by Scott Palter
There was something behind this move for a trial. Halder was certain of it. Heydrich had his own communication channels to the various SS and police minions of his ministry, that he could use for a warning. He could have just left this thug Fegelein face down in a shallow grave. A trial made it public, which meant a different audience. An audience that probably was supposed to include the Army, the other European police services, and the lesser European powers.
Once Beck calmed down, Halder would guide him to agreeing to send someone to Heydrich’s show trial; and in the meantime, he would try to find what game Heydrich was really playing at. As a hedge against failing at this, he would discreetly have one of his aides take a verbal message to General Busse at OKW to send someone. Busse had enough officers from the hereditary military caste, many with legal training. The key was someone whose family connections would make the report credible. The important result was what the gossip net said, not what was on the formal documents.
1200 CET
28 September 1940
Louvre, Paris
Führer Herman Göring was back in his element. There had been a victory breakfast for senior air officers, presided over by the three leaders, at the municipal hall at Calais. Now the triumvirs were doing a joint wreath-laying at the Louvre, where they would each proclaim that the Louvre and Versailles were treasures of their joint European culture. Admiral Darlan had been elated to see a French naval honor guard there for the three to inspect. (Heydrich had seen to it.) The Führer had grown accustomed to his number 2 seeing to such details. Göring had played bountiful monarch, informing Darlan that the two treasures would henceforth be part of the Free Zone, with perpetual honor guards from the French military.
As a lover of fine art, Göring found his speech on France’s contribution to the Christian West’s grand culture an easy one to give. He held his tongue at the lies he had been given to utter on the fine air forces of his allies. The French had used an American bomber, the Martin 167 Maryland. Their Dewoitine D520 fighter was at best a decent competitor to the pre-war marks of the Me-109. The new Fw 190 would leave it in the dust. All the Italians could offer in terms of their own planes were two squadrons of CR-42 biplanes. The fighter squadron had escorted the bomber version for a symbolic tip and run raid over Dover. The real Italian contribution had been two squadrons of Ju 88 bombers escorted by two squadrons of Me 109 fighters. The Italian flyers were first-rate, but it was German mechanics who prepped these German-built planes for the mission.
There was a state banquet in Paris for the threesome. Then they would fly to Berlin to be on the reviewing stand for the mass funeral procession for the hundred or so dead Berlin orphans. Abandoned in life, these dead children were now national martyrs. Such is the way of empires.
0700 hours Hawaiian Time; 1700 hours CET
28 September 1940
Pearl Harbor Naval Base, Oahu, Hawaii
The full US base turned out in dress whites to welcome their Japanese visitors. Eight destroyers and a light cruiser of Vice Admiral Nagumo Chuichi’s ‘Special Mobile Force’, were paying a call on the US Pacific Fleet. In addition to the naval brass, led by CNO Stark and Pacific Fleet Commander Richardson, there was a special present for Nagumo to review, the US 100th Infantry Battalion. This was a volunteer unit of American Japanese who had heeded FDR’s offer to let those Americans with sympathies for the various belligerents go fight for their chosen side, but not try to drag the US into the conflict on any side. These ‘Yankee Samurai’ were awaiting transport to the Manchurian Front.
For decades, the US and Japanese navies had seen each other as certain enemies. Now they were slowly coming to terms with the concept that while still not friends, they would not be foes. The USN’s Plan Orange was as dead as the dodo. The new active space for both fleets would be in the Atlantic. Again not exactly as friends, but definitely not as enemies.
0630 hours local; 0530 hours CET
29 September 1940
Reconnaissance Detachment HQ, Afrika Division, behind Hausser’s division in Alamein lines to the south near the Depression
The so-called headquarters was a ramshackle shack that looked as if a small gust of wind would blow it over. Units on the move don’t waste a lot of time building temporary structures. The logic was that it was better than a tent.
Lothar was giving what amounted to a lecture to a half-dozen junior officers. The so-called detachment was a company each of motorcyclists and armored cars. The cars were SdKfz 231’s rather than Panhards, but Lothar would adapt. He was back serving with Germans, the way the original Führer would have had things run.
Peiper and Sommer had sold Lothar to the staff people at Afrika Division HQ as if he were a side of beef. They were upfront about his attitude problems, but stressed the value for a green unit of having an officer with combat experience in this theater and against this foe. So he was now a supernumerary deputy detachment commander. This meant he would probably end up an armored car officer. It also meant answering endless stupid questions from middle-aged SA officers who seemed unable to wrap their heads around mobile war. Lothar mentally shrugged. He’d teach as much as they let him. An hour in combat would teach the rest.
0700 hours CET
29 September 1940
Ministry of War, Berlin, Germany
Minister of War Generaloberst Beck had long been pondering where the initial putsch had gone wrong. He still felt the original conception had been correct. Use Göring as a Nazi symbol for a monarchist regency. The various royalist factions had been unable to agree on which royal would ultimately assume the throne. The Spaniard Franco had shown how it was possible to do monarchism without actually deciding who the monarch should be. As the crown was merely a symbol behind which the better elements of a nation could unite, the actual choice of the king-to-be could be sorted out later. Franco had not even made a clear choice between two rival lines of claimants. Franco had personal ties to one line, but the other brought with it an excellent militia.
When Nebe had returned with Heydrich instead of liquidating him, Beck had seen it as a minor error, easily corrected. And then it all came apart. Göring by upbringing should have been with them. His father had been a functionary of the Kaiser. Not of the military class but of the one beneath it, nobility of the robe instead of the sword. The father’s type aped the true Junkers in everything. Hermann had been a cadet-school graduate and medal-winning officer. His nominal Nazi associations could be overlooked. By 1940 Göring was a lazy sybarite, unlikely to be any real trouble to a government of experts backed by the sword of the Army.
What stung worse was the betrayal by Halder. The man had done the same several times in the run-up to the war. Halder could see the evils of the Nazis, the dangers they posed to rule by the natural aristocrats. The nation needed a firm Prussian type of enlightened monarchy. Democracy led to socialism. Nazi or Communist, it was just two faces of the same gutter coin. The masses should be given firm orders the way it was done in the Army. Yet every time it came to a point of decision, Halder had refused to issue the coup orders. The man was exasperating.
Heydrich. The man had been run out of the Navy in a sexual scandal. Yet once part of the new regime, he had shown himself to be a quite pragmatic technocratic nationalist. Heydrich used the Nazi trappings to run what was a personal regime founded on efficiency. This attracted the younger members of the traditional service elites, civil as well as military. Serving Heydrich after Malta (and now the first North African battles), was a route to quick promotion, to decorations, to combat commands. On the civil side, the new cartels offered posts with power and high compensation to the hard chargers. Heydrich was not from the socialist wing of the Nazis, but neither did he treat private property as something of importance. To him everyone and everything was at the disposal of the state. It was Trotsky’s War Communism run with Teutonic efficiency.
Beck caught himself. In all honesty he wished for a regime of the type Heydrich had created, which was functional
ly the antithesis of Hitler’s regime of endless leader whims and frantic improvisations. And yet … and yet it did all come down to breeding, to class. Such an enlightened royal autocracy needed to be run by the traditional service nobility of the Prussian state, such as had been cultivated back to the time of the Great Elector; aided by others who consciously schooled themselves in the ruling class mix of honor and duty. A Ludendorff or a Göring was acceptable. A young naval Leutnant who could despoil a decent girl with a promise of marriage, and then not honor it, was just the wrong sort of individual. How could anything good come from such poisonous roots?
The Generaloberst knew all the arguments against action. The Fatherland was still at war with the British Empire, a mighty force. The British had the US and Japan as de facto allies, making them potentially stronger still. The hold the Reich had on much of Europe was quite new. Chaos in Berlin could lose Germany all the advantages gained in the past year. The Soviet menace still existing. At any moment Stalin could move west, with millions of men and with tens of millions of internal Communists as devoted helpers. Looming over it all was the million men whom Heydrich had summoned out of nowhere to Berlin the last time. The masses were with the Nazis, not with the proper rulers. But if not now, when? Every month lost was another month for Heydrich to gain control of more of the levers of power, for Göring to acquire more of a mass following. The aristocracy had been handed a gift from heaven when Hitler conveniently died. Should they sit frozen waiting for yet another miracle of the House of Brandenburg? No! Real men do not just sit in the dark muttering about how someday they would act.
Beck sighed. He saw that he had made his decision. All this was mere rationalization. He had kept the arch-plotter Carl Goerdeler on his ministry staff against such eventualities. He had kept the key military conspirators on the staff of the Replacement Army. Both groups had been politely pushing him to take action. Now he was ready. The coup plots of the late 30’s had been to save Germany from the unwinnable wars Adolph the Idiot had risked by his brinksman’s diplomacy. The threat now was quite the reverse. Another year, and there would be a victorious peace with the British. A hugely popular peace that would cement the Nazi hold on power. In peacetime the Nazis could afford to purge the officer corps the way Stalin had done. Without their hold on military command, the Old Order was doomed. Action must be taken. The die was cast. A Rubicon needed to be crossed.
1600 hours local; 1500 hours CET
29 September 1940
Brigade Strauss Compound, in rear of the lines of Italian XXI Corps at the northern end of the European Alamein lines facing 8th Palestine Division
The plane ride had been bumpy. Major Albert Witt had no idea if it had been especially so. He’d never flown before. Neither had his two sons, Arne and Uwe, who had accompanied him on this ‘adventure’. It had all started with a Gestapo summons two weeks earlier to appear at Prinz-Albrecht-Straße at a particular day and time, presenting themselves at main reception with the written summons in question. As part-Jews living quietly in Berlin, this prospect had not seemed pleasant. And yet … it was a summons to appear. They had not been arrested and held to make sure of their obedience. They were being treated as in some sense citizens of the Reich. Which they had once been. All three had done military service, the two sons having been with the colors until expelled this past April.
At the designated hour, all three arrived, dressed in their best business suits. They had their personal documents with them … just in case. Reception checked those carefully, then led them upstairs to another waiting area where in due time they were ushered into the presence of an Oberführer named Schellenberg. The name meant nothing to Herr Witt. Being informed that this Schellenberg was first deputy to Reichsführer Heydrich was terrifying. What had his family done to merit such exalted attention?
All was quickly made clear. Schellenberg had queried his bureaucratic contacts at the Finance Ministry for a patriotic part-Jew who might be available for a mission of national importance. Germany was in the process of conquering a port facility in Egypt, specifically the city of Alexandria. It was necessary for this port complex to be quickly restored to efficient use after the repair of the inevitable British demolitions. A naval detachment was being created to handle the technical side of this, but there would be a financial aspect as well. Very large sums would have to be spent buying local labor, materials, and such. Absent financial controls, there would be theft, fraud, and waste. Albert Witt and his sons should consider themselves as conscripted by the Interior Ministry.
The manner of conscription was, from Witt’s point of view, quite unexpected. His dismissal under the prior Aryanization decrees was rescinded. He was restored to his old bureaucratic rank, with the missing years listed as ‘unpaid personal leave’. He was given a Major’s rank in the NL, as a courtesy because he would be in a war zone. However, his own pay and pension rights would continue to be civil service. His sons were made Hauptmann in the NL, with a civil-service grade two degrees below his. Their mixed blood was waived away “in the interests of the Reich”. Witt was now a direct report to this Schellenberg via a Leutnant Schmidt, whom he would meet in Africa.
The family threesome would be forwarded support staff from some camp in Italy. These support staff were alleged to be people with proper financial, administrative, and legal backgrounds. Oh, and this ‘Advanced Party of the Interior Ministry’ was also for some ‘reason of state’ to be the paymaster section of this nebulous Brigade Strauss. The eldest son was handed a traveling case, with binders inside with the pay tables for NL and attached services.
The more interesting part was the rest of the baggage. Three suitcases having in them a million British pounds, half a million US dollars, and three quarters of a million German marks. Witt and the sons had to sign for these amounts. Witt would have liked a chance to count the currency first, but wisely chose not to raise the issue with a man who could order his execution.
The final part of the instructions had, if anything, been even more bizarre. Witt had been handed a pre-written letter to his wife and his mother, and was forced to sign it at once. It notified them that he had been recalled to duty along with the sons. They were to expect SS ‘helpers’ tomorrow, to pack the house for shipment. The personal effects of the three men would be forwarded to them at a location that must remain undisclosed for reasons of state security. The women were to pack their own personal items for a rail journey they would be taking, to Italy. The furniture and the remaining possessions would be placed in storage pending a future date and location where a permanent residence would be found. Had this Schellenberg seemed a more sympathetic sort of man, Witt would have asked leave to add a few words in his own hand to the note, for the ladies’ peace of mind. Even a few personal thoughts would have eased their burden. Pity, but even begging for this did not seem prudent under the circumstances.
The steamer trunks filled with currency had come with handcuffs to secure them to their owners. The three men had taken this precaution. The section of HJ’s who had picked them up at the forward air strip had found the situation amusing, but nothing that teen-age male muscles couldn’t cope with. Now they were in the command building, half drunk with fatigue and near bowled over by the intense heat. The General they would be working with looked like an advertisement for a body-building school. Senior officers were expected to be fit, but not circus freaks. Most confusing.
Strauss was glad to be finally getting a paymaster section. He saw the rest as Schellenberg’s business. “Welcome to our little outpost of Greater Germany.” He then shook hands all around.
The two sons had agreed to let their father do the talking. “Thank you, Brigadier Strauss. I take it the naval contingent and our support staff have not yet arrived?”
“Naval group lands at Benghazi tomorrow. They will be multiple days getting driven up here. Don’t know how many yet, as they don’t rate priority. The support staff made it onto a ship to Mersa Matruh. Last minute thing. Harbormaster’s off
ice in Bari had a missing military contingent, so we got a warm body order to fill out the load. About your women. The Italian railroads are in chaos, but at some point they’ll arrive at Bari. My Major Wrede has orders to get them settled in.”
“About this camp. How strict a regime?”
Gunter started laughing, then caught himself. He knew it wouldn’t be funny from their side. “It’s not a camp in the sense Dachau or Belsen is. It’s a military encampment. Some of it is hasty-construction wooden buildings, and the rest is good-quality tents with wooden floors. Many of my people have family parked there. It’s boring but safe, with decent food and a passable climate. Eventually we get to the end of the campaign and go into occupation duty. Then the dependents arrive. This unit is for permanent colonial duty. We are exiles, as it were.”
“I don’t know how to say this delicately. We are part Jew. My mother is fully Jewish by blood. She’s quiet about it. Doesn’t practice the faith, but it’s on her documents. How will your Major and his subordinates cope with this? Can you perhaps send instructions to be kind?”
Gunter gave Witt a strange stare and then started to slowly shake his head. Witt was panicking, expecting the worst. “Let me guess. Oberführer Schellenberg briefed you on this himself?” Witt nodded. “And of course he neglects to mention you three were chosen because, as part-Jews you wouldn’t have a problem working in a unit where the bulk of the people are of Jewish blood?” Gunter saw the relief on the three faces. He knew Schellenberg’s pattern by now. The man could be deliberately cruel, but mostly it was just indifference and harassed over-work. “I had already sent instructions that the two ladies were to be treated as befit your rank. I can send a pointed reminder. Now for the big issue. You came with a mountain of cash. That means you need a safe. We can order you one from Germany, but it will never arrive in time. The ports are a madhouse, and the rail lines in are almost as bad. We have, shall we say, a backchannel for emergency purchases in Naples. Anything we buy there gets shipped priority. Joey!”
