Men At War - The Soldier Spies - Men at War - The Soldier Spies Part 2
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Men at War - The Soldier Spies Part 2

" "Not even their boots," Fulmar said. "They fought wex. They deserve honorable treatment." When the French arrived and had been herded into the courtyard, Fulmar walked up to them.

"On behalf of His Excellency Sidi Hassan el Ferruch, Pasha of Ksar es Souk, I welcome you to his home. You will be fed and cared for, and when it is time, you will be taken behind American lines." He spoke in French. They seemed to accept him as a French-speaking Berber. At least he got no surprised, wary looks.

He was a little puzzled at the lack of excitement. No joy. No cries of pleasure. Then he realized that these people had expected to be taken somewhere in the desert and shot to death by the SS. They were in shock. They hadn't quite understood yet that they would live.

One of them, a wiry, intense little man, pulled himself together enough to start questioning Fulmar.

But Fulmar turned and walked off without letting him finish. He went into the palace to the small room off the library.

There was a Berber outside the door, and another inside. The German officer was sitting awkwardly on a three-legged stool, his hands still tied behind him.

Fulmar walked over to him, took a curved blade knife from a jewel encrusted scabbard on the gold cords around his waist, and cut him free.

"Have someone bring my cognac," Fulmar ordered. "And coffee and oranges and some meat."

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" the German officer asked as he rubbed his wrists.

"Absolutely," Fulmar said in flawless German. "I'm an Alt-Marburger, you know--an alumnus of Philips University, Marburg an der Lahn." "You're Fulmar?" the German asked, genuinely surprised.

"At your service, Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer," Fulmar said. "Where the hell did that armored car come from? That could have sent this whole operation down the toilet!"

"What was I supposed to say? Thank you, I don't need an armored car'?"

"It could have fucked things up," Fulmar repeated, repressing a smile.

They looked at each other.

"This is a little strange, isn't it?" Fulmar asked.

There had been a brief moment's emotion. But as quickly as it had come up, both seemed anxious to restrain it.

"Are you going to live up to your end of the bargain?" the German asked.

"As soon as we get everybody safely out of sight, I'll take you back to your car," Fulmar said.

"And what happens between there and Ourzazate?"

"You're safe between here and there," Fulmar said. "If I were you, I'd be worried about getting from Ourzazate to Rabat." The game was over, Fulmar thought.

And the pawns had not been swept from the board.

He wondered why he had no feeling of exultation, and the answer came immediately, A new game had already begun.

TRREE] Sh Franeo-Oorman Xrtistic Cosmission Rabal, lsorocco 10 November 1942 Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz was not in his office when Obersturmbannfuhrer SS-SD Johann Muller went there looking for him.

But Muller found him calmly packing his luggage in his apartment, a high-ceilinged well furnished suite overlooking a palm-lined boulevard in the center of town.

Von Heurten-Mitnitz was a tall, sharp-featured Pomeranian aristocrat, the younger brother of the Graf von Heurten-Mitnitz. He was the sixth generation of his family to serve his country as a diplomat.

"Good afternoon, Obersturmbannfuhrer, "von Heurten-Mitnitz said dryly as he placed a shirt in his suitcase. "You have doubtless come to tell me that our courageous French allies have driven the Americans into the sea?" Obersturmbannfuhrer Johann Muller snorted.

"In a pig's ass they have," he said.

"What is the situation?" von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.

Muller told him what had taken place just outside Ksar es Souk and of his meeting with Fulmar.

"Finally, face-to-face, eh?" Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

"What's he like?"

"I thought he was an Arab at first," Muller said.

Von Heurten-Mitnitz looked at him, waiting for him to go on. "And somehow I expected him to be older," Muller said. "Good-looking kid.

Well set up. Smart. Sure of himself." Von Heurten-Mitnitz nodded thoughtfully. The description was more or less what he had expected.

"And what of the other Americans?" von Heurten-Mitnitz asked dryly.

"I think the Americans will be here in Rabat in twenty-four hours," Muller said.

"Something is slowing them down? "von Heurten-Mitnitz asked.

"There's a reliable rumor going around that they had to waste two hours sinking the invincible French North African fleet," Muller replied.

"Well, it appears that you and I are to be preserved from the Americans in order to assist in the future victory of the Fatherland.

Passage has been arranged for you and me, and not more than one hundred kilos of official papers, et cetera, aboard "Junkers at half past eight, "von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

"There is a fifty-kilo allowance for personal luggage."

"Why so late?

" Muller asked.

"The Americans also wasted several hours sweeping the invincible French Service de l'aire from the skies," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

"It was a choice between a U-boat and the Junkers at night." Muller walked to a table and picked up a bottle of Steinhager.

"May I?" he asked, already pouring some of the liquor into a glass.

"Of course," Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said. "And would you be good enough to pour one for me?" When Muller handed von Heurten-Mitnitz the small, stemmed glass, he asked, "Did you know what the Americans had in mind?" Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz met his eyes.

"Not in the way I think you mean," he said. "I knew they were coming.

It was the logical thing for them to do, and I knew they were capable of mounting a transatlantic invasion force. But they didn't tell me about it.

Murphy, in fact, went out of his way to lead me to believe the Americans intended to reinforce the British from Cairo."

"Then they didn't trust you," Muller said simply. "So why trust them?" Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz sipped at his Steinhager before replying.

"The simple answer to that, Johann," he said, "is that I have--we have-no choice but to trust them. Do you understand? I didn't expect them to tell me details of their invasion."

"We could arrange to be captured here," Muller went on doggedly.

"Have you thought about that? We just don't show up at the airport."

"That would work for you," von Heurten-Mitnitz said. "If you want, you can do just that."

"It wouldn't work for you? Why not?"

"You would be considered a soldier and become a POW," von Heurtenmitnitz said. "I have a diplomatic passport. I'm quite sure they would put me on a plane to Lisbon for return to Germany." "Not if you said you didn't want to go," Muller said.

"But I have to go, Johnny," von Heurten-Mitnitz, said. "You understand that." Muller snorted, drained his Steinhager, and poured another.

"You have to put things in perspective," von Heurten-Mitnitz said.

GAITHOUGH it just began, the invasion of North Africa is already history. What they want me for is the future." Muller grunted again.

"What they want us for, you mean." He paused, frowning. "And aren't you afraid that you--and, for that matter, me--that we'll look bad in Berlin for not having done more than we did here?"

"Are we going to be blamed, you mean? Or regarded with suspicion?" von Heurten-Mitnitz asked and went on without waiting for a reply.

"I don't think so. I think what happened here will be regarded as yet another manifestation of French perfidy and ineptitude in battle.

And with the Americans in Morocco, I think the Fuhrer and his entourage will want to put the unpleasant subject out of mind. Until, of course, the Fuhrer in his good time decides to take Morocco back." Muller snorted derisively.

"And have the Americans told you what they want from us in Germany?"

"To a degree," Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said. "But I think the less you know about that now, the better." He closed his suitcase and buckled its leather straps.

"Are you packed?" iii packed right after Fulmar telephoned me, Muller said.

"Well, then, lets collect your luggage and go out to the airfield," von Heurten-Mitnitz said. He looked at Muller. i, Johnny, if you want to stay and be captured, I'll understand. I can also come up with a convincing story to explain it back home. You know, devotion to duty and all the rest of it." Jesus Christ, don't make it easy for me," Muller said. "I've almost t'lked myself into staying. Almost, shit!

When I walked in here, I was going to tell you I was staying. And then I remember what those swine did in Russia.

What they're doing in Germany, to Germans... " lyes," von Heurten-Mitnitz said, understanding.

He looked around the room.4, I rather hate to be leaving, he said.

Therers much about Morocco I really like." Muller looked at him.

I wish we were going someplace besides Germany, he said.

FOUR] Washington, D. C. November 12 42 The radio message was received and logged in at the Pentagon Message Center at 0515 hours, Washington time. Since it had been transmitted in the clear, no decryption was necessary. It was placed in Box G at hours.

Box G was emptied at 0528 hours, and its contents carried by armed messenger to the National Institutes of Health building, where it was logged in at 0605 hours. At 0615, the message was placed in a box marked TOR, by which time it had a red tag stapled to it, identifying it as an' Operational Immediate" message deserving the Director's immediate attention.

At 0619 hours, the messages in the Director's box were picked up by Chief Boatswain's Mate J. R. Ellis, USN, a ruddy-faced, heavyset man of thirty eight whose unbuttoned uniform jacket revealed a Colt. 45 semiautomatic pistol carried high on his hip in a "skeleton" holster.

Ellis read the sheaf of messages, then put them into a briefcase.

He buttoned his uniform jacket and went to the parking lot, where a white hat sailor, a torpedoman second class, sat behind the wheel of a Buick Roadmaster sedan. Ellis got into the front seat beside him.

"How they hanging, Chief?" the torpedoman asked, and then, without waiting for a reply, asked, "Georgetown?

"Georgetown," Ellis confirmed.

When Chief Ellis had joined the OSS--so early on that it was then the , Office of the Coordinator of Information"--he was a bosun's mate first class just back from the Yangtze River Patrol, and he had been the driver of the Director's Buick Roadmaster. His duties were different now, if somewhat vaguely defined. Newcomers to the OSS, particularly senior military officers who might naturally tend to assume a chief petty officer was available to do their bidding, were told two things about Chief Ellis, Only the Colonel and the Captain which meant Colonel William J. Donovan, the Director of the OSS, and Captain Peter Douglass, USN, his deputy) gave orders to Chief Ellis.

More important, if the Chief asked that something be done, it was wise to presume he was speaking with the authority of at least the Captain.

When the Buick pulled to the curb before a Georgetown town house, burly man in civilian clothing suddenly appeared from an alley. It was clearly his intention to keep whoever got out of the Buick from reaching the door of the town house.

And then he recognized Ellis, and the hand that had been inside his jacket reaching for his pistol, came out and was raised in a wave.

"What do you say, Chief?" he asked as Ellis stepped out of the car and walked toward the red-painted door of the building.

"I thought you got off at six, Ellis said.

"So did I. Those sonsofbitches are late again," the burly man said.

Colonel William J. Donovan opened his own front door. He was stocky aa and silver-haired, and he was dressed in a sleeveless undershirt.

Shaving cream was still on his face.

"The damned alarm didn't go off," he said. "How much time do we have?

"Enough," Ellis said.

"You didn't have to come here, Chief," Donovan said. "I was going by the office anyway." He turned and motioned for Ellis to follow him inside.

"Something important in there?" Donovan asked, indicating the briefcase.

Ellis opened it and handed Donovan the sheaf of red tagged messages.

Donovan read them, carefully, and then handed them back.

"Douglass see these yet?" he asked.

"No, sir, I thought I would send them back with the driver," Ellis said.

"You saw Murphy's radio?"

"Yes, sir."

"There never was any doubt in your mind about that, was there, Chief?"