The Intelligence Page

Don Angel Alcazar de Velasco

Part 4: Meeting Bormann

by Peter Hansen


"Hitler has ordered the complete destruction of Germany and the German people. He claims the nation has proved itself weak and therefore does not deserve to survive."

So this was it. Hitler had finally recognized that our position was hopeless. He had accepted defeat. And now, with this 'scorched earth' policy, meant to ensure that nothing of any value would be left to the armies now gathering for their final thrusts into the Third Reich.

"There is no need," the Führer had said, "to consider the basis of even a most primitive existence any longer."

I could not believe that any German would take this spiteful, lunatic order seriously. To me, as to Wagner, it seemed like the final proof that Hitler was mad.

In fact, this order was never totally carried out, thanks to the sanity of men like Albert Speer, the Reich Industrial Minister. Even though he had served the NAZI cause since the beginnings of their power, he clearly saw the catastrophic possibilities of 'scorched earth'.

But from the babel of orders and counter-orders which flowed in and out of the bunker in those last desperate days, it was clear that there was one man at least who was determined to put the Führer's policy into action - Martin Bormann!

MARTIN BORMANN

Early in my days in the bunker, I'd become fascinated by this man. He seemed to move almost unnoticed among the strutting NAZI hierarchy. He was a quiet man, not given to powerful speeches of death-defying slogans like the bunker's other powerful occupant, Josef Goebbels. And yet, there was no doubting his tremendous power. Here was Hitler's most faithful lieutenant, his most adamant supporter - the grey eminence behind the throne.

His quietness was deceptive. Although almost unknown outside the immediate circle of NAZI rule, he had succeeded in usurping the influence of men like Himmler and even Göring, now a discredited and untrusted buffoon. Bormann's secret of success seemed to be his constant presence. Hitler could hardly have turned around in those days without finding the attentive Bormann at his elbow. And such ready attention was to pay off for Martin Bormann. Before the end, he was to take charge, even over his old master.

When Hitler unleashed his 'scorched earth' policy, it was Bormann who reinforced it with a series of dreadful orders.

On March 23, he decreed that the whole population of Germany - men, women, children, slave laborers and prisoners of war were to be rounded up and force-marched to Berlin.

Had that order been carried out, the result would have been mass starvation. He must have been aware that millions would have died. But knowing Martin Bormann as I do, I doubt whether any such appeals on the grounds of humanity would have affected him.

I came into contact with this shadowy man only rarely while in the bunker. Yet on the few occasions when I did see him, I was struck by his apparent determination, his power and his dedication to the Führer. Even then it crossed my mind that if there was one man who might keep the flag of NAZIsm flying even after defeat in war, that man would be Martin Bormann. And events proved me right.

Now, as March slipped by, the military situation grew more and more desperate. The Red Army had smashed its way through Prussia, the British were thrusting into Northern Germany and the American armies were gathering for their thrust deep into the heart of the Reich. The messages we handled were a catalogue of gloom, with only the occasional local success to revive our sinking spirits. Days and nights became meaningless, the atmosphere among the staff in the bunker alternated between resignation and fear, and visitors to the bunker dwindled to four or five a day.

Always there was Bormann, with his own quarters and his own staff in a separate bunker under the Chancellery, but the impression I got was that fewer and fewer NAZI officials and Generals were risking a trip to Berlin and the ominous threat of the advancing Russians. They knew that above all, the Russians would exact awful retribution from the NAZIs they so bitterly hated. And the hope that the remnants of our best PANZER Divisions would be able to hold off the Red Army seizing Berlin were now crumbling.

One morning, I was sitting at my overcrowded desk talking to Wagner and Oberbeil when the teleprinter began to click. Wagner rose and went over to the machine. He ripped out a two-line message, which was in code and had to be fed into the deciphering unit. Then Wagner read it. He froze for a moment, then with a sudden burst of fury, he screwed the paper into a ball and threw it into the corner.

"Oh the bastards!" he snarled, smashing his fist down on the table. "The lousy bastards!"

Oberbeil went over and picked the ball of paper off the floor and smoothed it out. "We shall have to communicate this to the Führer, whatever it is." he said as he did so.

Wagner rounded on his. "What do we communicate?" Everything is lost, you fool!" and he collapsed into a chair. Oberbeil showed me the message. It told us that our defenses had been smashed and the Red Army was fighting its way into Berlin. The news, although it had been expected, stunned the bunker. We could do little - except pray that the Russians did not take us prisoner. It was like living in a mad-house. By now I was thoroughly frightened. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, everyone else around me was frightened too

Since the heavy bombardment of Berlin had begun in March, morale had sunk almost to zero. The whole bunker trembled continually. Bombing by aircraft was going on around the clock and had been for six weeks and now, as the Russians closed in, the perceptibly different noise of artillery shelling added to the general din. We could definitely tell the difference between the explosions of shells and bombs.

The shells we heard -but the bombs we could feel. During really heavy raids, it became necessary when drinking coffee to hold the cup firmly with both hands to prevent its spilling. now and again even our emergency supply of electricity would be cut, plunging us into total darkness. It was then the urge to scream out loud became really terrible. I can think of only one reason, in fact, why I didn't go raving mad in that bombarded rat hole. It was that we were all encouraged - often instructed - to take drugs in the form of pills which, it was claimed, would make us feel optimistic. No drug could have done that, but the stimulant we took might have been the reason we carried on.

They certainly worked on Wagner for short spells, but he took them in handfuls. Willy Oberbeil and myself were more wary. Even so, when I had to do without them after being interned in a Swiss refugee camp, I found my nerves in shreds and I quickly became depressed to the point of suicide.

Perhaps the only message which brought any consolation to those in the bunker the last days was the startling news we received on April 13. We learned that President Franklin Roosevelt had died.

Oddly enough, Wagner was instructed to contact Intelligence headquarters in the stronghold of Rottach am Egern in southern Germany, to ask if we had any hand in it. The answer came back: "No, it was a normal death."

The news of the American leader's death was seized on in the bunker both as a sign of a change in our fortunes and as an event which would lead to our salvation, even at this eleventh hour. I heard that Dr. Goebbels confidently predicted that, with Roosevelt out of the way, the Allies would now wake up to the threat of Russia dominating Europe and would quickly end hostilities against Germany and join us in the fight against the Red hordes. According to reports which had come into the bunker earlier in the year from our agents in the United States, it was Roosevelt who snuffed any hopes the NAZIs had that the Russians would be kept out of Berlin. Even then it was quite clear that, had they wanted to, the Americans and British could easily have won the race to the Reich capitol.

But Roosevelt, we were told, had already had secret talks with Stalin without the knowledge or approval of the British and French in which the Americans had agreed that the Russians take the capitol. We were informed that, privately, the President regarded the Russians as the only people fit to do the dirty job of taking Berlin. The Russians, he said, were savages and he was perfectly happy to let them take Berlin. The Americans wanted no part of it. And as he further agreed with the Russians, our agents said, just how Germany would be partitioned when hostilities ended.

Accordingly, instructions were issued to the Allied Commander, General Eisenhower direct from the White House, ordering him to slow the advance of the British and American armies into Germany. The Russians must be given time to take Berlin and do their 'dirty work'. Therefore, in contradiction of his Field Generals Patton and Montgomery, Eisenhower put on the brakes on the drive for Berlin. But now, with Roosevelt dead, NAZI hopes were rising that the Allies in the west would resume their push to the capitol. Regrettably for Germany - and as it turned out, for the rest of the world - this never happened. One effect of this American failure was to make it easier for me to escape Germany. And not only for me, but for many NAZI leaders who fled across the borders to Switzerland.

Had they seized their opportunities, the Allies might well have captured the man who was destined to continue preaching our NAZI creed long after the war was over- Martin Bormann himself."

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© Copyright 1995 by Harry Cooper, Sharkhunters International, Inc.
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