Neutral Argentina would be an ideal place to cache money (preferably exchanged for gold, Swiss francs, or American dollars). In fact, Peter’s father had already transferred a great deal of money into secret, numbered Swiss bank accounts—a very risky act, Peter knew. If it came to the attention of the authorities, the penalty would be a court-martial and a possible death sentence, as well as the forfeiture of all the Wachtstein estates.
Before father and son parted, Generalleutnant von Wachtstein gave Peter all the cash he could lay his hands on—nearly a hundred thousand dollars in Swiss, English, and United States currency—together with the numbers of the secret bank accounts. He would have to somehow transfer to Argentina what was in the Swiss accounts.
If the worst happened for Germany—as Peter’s father expected—this money could be the salvation of the von Wachtstein family and their estates.
Finally, and as a last resort, his father explained, there was a friend he might turn to, Manfred Alois Graf von Lutzenberger, the German Ambassador to Argentina.
On von Wachtstein’s first night in Buenos Aires, Beatrice Frade de Duarte had arranged for him to be put up in the Frade family guest house on Avenida del Libertador, either blissfully unaware—or simply not caring—that her brother had already turned the house over to his onetime USMC fighter pilot son, Cletus.
The encounter between officers of warring powers could easily have been awkward, but it turned out quite the other way. In the library of the guest house, over a bottle and a half of el Coronel Frade’s cognac, the two had quickly come to the conclusion that as fellow fighter pilots, intimately familiar with both the joys of flying and the horrors of war, they had far more in common with each other than they had with anyone else in Buenos Aires.
They knew, of course, that very few people indeed would understand this, and after Major von Wachtstein was provided with “more suitable” quarters, both officers discreetly kept their initial meeting—and their budding friendship—under wraps. And when they were formally introduced the next day at Capitán Duarte’s funeral, both showed to each other the icy courtesy expected of officers of belligerent powers meeting in a neutral country.
Two weeks later, Oberst Karl-Heinz Grüner, the military attaché of the German Embassy, decided to have Cletus Frade assassinated—information that came to von Wachtstein. After a good deal of painful thought, he concluded that an honorable officer could not stand idly by while such a murder was committed, and he warned Frade.
Frade was therefore ready for the assassins when they appeared at the guest house, and killed them, though not before they had killed Enrico Rodríguez’s sister, the housekeeper.
Cletus Frade, himself no stranger to honor (though the sense of formal chivalry that Major Freiherr Hans-Peter von Wachtstein had sucked in with his mother’s milk was a little amusing to Frade), sought Peter out and announced that he was in his debt for his life. As far as he was concerned, von Wachtstein had a blank check on anything that was his to give.
Though Peter’s initial reaction to Clete’s offer was chilly (he had done what he had done, he explained, solely because his officer’s code of chivalry demanded it), the respect of the two men for each other had grown, and their friendship had been cemented.
And then a letter came from von Wachtstein’s father, carried, secretly and at great risk, to von Lutzenberger by the pilot of a Lufthansa Condor. The subject of the letter—in the very deepest sense—was chivalry and honor.
* * *
Schloss Wachtstein
Pomern
Hansel—
I have just learned that you have reached Argentina safely, and thus it is time for this letter.
The greatest violation of the code of chivalry by which I, and you, and your brothers and so many of the von Wachtsteins before us have tried to live is of course regicide. I want you to know that before I decided that honor demands that I contribute what I can to such a course of action, that I considered all of the rami cations, both spiritual and worldly, and that I am at peace with my decision.
A soldier’s duty is rsl to his God, and then to his honor, and then to his country. The Allies in recent weeks have accused the German state of the commission of atrocities on such a scale as to defy description. I must tell you that information has come to me that has convinced me that the accusatio
ns are not only based on fact, but are actually worse than alleged.
The of cer corps has failed its duty to Germany, not so much on the eld of battle but in pandering to the Austrian Corporal and his cohorts. In exchange for privilege and “honors” the of cer corps, myself included, has closed its eyes to obscene violations of the Rules of Land Warfare, the Code of Chivalry, and indeed most of God’s Ten Commandments. I accept my share of the responsibility for this shameful behavior.
We both know the war is lost. When it is nally over, the Allies will, with right, demand a terrible retribulion from Germany.
I see it as my duly as a soldier and a German to take whatever action is necessary to hasten the end of the war by the only possible means now available, eliminating the presenl head of the government. The soldiers who will die now, in battle or in Russian prisoner-of-war camps, will be as much victims of the of cer corps’ failure to act as are the people the Nazis are slaughtering in concentration camps.
I put it to you, Hansel, that your allegiance should be no longer to the Luftwaffe, or the German State, but to Germany, and to the family, and to the people who have lived on our lands for so long.
In this connection, your rst duty is to survive the war. Under no circumstances are you to return to Germany for any purpose until the war is over. Find now someplace where you can hide safely if you are ordered to return.
Your second duty is to transfer the family funds from Switzerland to Argentina as quickly as possible. You have by now made contact with our friend in Argentina, and he will probably be able to be of help. In any event, make sure the funds are in some safe place. It would be better if they could be wisely invested, but the primary concern is to have them someplace where they will be safe from the Sicherheitsdienst until the war is over.
In the chaos that will ensue in Germany when the war is nally over, the only hope our people will have, to keep them in their homes, indeed to keep them from slarvalion, and the only hope there will be for the future of the von Wachtstein family, and the estates, will be access to the money that I have placed in your care.
I hope, one day, to be able to go with you again to the village for a beer and a sausage. If that is not to be, I have con dence that God in his mercy will allow us one day to be all together again, your mother and your brothers, and you and I in a beller place.
I have taken great pride in you, Hansel.
* * *