Hitler's peace

“Turning up in my office like that, out of the blue, after all these years. Not only that, but you turning out to be another of Roosevelt’s special representatives, just like old Hefty. And I thought to myself, Don’t do anything hasty, Kim. Perhaps old Willard can help you put some flesh on the story, if there is one. Stand it up, as we journalists say.”

My initial sense of caution had given way to intrigue. If Philby was right, and Roosevelt really was negotiating a separate peace, then what was the point of the Big Three?

“How?”

“Oh, I dunno. Keep your ears open on Campus and around the White House, that sort of thing. A watching brief, that’s all.”

“And suppose I do hear something. Then what?”

“There’s a pal of mine at the British embassy in Washington. Bit of an old lefty, like you and me. Name of Childs. Stephen Childs. A good solid chap but also inclined to the view that the Russians are being given the sharp end of the stick. If you did hear anything fishy, you might give him a call. Have a drink. Talk it over. Decide between yourselves what to do about it and simply act according to what your consciences dictate. As for me…” Philby shrugged. “I shall have to see what more can be discovered through our agents in Ankara. But frankly I am not optimistic, and we shall have to see where your man Morde turns up next.”

“I’m not promising anything,” I said. “But I’ll see what I can do. With Roosevelt. ‘I’ll observe his looks. I’ll tent him to the quick. If he but blench, I know my course.’ ”

Philby was looking puzzled.

“ Hamlet, ” I explained. “As a matter of fact, what did you read when you were up at Cambridge?”

Philby grinned. “Marx and Engels, of course.”

VI

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1943,

BERLIN

“It sounds to me as if you’ve been reading Der Pimpf, ” Himmler told Schellenberg. Der Pimpf -The Squirt-was the monthly periodical for young boys in the Hitler Youth organization. It contained a mixture of high adventure and propaganda. “Assassinate the Big Three? Are you mad? Really, Schellenberg, I’m surprised at a man of your obvious intelligence coming up with a harebrained scheme like this. What on earth made you think of such an idea?”

“You did, Herr Reichsfuhrer.”

“Me?”

“Your speech at Posen. It made quite an impression on me. You said that it’s faith that wins battles, and that you didn’t want pessimists in our ranks, or people who have lost their faith in the Fatherland. I thought to myself that if Skorzeny could pull off something like the rescue of Mussolini, then, perhaps, something even more daring might be achieved.”

“Pessimism is one thing, Schellenberg, but reckless optimism is quite another. And so is realism. I expect realism from a man of your abilities. As we both know, Skorzeny’s mission was carried out at the Fuhrer’s request. It was an absurd idea and achieved nothing of any practical use. Did you even hear me mention the name of Skorzeny at Posen? No. You did not. Normally, given enough time, I could have killed off Hitler’s idea of rescuing Mussolini, in the same way that I’ve killed off a lot of other idiotic schemes. But he kept on and on about this one until I could see no way of avoiding it. And, my God, whoever expected the fool to succeed?”

They were in Himmler’s new office at the Ministry of the Interior on Unter den Linden, next to the old Greek embassy. From the double-height first-floor windows, recently made bombproof, Schellenberg could see the Adlon Hotel and the very window of the room where he had made love to Lina the previous Saturday.

“Realism demands that we pursue peace with the Allies, not try to assassinate their leaders.”

Schellenberg nodded but quietly marveled at the many contradictions that were evident in Himmler’s character and conduct. The Himmler now talking peace was the very same Himmler who, on August 25, the day he had taken over from Wilhelm Frick as minister of the interior, had sentenced a government councillor to the guillotine for “defeatist talk.” The councillor’s execution could only have been for show, thought Schellenberg; to encourage the others. The Reichsfuhrer’s remark seemed to confirm what he had learned from the two Gestapo men he’d been obliged to murder: that Himmler was indeed conducting some kind of private peace negotiations that might leave him at the head of a post-Hitler government.

“No,” said the Reichsfuhrer. “I don’t think they would take kindly to that. Not while we’re trying to talk peace.”

So there it was, thought Schellenberg. He’d admitted it. Of course in Himmler’s arrogance it would probably never have crossed his mind that the Gestapo might properly regard this as treason. That they would actually have the audacity to spy on him, the Reichsfuhrer-SS, would be quite unthinkable.

“You don’t look surprised, Schellenberg,” observed Himmler.