The Honor of Spies

"My Fuhrer, I regret to inform you that Peenemunde suffered severe damage yesterday afternoon."

"So I have heard."

"And a great many of our fighters were shot down yesterday near Berlin."

"How many is 'a great many,' von Wachtstein?"

"Approximately one hundred, my Fuhrer."

"How did that happen?"

"They were mistaken for American fighters, my Fuhrer."

"Who made that mistake?"

"General Jeschonnek ordered the attack, my Fuhrer."

"Gunsche, get General Jeschonnek in here."

"My Fuhrer, General Jeschonnek took his own life just after midnight," von Wachtstein said. "By pistol shot."

Hitler looked at him.

"I presume Reichsmarschall Goring has been informed?"

"Yes, my Fuhrer," von Wachtstein said.

"And where is the reichsmarschall?"

"In Budapest, my Fuhrer," von Wachtstein said. "He is experiencing some technical difficulty with his aircraft. He expects to be able to get here sometime after three this afternoon."

"How is it that the reichsmarschall learned of this before I have?"

"My Fuhrer, Generalfeldmarschall Keitel has directed me to contact the reichsmarschall, inform him of General Jeschonnek's death, and to relay the generalfeldmarschall's suggestion that Reichsmarschall Goring come here as soon as possible."

"I see," Hitler said. "Oh, how well I see."

And here is where I get to feel the wrath.

"Is there anything else you have to tell me, General von Wachtstein?"

"No, my Fuhrer."

"Then that will be all, von Wachtstein."

"Yes, my Fuhrer."

Am I somehow going to escape the wrath?

Von Wachtstein saluted and walked toward the door.

"Gunsche, find Parteileiter Bormann and ask him to come see me im mediately."

"Jawohl, my Fuhrer."

"Von Wachtstein!" Hitler barked.

Von Wachtstein, who was almost at the door, stopped and turned.

"Yes, my Fuhrer?"

Now I get the wrath.

"It is not true, General von Wachtstein, that I always lose my temper with the bearer of bad news. Sometimes I understand why the bearer is the bearer."

He made an impatient gesture of dismissal.

Von Wachtstein did an about-face and left.

[TWO]

Aboard Fuhrerhauptquartier Flug Staffel No. 12

Near Rastenburg, Germany

0655 19 August 1943

Although there was room for ten in the passenger compartment of the twin-engine aircraft, there were only three men in it.

One of them, Rear Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, a short fifty-five-year-old whose face was just starting to jowl, and who was chief of the Abwehr--Intelligence Division--of the German Armed Forces High Command, was privately--very privately--amused at the situation.

Among the most senior officers of the Nazi hierarchy, the competition was fierce for any seat on a "Hitler Squadron" Heinkel 111 flying from Berlin to "Wolf 's Lair."

Almost as intense, Canaris thought, as the competition to get a seat beside--or even near--Der Fuhrer in his car or at dinner.

And since the last thing I want is to go to Wolfsschanze or have dinner with the Bavarian Corporal, here I am on my way to Wolfsschanze almost certainly to have to eat at least lunch with him, and leaving behind me at Tempelhof Field ten furious very senior officers who thought they had successfully competed in the race for a seat on the eight o'clock flight.

And they can't be angry with me, either. For when they make inquiries, they will be told that SS-Obersturmfuhrer Otto Gunsche had called, announcing that I was on my way to Tempelhof, and the moment I got there, I was to be put aboard the Heinkel, which would then immediately depart for Wolfsschanze.

When the young and junior officer spoke, as a number of senior officers had learned to their pain, he spoke with the authority of the Fuhrer.

Gunsche had called Canaris earlier:

"Heil Hitler! Obersturmfuhrer Gunsche, Herr Admiral. The Fuhrer requests your presence at your earliest convenience, Herr Admiral. An aircraft will be waiting for you at Tempelhof. May I tell the Fuhrer that you are hastening to comply with his request, Herr Admiral?"