Sins of the fathers, p.11
Sins of the Fathers, page 11
It took time to navigate the stairs. Carla rested when we reached the first floor while I found Hauptscharführer Bauer.
“Reichsführer Himmler said to tell you Fräulein Harvey gets a pass this time, but she must be very careful whom she associates with in the future. They will watch her every move.”
“When will she be released?”
“After papers are filled out.”
Outside, Carla took a deep breath. “I feel better now. Thank you for your help.”
“You got me worried. How come I didn’t know about this condition before? How serious is it?”
“It hasn’t happened for a long time. Certainly not while I’ve known you. It’s another reason I left the film business. Too much stress.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“You are my best medicine. As long as we are together, I will be fine.”
She kissed me and then asked, “What will happen to her?” “Goebbels controls the career of every artist in Germany. If an actor or actress doesn’t do what Goebbels wants, they are finished. Lilian is principled. Pig-headed even. As bright as her star was, the Nazis will make certain it fades to nothing. In time, she will be forgotten.”
Chapter 15
“We received an invitation addressed to us as a couple for the first time,” Carla announced with excitement. Against all convention, she had recently moved in with me. At first, Carla was reluctant to leave her flat. The reason she gave was that Oranienburger Straße—the former Jewish neighborhood—had evolved into the center of Berlin’s art scene. Her real reason was that married couples lived together, single women lived with their families or on their own . . . until which time they got married. That was the German way.
I couldn’t tell her the real reason I could not marry was that I had no memory of a past life and that maybe, somewhere, there was a wife waiting for me. Instead, I said, “Given my rank and position, no one would dare say anything or think ill of you.”
That was the reassurance Carla needed to hear. She still had her studio nearby. As for me? When Carla moved in, I was happier than I had been in years.
I hung my jacket on the hall coat tree and pecked her on the cheek. “What invitation is that? Did the Führer ask you to photograph him?”
Carla put her hands on her hips. “And offend Heinrich Hoffmann? We both know that will never happen,” she answered. “No, Erika Canaris invited us to dinner next Friday. What do you make of it?”
“They’re the reason we met,” I said. “It’s a nice gesture on their part.”
“Imagine if you never showed up that afternoon,” Carla said. “We may never have found each other.”
I pulled her into me; we kissed.
“What was that for?”
“For staying long enough for me to show up,” I answered. “What if I got there later?”
“Truth be told, once I knew you were coming, I was prepared to wait as long as necessary.”
“Is that so?”
Carla wrinkled her nose and gave one of her dazzling smiles. “And my intuition was right.”
I sniffed this way and that. “My intuition tells me there is nothing on the stove that will burn. Am I right?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Hors d’oeuvres.”
Hand-in-hand, we scampered upstairs.
*
The following Friday, Erika Canaris greeted us at the door. “I am so pleased you could join us. Come in. Wilhelm is somewhere with his beloved dachshunds.”
Admiral Canaris was in his study with one treasured dog on his lap and the other at his feet. A lit pipe smoldered in an astray. The admiral eased the one on his lap onto the floor and stood as we entered, kissed Carla on both cheeks, and then asked his wife, “Is there something Carla could help you with? I need a moment with Friedrich.”
Two high-backed leather chairs were angled toward each other in front of a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. A cut-crystal decanter and two glasses rested on top of a small table that separated the chairs. A map of the world was inlaid into the table’s surface. Canaris lifted the decanter and removed the handmade glass stopper. “Scotch?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “This is known as a captain’s decanter,” he explained as he poured. “It has an extra wide base so it will not tip over on rough seas. I’ve taken it wherever I’ve lived since I first saw it in Gibraltar during the Great War.”
We toasted each other. The aged scotch was smoky and burned as it slid down the back of my throat.
“Mind?” Canaris rattled a box of matches. I shook my head. He struck a match and puffed until orange-blue embers flared and crackled.
Admiral Canaris did not spend time with anyone without a reason. I didn’t have to wait long to find out why I was alone with him.
“I need your help,” he said through a haze of smoke.
“Care to elaborate?” I asked.
“How well do you know Reinhard Heydrich?”
Is this a trap?
I sipped the scotch before answering. “We’ve had more than our fair share of run-ins. What is it that you want to know?”
“Some months ago, Heydrich came to see me about a ‘sensitive matter.’ Do you have any idea what it could have been?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
Canaris puffed on his pipe and then said, “The sensitive matter was you. He told me that according to army records, you died in Pasewalk Hospital.”
I swallowed hard. “As you can see, I am very much alive.”
Either Canaris didn’t hear me or chose to ignore what I said.
“Imagine. When Heydrich went to Pasewalk Hospital, there were no records concerning a Friedrich Richard.”
“What has this to do with me? He was after a different Friedrich Richard.”
Canaris threw up his hands. “That’s what I said. But Heydrich would have none of it. He pointed out that army records are never wrong. Not when it comes to listing the deaths of soldiers. He came to me only after he checked every other agency for another Friedrich Richard.”
One of Canaris’s dogs whimpered. He gave it a biscuit. He struck a match to relight his pipe except it was still lit. He smiled and extinguished the flame.
“What did Heydrich hope to gain by coming to you?” I asked.
“He wanted to know if there was a Friedrich Richard in our foreign intelligence files. I checked but knew there no such person in our services.”
I stood. “If there’s nothing else, the women must be wondering what happened to us.” Canaris lifted the second dog onto his lap.
“You need to hear the rest.” His tone was firm. More like a command.
I sank back into the chair, certain I did not want to hear what else Germany’s spymaster was about to say.
“It’s no secret that you’ve known the Führer since when? 1920? Possibly before that? No one has remained as close to him as you. That got me thinking that you two might share a secret. Maybe more than one.”
He plumbed my face for a flicker of a response. I didn’t twitch or blink.
Canaris continued. “Like most Germans, I am well aware that Hitler wrote in Mein Kampf how he was blinded in a gas attack. That his eyes turned to glowing coals. He was treated at Pasewalk Military Hospital. But his autobiography never mentioned the name of the doctor who treated him. Why is that Friedrich?”
“Perhaps an oversight.”
Canaris reached for his pipe. “Or perhaps quite deliberate.” The tobacco sparked. “I never gave it a thought before. But after Heydrich came to me, it seemed important. It occurred to me that if Friedrich Richard had once been at Pasewalk, it might have been when Hitler was there.”
“Why would it matter?”
“Hear me out, Friedrich. Once I latch onto a notion, I follow it to a logical conclusion based on reasonable probabilities. This is no different. I took Heydrich’s lead and went to Pasewalk Hospital. Sure enough, there was no medical record for Friedrich Richard.”
“Why is that surprising? Heydrich already told you it was not there.”
Canaris ignored me. “I dug deeper.”
“The Führer was injured in Flanders. In Belgium. Why would they transport him hundreds of miles from the front when there were qualified hospitals closer to the battlefield? He could have been at any one of them.”
Canaris put his pipe down. He motioned me closer.
“What is crucial in my little tale is that as long as I was at Pasewalk, I decided to see if there were records of Hitler’s treatment by an eye doctor there. There weren’t . . . there was no record of any treatment of Corporal Hitler by any doctor, but you knew that already, didn’t you?”
By now, I’d clenched my hands so hard I thought I would break a finger.
Canaris continued. “What everyone forgets is that hospital commandants keep separate intake records. Do you know what I found in the commandant’s file at Pasewalk?”
Droplets of sweat wobbled on my upper lip. I ran my sleeve across my mouth. “What?”
“A report that Adolf Hitler was a psychopath suffering from hysterical blindness. The commandant’s notes contained a psychiatrist’s report on Hitler’s sanity.” Then added, “Or should I say, lack thereof?”
“Was the psychiatrist identified?”
“Not by name.”
“Did you find Friedrich Richard’s intake record?”
I was lightheaded that our long-kept secrets were about to be exposed.
“It was there . . . but I dismissed it as not being you. The man wasn’t nearly as tall or broad. And that poor chap committed suicide. You’re here.” His eyes crinkled with warmth. “A dead Friedrich’s treatment record doesn’t interest me. Hitler treated in a mental ward by a psychiatrist does.”
“I don’t suppose you would part with that document any time soon. Would you?”
Canaris stroked his dogs. “I intend to keep it safe. Unseen by anyone.”
“What good is it safe? Is it an insurance policy?” I asked.
“It’s more than that, Friedrich. There will be a time to bring it out. Expose him for what he is. But not now.” He placed the dogs on the floor. “Now it’s time to see the ladies.”
We joined Carla and Erika. Dinner consisted of Hasenpfeffer— German stew made from marinated rabbit braised with onions— plus boiled potatoes and sautéed cabbage.
Sated, we sat around the fireplace sipping a fine cognac.
“Friedrich,” Erika said, “your secret is out.”
I was startled. Her too? But she put me at ease when she continued, “I understand from Carla that you play the piano. Would you do us the honors?”
Carla grabbed my hand. “Please? You’ve only talked about it. We would all like to hear you play.”
I stuttered. “It’s been a while since I played in front of anyone.”
“We’re not just anyone,” said Erika, “we’re friends. Don’t disappoint us.”
Canaris smiled. “Give it a go, son.”
I did. I played one of my favorite pieces: “Die Moritat von Mackie Messer” from Die Dreigroschenoper. Carla, Erika, and—to our surprise—Wilhelm, joined in singing the opening stanza.
“It’s a shame Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht were forced to leave Germany,” Canaris said. “Politicians should not be concerned about artists. If anything, artists should be given special consideration for the contributions they make.”
“They had no choice but to leave,” Carla said. “Weill is a Jew and Brecht has Communist leanings. If they stayed, who knows what would have happened to them?”
“Regardless,” said Erika, “‘Mack the Knife’ and The Threepenny Opera will surely live on.”
I agreed: “Mack the Knife” and The Threepenny Opera would live on. But if I were to tell good old Wolf about the document Canaris cleverly uncovered, I could not say the same for the admiral. He would immediately be arrested. And then? Everyone has their breaking point. Canaris would talk and Hitler would get hold of the last existing document revealing his mental condition.
That is why Canaris’s secret had to be protected and I had to trust that one day, written proof of Hitler’s mental instability would surface at the right time.
Until then, Canaris and I had an unspoken bond; a bond to protect each other.
PART II
Chapter 16
November 5, 1937
After all these years, it had become clear that Hitler was an unbalanced gambler relying on instinct and intuition. He had no interest in hammering out the details of any program. He also had no interest in assembling a competent bureaucracy to implement his grand strategies.
For example, he assigned Hermann Göring, a man without appropriate credentials, to mastermind and oversee Germany’s Four-Year Plan for economic development. To no one’s surprise, Göring’s fiscal policies were failing as the country slid back into economic despair. Without additional resources, it was impossible to create the jobs and products Germany needed for expansion.
Fighting amongst military leaders over limited resources took center stage. Admiral Raeder, head of the navy, complained that the air force and army would not release enough steel and raw supplies to rebuild his service.
Something had to be done to resolve these issues.
*
On November 5, 1937, an extraordinary event occurred. It started simply enough. The heads of the army, navy, and air force requested a meeting with Hitler to mediate their disputes. By the time it ended, Hitler laid out a reckless plan to invade Germany’s neighbors.
The meeting was scheduled for 4:00 p.m. in the Chancellery building. Hitler and I arrived before the others.
“Friedrich, it is important that you understand what is about to happen,” Hitler explained. “Until now, the military has been risk-averse. They have counseled against my efforts to reclaim lands taken from us after the war. The world understood that the Saar Basin should never have been stripped away from us. It is German land populated by Germans, and the nearly unanimous plebiscite proved this. And yet, my military advisers balked against doing what was right. Then the Rhineland. Again, the generals opposed me. They feared the worst. Yet I knew we would march into the Rhineland without opposition.” Hitler’s face colored. “This time, when Germany marches forward, my generals will be behind me. They must be behind me.”
“Is this about Austria?”
Everyone knew Hitler wanted to create a union between Germany and the country where he was born and raised, although there was no historical basis for it.
“That’s the starting point,” whispered Hitler.
“Starting point for what?”
“You will learn in due time.” His eyes darkened. “No other country has bothered to rebuild their arsenals as we have. No other country has made the improvements in weaponry that we have. We have the best-trained soldiers in the world, Friedrich. I did this so our generals would be prepared when they take the field. So far, however, the only things they take are seats around conference tables. That is about to change.”
“Why are you telling me this? Mein Führer?” He did not answer.
I clapped to get his attention. “Mein Führer?”
Hitler snapped out of his trance. “Today the generals will cheer me, Friedrich. You wait and see.”
At that moment, the door opened. Hitler’s key military chiefs filed in: Werner von Blomberg (minister of war), Werner von Fritsch (commander-in-chief of the army), Erich Raeder (commander-in-chief of the navy), Hermann Gӧring (commander-in-chief of the air force), and Friedrich Hossbach, Hitler’s military adjutant. When Konstantin von Neurath (foreign minister) trailed behind the others, the military men appeared confused.
Without preamble, Hitler stood. “In any other country, what I am about to say would be said in front of a full cabinet. But this subject is too important to spread across a wider circle. Each of you has been selected because you hold a key post in Germany’s future.” Ever the actor, Hitler paused for effect. His tone was somber.
“In the event of my death, consider the matters I set before you today, as my last will and testament for Germany.”
He addressed Göring—his named successor—directly. “Is that clear, Hermann?”
“Yes, Mein Führer.”
“Mein Herren, when we combine the number of pure Germans living in the Fatherland with those in neighboring countries, the German racial community totals more than eighty-five million. We do not have enough food or land to preserve our racial purity and way of life.” He pounded his palm with a closed fist. “These needs give us the right to expand our territory. Unlike England, our expansion cannot come from acquiring colonies beyond Europe. We must annex Austria and Czechoslovakia in order to expand.”
Hitler’s language and tone were clear and decisive. “Expansion,” he said, “has to occur no later than 1943. Sooner, if possible.”
Blomberg, Fritsch, and Neurath squirmed in their seats. They made no effort to hide their discomfort as Hitler outlined Germany’s future.
Admiral Raeder and Gӧring, on the other hand, hung on Hitler’s every word, nodding their approval.
Hitler continued. “Germany’s expansion will be nothing new. Throughout history, strong countries have overwhelmed weak ones.”
Fritsch nudged Blomberg under the table to say something.
“Mein Führer.” Hitler scowled at Blomberg for interrupting. “This meeting was called to discuss how best to allocate raw materials. The Reich’s future was not on the agenda.”
Hitler slammed the table. “The Reich’s future is now on the agenda! Protecting the purity of the German people requires giving them room to live and includes seizing needed raw materials. Field Marshal Blomberg, Germany will use whatever force is necessary to take what we need from whoever possesses it. It is no more complicated than that. Sitting here, the only questions are, ‘When?’ and “How?’”
Fritsch, the army commander-in-chief, interjected, “Your timing makes us vulnerable to defeat. England’s navy is superior to ours, mein Führer. France’s army is larger and stronger.”
Again, Hitler slammed the table. “England’s strength lies in its alliances with other countries. They cannot stand alone. As for France, their political turmoil makes them weak. Neither will stop us. Germany is Europe’s colossus.”
