Lucas Delattre - A Spy at the Heart of the Third Reich

To crown it all, Fritz gave the details of the cryptography used by the German Foreign Ministry. It was a very effective coding system. He explained its functioning: “A normal cipher book is used. Every word has a number group. In addition to this the outpost and the Foreign Office have identical pads, each page of which is usable once only. These pages are covered with numbers in 48 groups of five. These numbers are added to the original cipher number at the transmitting end and deducted at the receiving end. Sum total, without adding decimals, is received at Foreign Office, their pad additions are subtracted, and original cipher results.” This was known as the “one-time pad” system, which was much more secure than the American coding methods (where each letter corresponded to a given number). Unfortunately, Fritz could not say more about it. Codes changed constantly, and the Americans could not make much concrete use of these revelations. They sent the details provided by Fritz Kolbe to London for another evaluation.

The Americans asked the unknown man from Berlin to tell them his name and to talk about himself. Fritz Kolbe laid his cards on the table, revealed his identity, told the story of his life, talked about the Wandervogel, and described his work for Ambassador Karl Ritter. He did not consider that he was in any way under suspicion and cited as proof of this that he worked in the Political/Military Department. He provided dates, gave a summary of his career, and supplied details on the subversive activities he had carried out in secret since the beginning of the war. In particular, he described the fraudulent use of passports brought back from Cape Town, which he said he had given to Jews to help them flee Germany. He told them that his earnings at the outbreak of the war were 700 marks monthly, plus 200 marks special confidence bonus. He even talked about his son and gave them his address in South-West Africa (“c/o Ui and Otto Lohff, in Swakopmund”) to establish his credibility and serve as a guarantee. He also mentioned the name of Toni Singer, his best friend in Cape Town. They asked him about his motivations. Did he want money? Fritz Kolbe said no, explaining the reason for his decisions: “What I do I do for an ideal, I ask for no remuneration except possibly for reimbursement of modest expenses.”

This remark surprised the two Americans. “Is this a joke?” they both said. Ernst defended his friend’s good faith: “He thinks it is not enough to clench one’s fist and hide it in one’s pocket. The fist must be used to strike.” Fritz in turn added a few words: “It is not only one’s right but one’s duty to fight such a government…. My wish is to shorten the war. And at the end of the war, Nazism, fascism, and all the other isms of the totalitarian states should end. We will need American help against the Russians tomorrow in our and in their interest, but we must help them now. That is why I wish to establish contact with the Western democracies. All we ask as payment for our services is help and encouragement and support after the war.” “The war,” said Dulles, “must first be won. It is too soon to speak of what comes afterward.”

Despite the late hour (it was three in the morning, according to Dulles’s memoirs), they continued to bombard Fritz with questions: Could he provide other information? Did he come to Bern often? Fritz answered that he might come back, but that it was not certain. A system of communication between Berlin and Bern had to be organized. In order to finalize all these practical matters, a second appointment was made for Friday morning, again in Mayer’s apartment. The four men took leave of one another. When he returned to his hotel that night—as he was to say later—Fritz felt “deep satisfaction.” He nevertheless wondered if he had not been in too much of a hurry to reveal everything he knew. “Perhaps this haste was judged badly,” he thought. For their part, the two Americans, still in Mayer’s apartment, briefly shared their first impressions of the man whose name they pronounced as Fritz Colby. They agreed in observing that the German had asked practically no questions and had not tried to lead the conversation into any specific subject. This was a rather good sign, but they shouldn’t allow themselves to be lulled by what might be a trap wrapped up in a remarkable performance.

Back in his hotel room Fritz did not go to bed immediately. He sat at the small dimly lit table facing his bed and wrote down his last will and testament, which he intended to give to the Americans before he left. These few lines (a page and a half) were to be given to the appropriate person, “in the event of…”

“If I leave this life in one way or another,” wrote Fritz, “I would like little Peter to be placed in good hands…. Peter should be brought up in my spirit. Do not instill in him hatred of the enemy nor hatred of those who may assassinate me, but rather the unconditional will to fight and to defend our ideals…. No one can deny that my action is guided by ideals. Does existence have any meaning when you no longer have freedom, as is now the case in Germany?”

Fritz then gave a list of people to whom his son might be entrusted: If he wishes, Peter may stay with the Lohff family in Swakopmund in South-West Africa, or else return one day to Berlin to stay with one of Fritz’s close friends (“Walter Girgner, Lankwitz, Leonorenstrasse,” or “Leuko,” a nickname for Kurt Weinhold, his friend the engineer at Siemens). Maria Fritsch (“nicknamed ‘little rabbit,’ assistant to Professor Sauerbruch”), might possibly “become a good mother” for him. “In any case,” Fritz added, “I would have married her eventually.” Peter might also be raised by Ernst Kocherthaler: “This man,” he wrote, directly addressing his son, “may in particular take care of your needs and finance your education.” Fritz than asked Peter to “pay attention to Grandma Kolbe,” Fritz’s mother. “She is old but she has a surprisingly good and just sense of reality.” And Fritz added a sentence about his brother Hans, “with whom I have sometimes quarreled, but who is still a good brother.”

The recommendations to Peter then became very precise: “About your future profession, my dear Peter! I have always thought that you might become a sports doctor if that is something that would interest you. Perhaps your gift for mathematics will enable you to become an engineer. That would suit me, or you might be a lawyer. In any case, try above all to become an upright man, keep your youthful enthusiasm, and keep your heart pure! Respect women. The finest of them all was your mother. Always think of that when you’re with a girl. And always fight for truth and justice. Even when that seems hopeless to you. Go to meet the enemy with the same weapons that he has and do not forget the goal: our final victory [ Endsieg ].”

In conclusion, Fritz paid homage to his own father (“I feel united with him in the respect for what is right”), and asked his son to do the same with him (“ask my friends about my motives”). The will concludes with a moving appeal to Peter: “I remain your papa. Speak to me at night, as I have done to you so often in the last few years.”

Bern, Friday, August 20, 1943

The next day they met as agreed in Gerry Mayer’s apartment at eight in the morning. Fritz was probably free of professional obligations and at liberty to stroll around Bern. Despite the risk of being seen, he had agreed to this morning meeting in the midst of the American diplomatic district. He may have been discreetly deposited by a taxi. Gerry Mayer and “Mr. Douglas” (Allen Dulles) were there. Fritz had figured out that the mysterious Douglas was not a simple assistant in the legation, but he did not yet know his real name. Ernst Kocherthaler was probably present.