Deitzberg interrupted. Wolfsschanze was Hitler’s secret command post, near Rastenburg in East Prussia.
“—then through Bormann,” Himmler went on. “And take a chance our friend—actually he’s your friend, isn’t he, Manfred?—is everything he—and you—say he is. Claim him as our man now, taking the chance that he won’t fail.”
“Were you really soliciting my wise counsel?” von Deitzberg asked.
“Of course. And your wise counsel is that we should wait until we see what actually happens, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“On second thought, what I think I really should do now is call Bormann and tell him that we have just heard from Oberführer von Deitzberg’s man in
Buenos Aires. That way, if Goltz is successful, I can claim the credit because he is one of my SS, right? And if he fails, it’s obviously your fault, von Deitzberg. You recommended him for that job.” Himmler smiled warmly at von Deitzberg.
“May I suggest, with all possible respect, Herr Reichsführer—SS,” von Deitzberg said, “that is not a very funny joke.”
“Joke? What joke?”
He pressed the lever on his intercom, and when Frau Hassler’s voice came, told her to get Reichsleiter Bormann on the telephone immediately.
One of the telephones on Himmler’s desk buzzed not more than ninety seconds later. Himmler picked it up and said “Heil Hitler” into it, then waited impatiently for whoever was on the line to respond.
“Martin,” he said finally, and with oozing cordiality, “There has been good news from Buenos Aires. Our project there, under Standartenführer Goltz, of whom I am very proud, is proceeding splendidly. We expect momentarily to hear that the special cargo has been delivered, and that the first of the officers from the Graf Spee are on their way home.”
There was a reply from Bormann that von Deitzberg could not hear, and then Himmler went on: “The SS exists solely to serve the Führer, Martin. You know that.” This was followed by another pause, and then Himmler barked “Heil Hitler!” into the mouthpiece and hung up. He looked at von Deitzberg and smiled. “That put our friend Bormann on the spot, you understand, Manfred?”
“Yes, indeed,” von Deitzberg said.
“He doesn’t want to go to the Führer with good words about the SS,” Himmler added unnecessarily, though with visible pride in his tactics. “But he wants even less for the Führer to get his information from other people, such as our friend von Ribbentrop. So he will relay the good news about Argentina to the Führer, saying he got it from me, and the Führer will not only like the information but be impressed with my quiet modesty for not telling him myself.”
“Very clever,” von Deitzberg said.
“You have to be clever with these bastards, Manfred. They’re all waiting for a chance to stab us in the back.”
“I agree. Is there anything else?”
Himmler shook his head, “no,” and von Deitzberg walked to the door.
“Manfred!” Himmler called as von Deitzberg put his hand on the knob.
Von Deitzberg turned to look at him.
“Are you, in your heart of hearts, a religious man, Manfred?”
“You know better than that,” von Deitzberg replied.
“Pity,” Himmler said. “I was about to say that now that the die has been cast, Manfred, it might be a good time to start to pray that Goltz is successful.”
“Are you worried?”
“I’m not worried. But if I were you, I would be. You’re the one who selected Goltz for this.”
“I recommended him,” von Deitzberg said. “You selected him.”
“That’s not the way I remember it, Oberführer von Deitzberg,” Himmler said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
On 18 April, more than half of the 100 heavy German transport aircraft attempting to resupply the Afrika Korps in North Africa were shot down by American fighters.
And across the world, in the South Pacific, over Bougainville, P-38 Lightning fighters shot down a transport carrying Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, chief of the Japanese Navy, and Japan’s principal strategist. American cryptographers, in one of the most tightly guarded secrets of the war, had broken many high-level Japanese codes, and had intercepted messages giving Yamamoto’s travel plans and routes. The decision to attack his plane, which carried with it the grave risk of the Japanese learning the Americans had broken their codes, was made personally by President Franklin D. Roosevelt.
On 19 April, the Argentine government of General Ramón Castillo was toppled by a junta of officers, led by General Arturo Rawson, who became President.
On 22 April, the U.S. II Corps, led by Lieutenant General Omar Bradley, began a major attack against the Germans in Tunisia. Another attempt by the Germans to supply the Afrika Korps by air resulted in the shooting down by American fighters of 30 of 50 transport aircraft.
[THREE]
Biscayne Bay
Miami, Florida
2215 23 April 1943
After a very long flight at 160 miles per hour from Caracas, Venezuela, the four-engined Sikorsky Flying Boat of Pan-American Grace Airways splashed down into the calm waters of Biscayne Bay in Miami, Florida. Among its thirty-four passengers was a tanned, balding man of forty-eight who wore a trim, pencil-line mustache. The name on his passport read Alejandro Federico Graham, and his occupation was given as “Business Executive.” In the breast pocket of his splendidly tailored suit was another document:
* * *
THE JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF
THE PENTAGON
WASHINGTON, D.C.
1 January 1943
Subject: Letter Orders
To: Colonel A.F. Graham, USMCR
Office of Strategic Services
Washington, D.C.
1. You will proceed to such destinations as your duties require by U.S. Government or civilian motor, rail, sea or air transportation as is most expedient. JCS Travel Priority AAAAAA-1 is assigned. The wearing of civilian attire is authorized.
2. United States Military or Naval commands are authorized and directed to provide you with whatever assistance of any kind you may require to accomplish your mission (s).
By Order of The Chairman, The Joint Chiefs of Staff:
Official:
Matthew J. Markham
Lieutenant General, USAAC
J-3, JCS
* * *
[FOUR]
The Office of the Director
The Office of Strategic Services
National Institutes of Health Building
Washington, D.C.
1045 24 April 1943
Colonel William J. Donovan, the stocky, gray-haired, sixty-year-old Director of the Office of Strategic Services, rose from his desk and walked to the door when his secretary announced Colonel Graham’s arrival. When Colonel Alejandro Federico Graham, USMCR, passed through the door, Colonel Donovan cordially offered his hand. “Welcome home, Alex,” he said. “How was the flight?”
“From Buenos Aires to Miami, it was slow but very comfortable. Cold champagne, hot towels; Panagra does it right. From Miami to here it was very fast and very uncomfortable. That was my first ride in a B-26. What was that all about?”
“I’m going to have dinner tonight with the President. I really had to talk to you before I did.”
Donovan had been a Columbia University School of Law classmate of Franklin Delano Roosevelt; he and the President remained close personal friends. In the First World War, he had won the Medal of Honor as a colonel, commanding the famous “Fighting Sixty-Ninth” Infantry in France. After the war, he had become a very successful Wall Street lawyer. At the request of President Roosevelt, he had become the Director of the OSS at an annual salary of one dollar.
Graham grunted.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?” Donovan asked.
“Coffee would be nice, thank you,” Graham said.
Graham, who was now the Deputy Director of the OSS for Western Hemisphere Operations, had served as a second lieutenant in the Marine Corps in France in World War I. After the war he had been active in the Marine Corps Reserve, eventually rising to Colonel, USMCR.
An engineer by training, he had become president of the nation’s second- or third-largest railroad (depending on whether the criterion was income or tonnage moved annually). He had made, additionally, a considerable fortune building railroads all over Central and South America.
A political conservative, he had made substantial financial contributions to the presidential campaign of his close friend, Wendell L
. Willkie, who had been defeated in a landslide by Roosevelt in the 1940 election.
When called to active Marine Corps service, he had expected to be given command of a regiment; but Donovan—along with the Deputy Commandant of the Marine Corps, an old friend—had convinced him that his intimate knowledge of South America and its leaders made him more valuable to the OSS than he would be to the Marine Corps, and he had reluctantly given up his dream of commanding a Marine regiment.
“Sit down, Alex,” Donovan said, and went to his office door and ordered coffee.
Graham lowered himself onto a green leather couch, took a long, thin black cigar case from the pocket of his well-tailored suit, extracted a cigar, and, after biting its end off, lit it with a gold Dunhill lighter.
“Nice-looking cigar,” Donovan said. “Argentine?”
Graham started to take the cigar case from his jacket again. Donovan signaled he didn’t want one. Graham shrugged. “Brazilian,” he said.
“That’s right,” Donovan said. “There’s a layover in Rio de Janeiro, isn’t there?”
“And in Caracas,” Graham said. “It took me four days to get here from Buenos Aires.”
“Shall I get right to the point?” Donovan asked.
“That’s often a good idea.”
“I need to know the name of your intelligence source in Argentina,” Donovan said, “the one who helped us with Operation Phoenix. I want to know who Galahad is.”
“We’ve been over this, Bill,” Graham said.
“That was an order, Colonel.”
“Well, we are getting right to the point, aren’t we? Sorry, I’m not in a position to tell you.”
Donovan glared coldly at him.
“Bill,” Graham said. “When I took this job, I had your word that you wouldn’t try to second-guess my decisions.”