The Venlo Incident

by Nigel Jones

  I took a great deal of trouble to get from Elser the clearest possible description of the bomb, and from what he wrote it was quite clear that the clock, which he called an ordinary Swiss alarm, had nothing to do with the fuse which could only be actuated by electric current applied from outside.

  Elser’s comfortable life at Dachau continued for yet a few days; he had been told that he would have to wait for his release until it had been proved that he had carried out his task properly. He was not afraid of any failure here, though he had little faith in the promise made him of freedom and reward.

  On the 9th or 10th November the two men called for him again and when he got into a car which was waiting, they told him that he was now on the way to Switzerland and a life of liberty. They took the road leading to the Swiss frontier near Bregenz at the eastern end of the Lake of Constance which Elser knew well since for a time he had worked at St. Gallen just across the frontier, so at all events he could check the direction of his journey. When they reached a point about a quarter of a mile from the frontier customs post the car stopped and he was told that he would have to make his way farther on foot. He was handed an envelope which, as far as he could see, contained a large sum in German and Swiss notes; he was also given a picture postcard which illusrated the Bürgerbraukeller and on which the pillar into which he had built the bomb was marked with a cross. He was told that if he showed this to the frontier guards they would know who he was and would let him through without asking him for his papers; everything had been arranged.

  He did as he was told, but neither frontier guard nor customs seemed to know anything about him or to understand the meaning of the postcard. He was asked a lot of questions and, as he had no passport or other papers, he was searched. The envelope containing the money was found and he was immediately marched off and put into jail on a charge of currency smuggling. Presumably, if the pretended ignorance of the men at the frontier was real, someone who saw the marked postcard became suspicious and, having heard of the bomb outrage at Munich, reported the arrest of Elser to a higher quarter. Anyhow, next day Elser was taken, handcuffed and heavily guarded, by prison van to an airfield and flown to Berlin. On arrival, still handcuffed, he was put into a cell and later was interrogated, being badly beaten up in the process. He was, however, wise, and said nothing about the trick which had resulted in his capture. He admitted that he had built the bomb into the pillar, but denied that he had had accomplices, stating that his action was the result of his own political opinions and his hatred of Nazi domination. His interrogation continued until deep into the night, but nothing more could be got out of him.

  Next morning he was taken by lift to one of the upper floors where, in a room to which the jailer took him, he found the two men with whom all his previous arrangements had been made. They were most friendly and sympathetic and told him that his arrest at the frontier was entirely due to the unfortunate fact that the guard who had instructions to let him through had suddenly been taken ill and was therefore not on duty when he reached the frontier; he was not to worry though, everything would come all right in the end. Unfortunately, he could not be liberated at once as his photograph had been circulated to the police throughout the country and had also appeared in the Press; everyone thought that he had been guilty of an attempt on the Führer’s life, and if he were to show his nose anywhere he would simply be torn to pieces for, as he could well imagine, everyone in Germany was overcome with fury at the dastardly outrage which had so nearly succeeded. For the time being he would have to remain safely under cover but he need fear no more ill-treatment, everything possible would be done to make him comfortable, and as soon as the first excitement had blown over steps would be taken to get him to Switzerland as had been promised. He was then taken to a big room on the top floor of the building which, as he later discovered was the Gestapo Headquarters in the Prinz Albrechtstrasse, where he found a bed, a carpenter’s bench and the tools which he had used at Dachau. Two men remained with him as guards and from that moment he was never left alone for a moment. He was not, however, interfered with and was well fed; having been given suitable wood he set to work and made himself a zither; he could not play it but it had always been his ambition to learn.

  He remained here undisturbed for about a fortnight when he was again visited by his two friends who took him down to one of the corridors where he was told to sit on a bench. He was told that an Englishman would be brought along past him, and he must look at him carefully so that he would be sure to recognize him if he saw him again. A tall dark man followed by two others passed him twice, apparently on his way to and from the lavatory. A few days later he was taken to the same place again and shown the same man. After this he was taken to an office where there was a high-ranking officer of the SS in uniform and another man, obviously an ex-student, as his face was covered with duelling scars. This man now talked to him and asked him whether he understood that his life was forfeit, and that he was nothing more than a candidate for death. This phrase was often used. He had already admitted to the police that he had built the bomb into the pillar of the cellar, and the whole German people was eagerly awaiting news of his trial and execution. He had, however, been promised life and freedom and the Gestapo always kept its word; he must though do something more to earn his security. He was then told the following story:

  The German Army had already proved in Poland that it was invincible, and nothing now could save England from defeat. When that country was occupied by the victorious German Army he would have to appear as witness at a trial of the British Secret Service chiefs who, as all the world knew, were a gang of murderers and gangsters, and through their false information were really responsible for the whole war. At this trial one of the chief defendants would be the Englishman whom he had just seen; a certain Captain Best who had been captured a short time ago while attempting to leave Germany where he had been spying.

  Elser would have to declare at the trial that for a long time he had been in relation with Otto Strasser in Switzerland and had acted for him as courier to and from Germany. In December 1938, Strasser had called him to Zürich where, at the Hotel Bauer au Lac, he had introduced him to the Englishman Best, telling him that in future he wished him to work for the British who were determined to get rid of Hitler and who could certainly do more than he could himself. Elser was therefore to take his orders from Captain Best who lived in Holland, and arrangements were made so that they could communicate with each other via the Dutch frontier. The Englishman handed Elser a thousand Swiss francs in notes as earnest money.

  During the months that followed he had maintained regular contact with Captain Best, and had acted as courier between him and other agents in Germany; in this way the British Intelligence had received valuable information regarding German rearmament, and for his work he had been very well paid. In October 1939 he had met Captain Best at a place in Holland called Venlo, and there he had been given instructions about planting a bomb in the Bürgerbraukeller at Munich with the promise that if he did so he would receive a sum of 40,000 Swiss francs as reward. At first he had refused to have anything to do with this but Best put pressure on him and left him no choice but to do as he was told or be denounced to the Gestapo as a British agent. In the end he had agreed to do what was required of him and he was given an address in Germany where he would receive his final instructions and be given the infernal machine. He was then to tell in his evidence how he went to the Bürgerbraukeller some four weeks before the date fixed for the explosion and had little difficulty in concealing himself there so that he could do his work during the night. He built the bomb into one of the pillars as he had been instructed, but did not wind up the clock which actuated the fuse as this could only be set to work a maximum of ten days later. He was therefore obliged to pay a second visit to the cellar at the end of October in order to wind and set the clock. He had no difficulty in doing so as he went in the afternoon when the place was quite deserted.

  Elser was given
a typewritten copy of this story which contained a lot of further details about the work he was supposed to have done for Strasser and me, and this he was told to learn by heart. Subsequently he was several times examined to see whether he was word perfect.

  The story certainly seemed very strange and really I was unable at that time to make head or tail of it. What on earth was the object of a fictitious attempt to assassinate Hitler which resulted, from what I had heard, in the death of quite a number of the people who came to hear his speech? I could have understood if it had been followed by a purge in the party such as took place in June 1934, but as a matter of fact very little publicity seemed to have been given to the whole thing in the German Press, and although I had seen illustrated papers in which the photographs of Stevens and myself were placed next to that of Elser nothing which occurred during my interrogation, except a few questions to establish that I had visited Switzerland in December 1938, tied up with Elser’s story in any way. To go to all this trouble merely to bring an accusation against me seemed very much a case of using a whale to catch a sprat. Anyhow, in spite of repeated inquiries, Elser could tell me nothing more, and so I had to leave it at that.

  Until Kaindl came as commandant Elser had always been provided with plenty of good wood, as he was constantly employed making articles of furniture for the commandant and for the warders, and the latter could always abstract any special wood which was needed from the commandant’s private store in the wood sheds in my garden. Kaindl, however, put a stop to all this and all that he allowed Elser was some deal and other inferior timber. Elser too, had been promised by the previous commandant that he should have an electric motor for the operation of the lathe which he had made, but this was also turned down by Kaindl. As a result, life became purposeless to Elser who gradually sank into a state of profound depression, refusing to take any exercise and eating hardly enough to keep body and soul together. Early in 1944 Obergruppenftihrer Müller came to see him and, seeing how ill he looked, gave instructions that he was to be given sufficient wood to keep him occupied, and also arranged that he should be permitted to visit the camp brothel twice weekly.

  I only saw Elser once, to my knowledge, for I did not notice him at all on the occasions when he said I passed close to him at Gestapo Headquarters. One day while I was having a shower in the lavatory he suddenly rushed in followed by two extremely agitated guards to whom he had given the slip; he later let me know that he had wanted to make sure whether I was indeed the same person he had seen at Berlin. He was a thin, pallid little fellow with very bright eyes and a shock of unbrushed dark hair; his clothes hung loosely upon him as though he had lost a lot of flesh.

  At the end of August 1944 his guards were taken from him, and thenceforward he was locked in alone in his cell. At the beginning of February 1945 I heard that he had suddenly received orders to pack up and had been taken away, whether to some other place or for execution no one could say.

  CHAPTER VII

  FOR me, the highlights in 1943, apart from increasing good news of the progress of the war, were a visit to an oculist in Berlin and the receipt of a wireless set, both of which events occurred within a few days of each other in July.

  Quite a number of people, including Elser and the Bears, had wireless sets in their cells, but I never liked asking for anything and so had not been given one. At the beginning of July, though, a number of loudspeakers were erected all over the camp and I was again in the unfortunate position of receiving the noise from two different sources which failed to synchronize. I therefore asked the commandant whether I could perhaps have a set so that I could at least have some means of drowning the noise of these loudspeakers which was really driving me frantic. At the same time I mentioned that my sight was getting so bad that I could scarcely read, a perfectly normal development at my age. He promised to attend to both matters and sure enough on 28th July Eccarius brought a really magnificent looking set. Other prisoners I knew had only the small so-called ‘People’s Receivers’, sets with which reception of local stations only could be obtained. Eccarius warned me that I must on no account attempt to listen to any foreign broadcasts and also that I must not tamper with the set, the back of which was sealed. I fixed up a length of wire to act as an indoor aerial and found that although I got good reception on long and medium waves the short waveband was dead.

  Of course I broke the seals and the same evening investigated the source of this trouble. I discovered that the short-wave coil had been bent so that it was shorted and very soon put this to rights. It would have been quite impossible for me to have attempted to listen in to English broadcasts on the medium or long waves, as these were jammed by a wailing note sent out from Berlin which was far louder than the reception from the English station; anyone trying to listen to the B.B.C. could not fail to let the whole neighbourhood know that he was doing so. The short waveband was a different proposition and to my delight that same evening at 10.30 p.m. I got clear reception of the B.B.C. German broadcast on the forty-nine metre band. For nearly four years I had been cut off from direct immediate contact with my own country, and deprived of news of what was happening there, for May’s letters reached me with a delay of five to six weeks and, of course, she could write of none of the things which I wanted to know; so perhaps it will be understood what my wireless meant to me.

  Two days later Grothe turned up to take me to an oculist in Berlin. He had a car with a driver and another man whom I had met before in Berlin and who had always been very pleasant. They had come far earlier than needed so as to lengthen for me this brief glimpse of freedom, and on our way they stopped the car in a small wood so that we could go for a walk there. I have never seen the world look so beautiful. It was wonderful to see girls in light summer frocks tripping along the road, indeed, to see people of any kind not dressed in uniform. It was a beautiful, hot day, and the air seemed to me scented with summer flowers, so totally different to the vitiated air of the camp. Grothe parked the car by the side of the road and we went for a walk in some woods—everything seemed so lovely that it drew tears to my eyes, and I could hardly bear the thought that very soon I must leave it all and return to my cage. I saw little of destruction on the road we took nor indeed, at Spandau, the suburb of Berlin where the oculist lived. The oculist was an unpleasant fellow, dressed in the uniform of an SS captain and very military in his manners. He examined my eyes and gave me a prescription which, owing to his writing a plus instead of a minus turned out to be useless. Eventually, I went to see one of the prison doctors, a Paris oculist, who put things right.

  This man told me that he was on his feet from 5 a.m. till 10 p.m. almost without a break, for he was the only oculist in the camp. He asked me how old I thought he was; he looked at least seventy-five, but to encourage him I said sixty-five. It turned out that that day was his fifty-first birthday. Although there was an official SS camp doctor, his duties were confined to supervision, and the prisoners were attended by doctors who like themselves were also prisoners. The equipment of the camp hospital was first class and the SS doctors generally gave their prisoner colleagues every assistance and support, but their numbers were never enough to give really adequate attention to all the sick amongst the large population which inhabited the camp; phthisis was rampant at all times but nothing could be done for sufferers from this disease. Life in a concentration camp was always horrible, but it was not impossible for those who had the stamina to stand up to it, and there were thousands of men who had endured this life for ten years or more and looked little the worse for it.

  My greatest sympathy always went to those prisoners who through some physical weakness, or lack of a certain hard streak in their characters, were destined to pass to the oblivion of the camp crematorium, just numbers struck off a list. It is a funny thing that one should have this innate dislike for unrecorded death as though, however insignificant one’s life, one wished to make one last bid for recognition. I have always been so busy living that I have never troubled to t
hink much of death beyond accepting it as inevitable. In prison I was often so close to it that I could not help sometimes considering my own attitude towards any sudden demise, and came to the conclusion that for myself I did not really care one way or the other except in so far as my death would affect my wife; my strongest feeling was the wish to be able to let her know what had happened and to assure her that there was no cause for sorrow or pity. After all, we had been separated for some years and whether this separation continued only for a limited time or for ever was really immaterial; yet I did not like the idea of dying merely as Herr Wolf, or as No. 43, so that possibly at the end of the war nothing would ever be found out about my end and I should merely join the ranks of the ‘missing’.

  As regards my material circumstances, I was really not to be pitied, for I was better fed and better housed than thousands in England, and I escaped all the hardships and dangers of war. It must not be thought because I write about my imprisonment that it is an incident of which I am in any way proud or that I am seeking sympathy. All that I am trying to do is to give a truthful account of my experiences which were in a measure unusual owing to the length of time that I was deprived intercourse with my fellows and so thrown entirely on my own resources. I had read many stories of imprisonment, but none of them seemed to me to convey any clear idea of the need for readjustment with which I found myself faced after my capture, nor gave me any hint how this was to be accomplished. I had to work out everything for myself by trial and error, and so achieved a vast improvement in my material circumstances, only to discover that this meant nothing to me in the end, since without freedom everything else was valueless.