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

Bern, April 1945

“Wood arrived last night after laborious trip from Berlin, which he left about March 16.” This was the message Dulles cabled to Washington on April 4, 1945. On that day, the final pockets of German resistance were falling in the Ruhr, and the Allies were already in the center of the Reich (Kassel, Gotha, and Erfurt were in the process of being taken). Fritz was debriefed as usual, but the Americans in Bern had less need for him. Allen Dulles was entirely taken up with his secret negotiations with Karl Wolff, Himmler’s former right-hand man. This time, Ernst Kocherthaler took on the task of taking notes on his conversations with Fritz.

Fritz had a good deal to say, particularly about Japan. German Ambassador Heinrich Stahmer described the growing sense of political crisis in Tokyo and said he was convinced that the Japanese leaders were more and more unpopular among their people. In another cable, Stahmer set out in detail the latest technical developments in Japanese aviation. On the topic of Germany, Fritz provided the latest examples of the dissolution of Hitler’s power.

All of that was very interesting, but for Allen Dulles, the usefulness of “George Wood” had now changed its character. The head of the Bern office of the OSS wanted to make him a permanent employee, based with the Americans and able to return to Germany to fulfill precise missions as required. At first, he wanted to send him to southern Bavaria to investigate the setting up of a “national (Alpine) Redoubt” in which Dulles was convinced the Nazi leaders would take refuge to conduct their final battle. “Almost Wagnerian,” he said in his cables to Washington. Like Dulles, the leading American generals firmly believed in this scenario. For the moment, Fritz remained in Bern. Dulles asked him to investigate behind the scenes in the Reich legation, to encourage his fellow diplomats to resign, and to get hold of archive documents that might interest the Allies, notably on the financial affairs of the Nazi leaders who hoped to place their holdings in Switzerland after the defeat.

After five days in Bern, Fritz’s visa was no longer valid. From that moment on, his fate was entirely in the hands of his American friends. “George Wood” had become a stowaway living under the personal protection of Allen Dulles.

Berlin, April 1945

On April 21, 1945, Walter Bauer—the anti-Nazi entrepreneur associated with Fritz—came out of prison. He had been arrested in September 1944 in connection with the investigation of the 20 July plot and subjected to inhuman treatment for several months. On the day of his liberation, the Gestapo was considerate enough to give him two subway tickets so he could go home. Three days later, on April 24, 1945, Russian troops arrived in Berlin. Pillage and rape prevailed. Maria Fritsch had remained alone in the capital of the Reich, and Fritz had no news. She left no record about this terrible period, and no one will ever know how she lived through those days of sorrow, shame, and deliverance. On every corner could be seen bodies crushed by tanks, “emptied like toothpaste tubes.” The odor of death was mixed with the odor of springtime. In the midst of the ruins, birds, flowers, and fruit trees lived their lives as though nothing were happening.

The Charité hospital continued to fulfill its mission as well as possible. Doctors and medical personnel subsisted on whiskey and crackers and spent as much time in the hospital’s underground shelter as on the wards, three-quarters of which were destroyed. Professor Sauerbruch was back in Berlin. Adolphe Jung, still on his staff, recorded a constant flow of the wounded: “In the operating room, we are presented indiscriminately with soldiers and civilians, women and children, wounded. In the square in front of the hospital, despite the danger, the crowd still lines up at the bakery. A shell fell on the crowd of women and children. We have to operate without stopping” (April 22, 1945). “There are hardly any houses left in Berlin that have not been hit. Most of them have collapsed. Among those still standing, it is rarely possible to inhabit anywhere above the first floor. Of course there are no more telephones, no electricity or water, because even where the pipes are intact the pressure is so low that you can barely get a few drops in the cellars” (April 21). “Every two minutes, a large shell falls inside the walls of the hospital… When will I be hit?” (April 24).

On Tuesday, May 1, at 9:30 in the evening, Hamburg radio announced to the German people that serious news was about to be broadcast. Excerpts of Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony were played. Finally, Admiral Dönitz announced the death of the führer the day before in Berlin. At the Charité hospital, now treating Soviet soldiers, there was not much time to listen to the radio. The Third Reich was already practically forgotten; everyone was against it, had always been against it.

Bern, late April 1945

In late April 1945, Fritz Kolbe was given a very delicate mission by the Americans. He had no idea that this episode would strike a severe blow against his reputation and would definitively ruin his career. The war was coming to an end. The Americans were preparing the cases against German leaders whom they intended to put on trial. They were intensely interested in Nazi financial holdings outside Germany, particularly in Switzerland. But the OSS had learned that the German legation in Bern was in the process of destroying its records in view of the imminent surrender. Allen Dulles sent Fritz as an emissary to Otto Köcher, the envoy of the Reich, to persuade him to stop the destruction of documents.

Otto Köcher was extremely irritated to see Kolbe, whom he had until then considered a subordinate and who now turned out to be a traitor. He answered very curtly, stating that he would not take any orders from the Americans, even less from a German who had gone over to the Allies. But Fritz Kolbe did not give up: He attempted to persuade Köcher that it was in his interest to resign from his position. The Americans were proposing to make him part of an embryonic pro-Allied government that could quickly put an end to the war. “You have to choose between Hitler and Germany. The whole world has its eyes on you,” Fritz explained to his compatriot. Otto Köcher was angry and indignant. Unlike Kolbe, Köcher had a sense of duty and patriotism. His son was serving in the Wehrmacht. He would remain at his post until the end, in accordance with the oath of loyalty to the führer that he had taken. There was nothing further to discuss. Fritz Kolbe was unceremoniously shown to the door.

On leaving the envoy’s residence, Fritz was arrested by two plainclothes Swiss policemen who were watching the comings and goings of Otto Köcher, who was suspected of engaging in major financial manipulations for the leaders in Berlin. Some of the financial reserves of the Foreign Ministry (dozens of kilos of gold pieces) had just been secretly shipped to Bern. Was the Swiss capital about to become a rear base for the hard-core supporters of the Reich? Was the gold going to finance a pro-Nazi fifth column in Switzerland? These were the fears of the Swiss authorities, largely shared by the Americans. Thanks to the intervention of Allen Dulles, at whose home Fritz was living, the suspicions of the Swiss police about Kolbe were quickly removed. But they did not want to release him right away. They too sent him to Otto Köcher to try to get an answer to the simple question: Where is the gold of the Reich? The following evening, following orders, Fritz Kolbe made a second visit to the diplomat. Of course, he was given no information. He barely had the time to warn Köcher on behalf of the Swiss authorities against any misappropriation of funds for which he could later be prosecuted. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Ribbentrop’s representative slammed the door in Fritz’s face.