The Soldier Spies (Men at War 3)

"It has not yet come up," he said. “If it does, and if he were a German, he would be in his own right Baron von Kolbe. And, of course, as my eldest male child, he is heir to my title.”

"Under German law, he is German,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“As I said, Herr von Heurten-Mitnitz, so far as I know the matter has not come up.”

“Yes,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “So you got him into Rosey?”

“Not only that, but I paid for it. I couldn’t have it said that a Jew was paying for my son’s education, could I? I paid for it, and I was happy to do so.”

“Did you intend to finally bring the boy to Germany?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.

“That’s precisely what I had in mind,” the Baron said. Von Heurten-Mitnitz looked at him, waiting for amplification.

"On his graduation from Rosey,” the Baron went on, “I arranged for him to matriculate at Philips University in Marburg an der Lahn. As I had, and my father had. At some time during his college years, when it appeared to me that he was sufficiently mature to understand the circumstances, I planned to discuss his future with him. I had come to believe the best thing for him would be to enter military service, either with my regiment or perhaps even the Waffen-SS.”

“And your plans for him,”von Heurten-Mitnitz said dryly,“somehow went awry?”

“Since I was naturally unable to meet him when he came to the university, ” the Baron said,"I asked the manager of our plant in Marburg—we make ‘special’ aircraft engines there—to ease his path. The manager is also an alter Marburger. He went to the president of our Brüderschaft (fraternity) and explained the situation. Accommodation was arranged for him in the dormitory, that sort of thing, and he agreed to look out for him.”

“I see,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“My son wanted nothing whatever to do with my Brüderschaft,” the Baron said.

“Excuse me?”

“My son appeared in Marburg in the company of a young Moroccan named Sidi el Ferruch, who was the son of the Pasha of Marrakech. They had been roommates at ‘Rosey.’ They arrived in a Delahaye touring car bearing diplomatic license plates. The car was driven by el Ferruch’s personal bodyguard. The bodyguard and el Ferruch’s manservant, as well as el Ferruch himself, were traveling on diplomatic passports. They were also armed.”

“Astonishing,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“They established themselves in three connecting suites in the Kurhotel,” the Baron said. “And when my man finally found them there and explained to my son the arrangements we had made for him, my son announced that he was perfectly comfortable where he was. He had no intention of moving into a student dormitory or, for that matter, joining a Brüderschaft.”

“He was not quite what your man expected, eh?” von Heurten-Mitnitz chuckled.

“When I heard what had happened,” the Baron went on, ignoring the remark, “I simply made time to go to Marburg to talk to my son. I tried to explain that, while someone like el Ferruch might exempt himself from normal undergraduate customs and regulations, it behooved him to remember that he was my son, a von Fulmar, and was expected to behave as such.”

“I gather that he was not receptive?” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“He told me bluntly that he was an American and didn’t much care how Germans were expected to behave. As for behaving like a dutiful son, he told me it was ludicrous of me to suddenly appear out of nowhere and start acting like a father to him.”

Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz shook his head sympathetically.

“I then told him I had no intention of maintaining him in a resort hotel and that he could either move into the student dormitory and do what he was told or leave the university. He actually laughed. It was all I could do not to slap his face.”

“He laughed at you?”

The Baron nodded.

“On his eighteenth birthday he had entered into a contractual arrangement with Continental Studios. So long as he remained outside of the United States and maintained an absolute silence regarding his relationship with Monica Sinclair, there would be deposited monthly to his account with Thos. Cook & Sons the sum of five hundred dollars, which would be more than enough for his personal expenses.”

“How difficult for you,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

“He went on to refuse any help from me in any way. He wanted no part of me, or of his German heritage. At that point, Herr von Heurten-Mitnitz, I am ashamed to tell you, I lost my temper.”

“You struck him?”

“No. But I called him ‘an arrogant, ungrateful bastard’ and told him that I washed my hands of him, once and for all.”

“And his response?”