Oh, what the hell. When in doubt, tell the truth.
“Sir, the first thing that comes to my mind is that we just started to make a paper trail.”
“That’s very interesting,” Smith said softly. “And whose
idea was that?”
“My . . . I guess he could be called my administrative officer. Staff Sergeant Hessinger.”
“And you thought this idea of your staff sergeant was a good idea?”
“Sir, Hessinger said something to the effect that eventually somebody is going to want to look at our records. And if that happens, and we say, ‘We haven’t been keeping any records,’ that’s not going to be an acceptable answer.”
“And I agreed, General,” Schultz said. “And told Cronley to start making after-action reports on everything of significance that’s happened at Kloster Grünau—”
“Where?” Smith interrupted.
“The monastery,” Schultz furnished.
General Smith nodded his understanding.
“And at the Pullach compound. And about everything else he’s done of significance anywhere.”
“And who gets these after-action reports?” Smith asked.
“Colonel Ashton,” Cronley said. “As responsible officer for Operation Ost. And he sits on them, hoping that no one will ever want to see them.”
General Smith considered that for a full thirty seconds.
“Your sergeant was right, Cronley,” he said. “Napoleon said, ‘An army travels on its stomach,’ but the U.S. Army travels on its paper trails. If this thing blows up in our faces, and we didn’t have any kind of a paper trail, (a) they wouldn’t believe it, and (b) in the absence of a paper trail, we could be accused of anything. I think General Eisenhower would agree. I also think it would be a good idea if I had a look at them, in case they needed . . . what shall I say? . . . a little editing.”
“Yes, sir,” Cronley said.
“Not your decision to make,” Smith said. “Chief, what about it?”
After a moment, Schultz said, “Hand-carry them to General Smith personally. Either you or Tiny.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Back to the basic question, Cronley: What is your assessment of the risk of exposure of Operation Ost? Increased, diminished, or no change?”
“Greatly diminished, sir.”
“Why?”
“Sir, just about all of General Gehlen’s Nazis are already in Argentina. There’s a dozen, maybe twenty, still unaccounted for in Eastern Europe. If we can get them out, either to West Germany or Italy, we’ll use the Vatican to get them to Argentina. I mean, we’re no longer going to use SAA to transport them.”
“If you’re right, and I have no reason to doubt that you are, that’s good news,” General Smith said. “Colonel Ashton, what’s your assessment of the same thing, this blowing up in our faces in Argentina?”
“Sir, I’ll probably regret saying this, but I don’t think it’s much of a problem, and the chances diminish by the day.”
“Why do you say that?”
Schultz answered for him: “General, the only people looking for Nazis in Argentina are the FBI. And since Juan Domingo Perón and the Catholic Church don’t want any Nazis found, the FBI is going to have a very hard time finding any.”
“You don’t sound as if you’re rooting for the FBI,” Smith said. “Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”
“No, sir, it doesn’t. President Truman and General Eisenhower getting burned by J. Edgar Hoover over Operation Ost is what makes me, and Admiral Souers, uncomfortable.”