The Intelligence Page

Don Angel Alcazar de Velasco

Part 9:
Martin Bormann Arrives in Spain

by Don Angel Alcazar de Velasco


I stood with my companion on the conning tower of the U-Boat and stared out across the white-flecked Atlantic. The coast of Spain was a grey smudge in the thin light of early dawn. It was quiet except for the hollow slap of waves against the submarine’s hull. Then my companion spoke: ‘This is not running away. This is merely a pause. The war is not over as everyone believes. One day Germany - Hitler’s Germany - will emerge victorious.’

He gazed toward the distant coast. But I knew that it was not Spain that he saw. He was seeing Germany. A much diminished, war torn, scarred and defeated Germany.

‘One day I shall return.’ he challenged. ‘On that, I, Martin Bormann, give you my word.’

In silence we descended to the deck below. As Bormann dropped into sight, a 12 man Kriegsmarine guard of honor crashed to attention. Martin Bormann faced the U-Boat commander across the narrow deck and proudly drew himself to attention. Their arms came up as one and together they answered the salute. ‘Heil Hitler.’ It was May 7, 1946 - exactly one year to the day after the signing by Germany of an unconditional surrender at Reims. A new chapter in the history of Nazism had begun.

After my escape from Germany, where I spent the last three months of the war in the Führerbunker, Hitler’s headquarters beneath the Reich Chancellery, I thought for a time that I had finally finished with my Nazi masters.

On leaving the Reich, I had been instructed to alert the members of the Nazi espionage ring in Spain, of which I had been the wartime chief, to prepare for a ‘special visitor’. These were the instructions given to me by Colonel SS Wagner, Intelligence Chief at Rottach am Egern - scene of the Nazi’s last stand against the invading Allies.

From time to time during the following months I recalled these orders, but was convinced they would never be put into operation. I little imagined I was soon to be plunged once more into the National Socialist cause, which I was certain had no further need for me. Until that day in December, 1945 when I received a visit from Felipe, a German who had worked with my organization in Spain. It had been several years since I had last seen him. Then, he had weighed a good 16 stones, but now he had lost considerable weight. He was tall, blond-haired & aged about 40.

He threw his arms around me and seemed very happy to see me again. We talked over old times together, before and during the war. I was not very surprised when Felipe told me he was still working for the Nazis. I knew that large sums of money had been deposited with different agents in various parts of the world - all men dedicated to the Nazi cause. These men, and Felipe was one of them, had been chosen to keep Nazism strong in the event of Germany losing the war. They were all fanatics. Some of them had even sold their homes and possessions to carry on their work. But Felipe was more fortunate and still had access to large sums of ready cash. His was a key position in the escape route that had been reserved for those top Nazis who survived the war.

Because of this, I felt sure that his surprise visit was not simply a social one. It was probably connected with the arrival of my long-awaited ‘special visitor’. Felipe told me nothing of his mission, but before leaving he handed me a sealed envelope which he said contained important information.

I opened it in the usual way. My espionage training with the Germans had taught me how to handle this kind of message. I went to my bureau and selected a large plain envelope, a size larger than the one Felipe had left. I placed the one inside the other and sprayed the whole package with a liquid which I kept locked in my desk drawer. Quickly I plugged in an electric iron and pressed the twin package until it was dry. It became rigid.

Treatment with a second liquid spray caused the inside envelope to open. To have tried to open it in any other way would have resulted in the message it contained being destroyed. My instructions were written in Spanish.

    EXPECT SPECIAL VISITOR IN MADRID BETWEEN JANUARY 1ST AND 15TH. THIS PERSON, WHOM YOU WILL RECOGNIZE, WILL BE BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE BEARER OF THIS LETTER.
    --ZAPATO

ZAPATO! That was the code name which Wagner had made me memorize before leaving Rottach am Egern.

I spent the next four weeks in a frenzy of speculation. The peace of mind I had known over the past few months vanished, to be replaced by an undeniable compulsion to be once more back in the service of the cause. The message, though guarded in its phrasing, told me the one thing I wanted most to hear. At least one important Nazi had survived the war.

Felipe came to my house on January 3, 1946. But this time he was not alone. His companion I did not recognize at first. He was wearing a dark overcoat over a grey suit and wore a bottle-green trilby hat pulled down low over his eyes.

I knew I had seen this man before, but I could not see enough of his face to give him a name. Felipe introduced us. ‘Angel, I would like to present you to Herr Fleischmann,’

It was as I stepped forward to shake his hand that I recognized Martin Bormann. But a much changed Bormann. When I had last seen the Party Chancellor in the Bunker, he had been a good three stones heavier. His heavy jowled face had grown lean and his cheeks drawn. But there was about his eyes some unmistakable gleam, which reflected his insatiable appetite for power and limitless ambition.

He removed his hat and I noticed he was partly bald at the front - though I discovered that this had been artificially brought about. Plastic surgery had taken care of his prominent Greek nose.

Felipe was curious to learn the real identity of the man he had brought to my house and at the first opportunity, he took me aside and asked ‘Who is this Herr Fleischmann?’

I told him: ‘Who else should it be but Herr Fleischmann?’

But he pressed me to know what position the man held in Germany. I told him I had known Herr Fleischmann as one of Himmler’s assistants. I could see that Felipe was not satisfied with that answer, but he shrugged and dropped the subject and left shortly afterwards.

As soon as we were alone, I took Bormann into the lounge, offered him a cigarette and a glass of Spanish brandy; both of which he accepted - and I waited.

He spoke first. ‘Do you remember me from the bunker?’

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘You are Martin Bormann.’

He smiled thinly & told me, ‘That’s right. But to everyone else, I am Herr Fleischmann. Do you understand?’

‘Of course.’ And then remembering to whom Felipe’s message had been addressed, I added ‘If you are Herr Fleischmann, then I am not myself, but Senor Gomez.’ Gomez was the name I had worked under in the Berlin Bunker. We talked in Spanish, though the Spanish of Bormann was a terrible thing.

‘You will have to study hard if you want to improve your Spanish sufficiently to stay here undetected.’ I told him.

‘I shall be staying in Spain permanently.’ he replied. ‘But I shall take your advice and study the language.’ Then he handed me a white envelope, blank on the outside and unsealed. Inside were further instructions, signed ZAPATO.

I was told to take Bormann down to Condor, a Castle on the Mediterranean coast of Spain at Denia, 30 miles south of Valencia. I was further informed that Macario, a German who had been living in Spain for over thirty years and who had been working for the Nazis since before the war, was expecting us. He had a large house two miles from the castle, and the use of a small cottage built into the castle wall.

I assumed then that my part in the business would be over when I had delivered Bormann to Denia, but Bormann warned me ‘Get plenty of exercise. You must be fit to make a long journey very soon.’

That night he slept in the guest bedroom of my home. He had arrived without luggage of any kind and I had to send out for pyjamas and shaving gear.

During the next two days, my conversations with Bormann naturally revolved around the post-war situation in Germany. At this stage, he was not prepared to discuss the fate of Hitler but was only too willing to talk about the probable fate of other Nazi leaders, then awaiting trial at Nuremberg.

He happily prophesied ‘These people will soon be paid for the high treason they committed.’

He was particularly bitter against his former arch-enemy at Hitler’s court, Hermann Göring. ‘That pot-bellied swine was the worst person Hitler could possibly have chosen to run the Luftwaffe.’ he declared.

Ribbentrop too, he castigated, as the man responsible for Germany’s premature declaration of war. ‘He may have been a good ambassador; which I doubt - but he should never have been made Minister for Foreign Affairs.’

These two men, Bormann claimed, pushed Hitler into a war for which Germany was neither economically nor militarily prepared. Göring, he said, had given Hitler a completely false impression regarding Germany’s preparedness for total war in 1930 - 1939. ‘No power in Europe can fight us in the air.’ Bormann claimed Göring had told Hitler. And Hitler believed him.

‘For his part, Ribbontrop as Foreign Minister had done an unforgivable thing.’ Bormann went on, ‘in failing to report truthfully and accurately to Hitler the character, morale, feelings and strength of Britain and her Empire when he returned from his last pre-war visit to London.’

‘Hitler proved extremely wise in many of his decisions.’ Bormann explained to me. ‘It was a pity he could not have been more wise in his choice of advisors.’ I never heard Bormann comment once on either Göring or Ribbentrop without he accompanied such comment with an insult.

More Don Angel Alcazar de Velasco

Note:

This story began in KTB #110 and is quite an eye-opener, but this is only the tip of the iceberg! The first part of this incredible story is the very long letter sent to us some years ago by DON ANGEL ALCAZAR de VELASCO (158-+-1985), Chief of the Spanish spy ring working for the Hitler Government during World War II.

Was he really a spy working for the Hitler Government? Yes, we confirmed this with CAPT BOB THEW (333-+-1987) when BOB was in our HQ some years ago. He said that DON ANGEL was not a very good agent, but he certainly was one. And from the other side, PETER HANSEN (251-LIFE-1987) also confirmed DON ANGEL was an agent for Germany but not a very good one. Is everything in the letter from DON ANGEL true? Judge that for yourself - but wait until all the data has been presented.

Please remember that we ask you to keep these facts in mind while reading this incredible story by DON ANGEL.

    1) DON ANGEL was an ardent NAZI throughout the War and up to the time of his death. This is obvious from time to time in the text of this letter, so don’t let it bother you.
    2) Spies and agents usually tend to embellish their feats and DON ANGEL was no different, so we must ‘add a grain of salt’ to some of these revelations.
    3) There are twists and turns in this long letter; some HARD facts in our files we’ll print after this letter. DO NOT FORM AN OPINION until you have read all the amazing facts you’ll see here on our INTELLIGENCE PAGE.

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© Copyright 1996 by Harry Cooper, Sharkhunters International, Inc.
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