Himmler’s first deputy adjutant—SS-Brigadeführer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg, a tall, slim, blond, forty-two-year-old Westphalian—was standing beside the lead car, an enormous Mercedes-Benz convertible sedan that carried on its right front fender the metal flag of the Reichsführer-SS.
Canaris’s own car, a much smaller Mercedes that carried no indication of whom it would carry, was immediately behind that, and then came slightly larger cars for Generals Student and von Wachtstein, each equipped with the metal flag appropriate to their rank.
Himmler exercised his right to be the first off the airplane. A moment later, Canaris followed him. He was surprised to see that Himmler was waiting for him.
“I have been thinking, Canaris,” he said. “Not only do I have a full plate, as I’m sure you understand, but I’m a policeman, not a military man.”
He waited for Canaris to respond. He didn’t.
After a moment, Himmler went on: “Von Deitzberg, on the other hand, was a soldier. What I’m thinking is that I will take von Deitzberg with me now, tell him what happened at Wolfsschanze, then send him to you and Student and von Wachtstein so that you can work out what has to be done between you. Where will you be, at your office?”
The Reichsführer-SS has apparently decided that if something else goes wrong with this absurd mission to rescue Il Duce, it won’t be his fault. If he can blame whatever goes wrong on me, fine.
That will teach me it is not wise to have more accurate intelligence than he does. And if he can’t blame me, he’ll blame von Deitzberg.
“I thought I would take General Student and General von Wachtstein to my house for an early dinner with Gehlen. We missed lunch at Wolfsschanze.”
“Well, there is a silver lining in every black cloud, isn’t there?” Himmler said, smiling as he made a little joke. The meals served at Wolfsschanze were standard army field rations, invariably bland and unappetizing. It was the Führer’s idea, intended to remind all the senior officers of the troops in the field.
Himmler rarely made little jokes, and when he smiled he reminded Canaris of a funeral director who had just sold an impoverished widow the most expensive coffin he had for sale.
“I think I should take Student with me,” Himmler went on. “He can tell von Deitzberg what he has planned. And then all of you can get together first thing in the morning?”
That wasn’t a question. That’s what he wants done.
“Would half past seven at my office be too early for General Student, do you think, Herr Reichsführer? I like to get to the office early.”
“I’ll have him there,” Himmler said. “And if von Deitzberg can find him for me, I’ll have Hauptsturmführer Skorzeny there, too.”
“Fine,” Canaris said.
Skorzeny, you are about to find out that Himmler’s rages, while not quite as loud and long-lasting as those of the Führer, are nearly as devastating.
Himmler did not like being humiliated before the Führer because you provided him with inaccurate intelligence.
Himmler gave a Nazi salute about as sloppy as Canaris usually gave. It was returned as sloppily by Canaris, and very crisply by everyone else.
Then Himmler got into the enormous Mercedes. Von Deitzberg got in beside him. General Student walked to the Luftwaffe Mercedes sedan, got in, and it pulled out of line and followed Himmler’s car.
“General von Wachtstein,” Canaris said, “I was just thinking, since we will have to be at my office early in the morning, that what we should do is let your car go, and you can come spend the night at my house.”
“I would hate to be an imposition, Herr Admiral.”
“Not at all. My wife is visiting her family in Bremen.”
Actually, she’s in Westertede, which I devoutly hope is far enough from Bremen so that it won’t be bombed even by mistake by the B-17s of the Eighth Air Force.
“In that case, Herr Admiral, I think accepting your kind invitation would be a good idea.”
[FOUR]
357 Roonstrasse, Zehlendorf
Berlin, Germany
1605 19 August 1943
En route from the airfield, there was a good deal of evidence of the efficacy of the daily—by the U.S. Eighth Air Force—and nightly—by the Royal Air Force—bombing of Berlin. But once the suburb of Zehlendorf was reached there was virtually no sign of the war except the absence of streetlights and lights in windows.