Synopsis

In Chapter 1 (KTB #148) ERICH begins his career as a spy, and lets us know about his love of beautiful women. In Chapter 2 (KTB #150), he was transferred home to Germany and his shipboard romance with Karen ended In Chapter 3 (KTB #151) he began his training as a spy and learned that a spy who falls in love with an enemy spy -- gets shot: In Chapter 4 (KTB #152) we see where ERICH falls for a woman who turns out to be a German spy herself and her job was to lure German spies in training to betray themselves -- and ERICH is nearly finished as a spy (n KTB #153 last month, we read where ERICH was to be in charge of 'Operation PELIKAN', the effort to blow up the Panama Canal with two Ju 87 STUKA dive bombers brought over on two U-boats. Sounds crazy? They were going to do it, but someone tipped off the Americans and the plan was scrapped.

CHAPTER 6 THE START OF A GRIM ADVENTURE (I)

The Fuhrer looked down at me with dull eyes from out of a square, dark brown wooden frame. The room had just been redecorated and smelt of paint. The electric fan revolved silently. Dr. S. was fiddling uneasily with his blotter; I was sitting facing him. It was ten o'clock in the morning. My time in Germany was up. I was about to leave on the American mission.

I looked past the Fuhrer into the street where women, weary from the strain of air raids, weeping and waiting, were going about the day's affairs. All of them, the nameless, the anxious, the heavyladen, the long-suffering, the greedy, all had their story. They would now be on their way to get their few ounces of cheese on Coupon VII/3, or their half-pound of apples on Special Points II/I. But it was not my job to worry about them. I was about to leave on the American mission.

A few weeks before I had still been in Spain. Sun, Mediterranean, peace, fiery-eyed women. The agent's war fought over a glass of whisky in the bar. Dancing. I had made acquaintances and friends there and they were all preparing to leave the sinking ship, organizing their luggage for flight. They had forged papers with false names.

They had dollars and Swiss francs, and no inhibitions about discussing their plans for the future. What was it all to me? I was about to leave on the American mission.

Believe me," said Dr. S., "I should have liked to spare you this, but we have no one who speaks the language as well as you do and above all, no one else upon whom we can depend .......... So you have made up your mind to get there by U-boat?"

"Yes," I replied

He stood up and walked jerkily the length of the room. He was pale and stooped just a little One could see that he had a great ', deal on his mind.

"I am not very much in favor of the project," he went on, "but after all, it's your affair." He remained silent. "You know, of course, that six of your predecessors ended up on the electric chair."

EDITOR NOTE - He refers to six of the eight men dropped from U-202 on Long Island NY and U-584 on the beaches off Jacksonville, Florida. All were quickly caught, thanks to one turncoat in their midst and six were executed shortly thereafter.

"Yes, I know," I replied.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Obviously," I went on "it would be safer to stay at home." He nodded and a smile passed over his face for a moment.

"Of course," he said. "Well, how do you propose to go to work?"

"I have one condition."

"Condition?"

"Yes. I need a proper American. The real stuff, not some seamy adventurer. You understand? He must know the latest dance steps and the latest popular songs. He must know what with one's trousers should be and how short one should have one's hair cut.

He must know everything about baseball and have all the Hollywood gossip at his finger-tips. This man must stay with me at least until I become assimilated."

"Have you such a man in view?" asked S.

"That's the trouble," I replied. "I have absolutely no idea where to look for him."

"We'll find him," replied S.

The interview was at an end for that day. The search for my assistant was as eventful as it was incidentally humorous In the year 1944 I had to find an American who was prepared to work against his own country and who at the same time was courageous, sensible and trustworthy. For if he proved to be unreliable later he would automatically become my hangman. I enjoyed the privilege of being able to select my own executioner. The main thing was to act quickly.

We combed the prisoner-of-war camps. We looked over the American fliers who had been shot down. They were fine, highspirited young fellows who accepted their miserable rations in good heart and regarded America as the center of the world. The case of the German flier Soldner who had been persuaded by a British woman agent disguised as a Red Cross nurse to spy against Germany occurred to us. We were now trying to create a Soldner case ourselves.

EDITOR NOTE - Soldner was the German pilot who was captured by the British, fell in love with a female British agent and talked too much. Upon being dropped back into Germany, he had remorse and confessed everything, asking for another chance. His superiors felt that if he once talked too much to a pretty face, he would do it again - they had him shot.

We introduced women agents to some prisoners whom we had carefully selected from a large number, but we had no luck. Our candidates' love of their country was stronger than their need of a woman. Furthermore, we simply had not got enough women agents. Himmler liked to see the women in the kitchen and, with his limited imagination, failed to grasp how important they were on the silent front. The Russians and the English have frequently based whole systems of espionage on women and with great success. If we wanted to avail ourselves of this weapon we had to do it behind Himmler's back, and always under the threat of being called to account by him.

I came across an anglicized Dutchman who had spent twelve years in America. I observed him for two whole days before I approached him. We drank together. After the second bottle he showed his unsuitability for my project. He wanted money. All my life I have despised people who spy for money, and that accounts for ninety-nine per cent of all agents. For one idealist, if one can call him that (today I would call him a fool), there are ninety-nine blackguards. The men with whom one has to work in the secret service are often the most despicable rabble that the world can throw to the surface. Prostituted, procurers, cutthroats, traitors and criminals of all types and of all countries. Whomever they work for and whatever they work for, ninety-nine per cent of them are always the scum of humanity. I had time to reflect on the qualities of my so-called colleagues later when I was awaiting the hangman. Shortly before execution your last illusion also meets its death

They brought me a young, lanky American flight-lieutenant who with his 'Lightning' had voluntarily landed behind the German line, and, to the astonishment of all the interrogation officers who had been in contact with him, had declared that he wished to place himself at Germany's disposal. We discovered that his Group Commander had robbed him of his betrothed. He was embittered and it was for that reason that the young fellow wished now to fight on the side of the Germans. His story seemed so incredible that for some time we took him for an agent, but were finally convinced that due to some mental black-out he had simply run away. I took him to one side.

"Listen," 1 said, "you can get your revenge on the Americans. That's what you want, isn't it? We're planning a big affair."

"What is it?" he asked indifferently.

"You'll find that our later ..... In any case we're gong to America with excellently forged papers and a whole heap of money. You needn't worry, we've plenty of experience of these affairs."

"I know all about that," he said. "Why do your people end up on the electric chair when they've go so much experience....? And why do you think I've run away from America?" he asked me.

"Because you hate the Yanks," I replied.

"Quite right, and for that reason I've no wish to go back to them! See?"

"You really want to fight on our side?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "but not as you think. Not with machine-guns, nor with forged papers. Just give me a microphone and I'll talk to my erstwhile comrades over the radio. They've had a bellyful already anyhow. But that's all that I will do for this goddam war."

I took a good look at him. I could see that he was afraid. Fear was a thing which at that time I did not fully understand. I let him go but time was getting more and more pressing.... ..... U-1230 was ready for me, and while it was having a final run over, I was measured for the uniform of a naval chief engineer. The uniform, of !he best possible cloth, suited me well, and I would have liked to w ear it for the rest of the war. But the time of departure was drawing ever nearer and I still had not found my companion.

Then an acquaintance at MT telephoned me. "Go to the V.I.P.'s quarter in The Hague." He named a well-known part of the town which I already knew by hearsay. It was the part of the town reserved for the S. S. The S. S. officers who spent their leave here rode the horses from the Royal Stables and had the swimming baths warmed. If you were posted to The Hague and knew the right people you could live like a lord.

In the midst of this oasis of peace and pleasure sat Billy, the American, young, well-fed and contented. No one knew what to do with him, but at the same time his ticket had been paid for by the German consul in Lisbon. When we met for the first time Billy had no idea who I was.

He obviously took me for one of the S. S. officers who were staying there. "You're an American?" I said.

'Yes," he replied, "but my mother's German. I don't want to be an American." He said this in English. He didn't know a word of German.

'And is that why you've come here?" I said.

He nodded. "I hate America. I'll show that arrogant lot. I'll show them what they've brought me to."

”Well, I have nothing against it," I replied. We went out together. You could never leave Billy alone; he always got into difficulties. As he spoke only English he was frequently taken for a spy or at least for a shot-down American airman. On one occasion an over-zealous S. S man pummeled into him. On another occasion three Red Cross nurses to whom he had spoken concerned him and had him marched away by the military police.

I looked him over. He was a soft, easily-influenced young chap, but perhaps something could be made of him. I have often had to rely upon my intuitive knowledge of people and I was certain that Billy's hatred for America was genuine Whenever we spoke of the U S.A. his face twitched, whether we were sober or not. We often went drinking together. Billy, or to give him his full name, William Curtis Colepaugh, was one of the thirstiest and most accomplished drinkers I have ever met. I knew his life history from our files. It read like a novel written with a broomstick.

Billy came from Boston, the son of a German mother and an American father. When Billy was still in school the marriage broke up. Billy was on his mother's side and she took care that he received a good education. He was an apt pupil, distinguished himself in the Boy Scouts and was publicly honored for rescuing two children from drowning at the risk of his own life. He left high school with the most glowing reports one year before the usual time, became a student of at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and later at the Admiral Farragut School in New York and the Grand Lakes Naval Center.

In 1939, after the outbreak of war, he made friends with the crew of the German cargo vessel Pauline Frederik which was unable to sail back. There was a good deal of camaraderie and a great deal of whiskey. There were the quick German victories, there were the celebrations, there was confidence that Germany would win the war. Billy was very much aware of his half-German descent. He was proud that the German sailors called him Wilhelm and clapped him on the shoulder. He was at the Captain's birthday party and met the German consul in Boston, Dr. Scholz, there.

The consul realized at once that something could be made of Billy's devotion to Germany. Billy became a spy without realizing it He completed his course at the Naval College with great success He sailed as midshipman on convoy ships from America to England and reported his experiences immediately upon return to the zealous Dr Scholz. Them came the blow. Billy was refused a commission because of his friendly attitude towards Germany.

War was declared between America and Germany and Dr. Scholz went home Billy had to register at once for military service, the greatest possible humiliation for an up-and-coming naval officer Billy fled from America, made his way at the German consulate there. They showed him the door but as a matter of prudence reported the matter to Germany.

In the Wilhelmstrasse Billy was adequately vouched for by Dr Scholz and they cabled for him to come to Germany at once. But Billy had disappeared for the moment and they had to search for him. However, men like Billy can always be found in a sailor's tavern. He had forgotten his sticky reception at the German consulate and was prepared to go to Europe immediately. He got himself engaged as a steward, traveled to New York, passed all the control points, and eventually got on to the diplomatic ship Gripsholm as a potato-peeler. He landed in Lisbon and presented himself at the German Embassy there for military service. He was smuggled over the frontier.

But what was to be done with him now? He received his basic training in a German S.S. company but he could speak no word of German and showed himself to be quite impossible as a soldier. That was how Billy came to The Hague. We had known for a long time that the F.B.I. were looking for him as a deserter. Billy's own story was investigated in detail and it was found to agree with the records. This was proof of his reliability. I was still uneasy on one or two points but time left me no choice.

"Things are getting serious, Billy," I told him. "You must come with me to Berlin."

"Afraid I can't," he replied. "I can't leave Trujs alone."

"And who is Trujs?" I asked him.

"My fiance."

The girl did not fit into my program at all. I observed her. She was a pale blonde, an easy-going girl who made eyes at all the men. We would have to Billy away from her, but that would not be difficult.

"See to it," I told my confidential colleagues, "that the girl gets into different company, and that Billy gets into the right train." It worked. Trujs changed her affections to a young German officer and a week later Billy came to Berlin.

I returned from The Hague an the 20th July 1944. It was the day of the up rising against Hitler, but no one knew anything about that officially I had to share my sleeper with an Army colonel I introduced myself

"Oh, a civilian," he grunted. "That means trouble at the frontier."

”Perhaps you'll be able to do something for me, Colonel," I said.

"We'll see," he said without enthusiasm

The frontier I was allowed to pass without a word. The colonel was asked politely but firmly to go to the control office on the station. "Oh, let the Colonel have his sleep," I said, and the patrol left him in peace too.

Yes, even on the 20th July 1944, the papers I carried were a passe-partont. My American mission, Operation ELSTER, was a high priority top secret affair, but all the same there was no one in Amt V1 who did not know about it. Only a few people actually mentioned it to me, but everyone I met looked at me in a diffident or embarrassed sort of way. They couldn't understand why ever I had taken it on.

And why had I indeed? Obviously I had known for some time that the war was already lost, but 1 stubbornly refused to accept the fact. My father had distinguished himself in the First World War, my brother had fallen in Stalingrad, my friend had had both legs shot away and my cousin had been killed in an air raid. With every week that passed I lost another friend and I simply saw it as my duty to travel the path so many others have traveled whether they had wanted to or not.

I was warned, condoned with and laughed at but from the first moment my mind was made up. I would embark on U-1230. However, it was only at this juncture that I learned the exact details of my mission. My superiors wanted to know whether the Allies intended to drop atomic bombs on Berlin, Munich, Hamburg, Breslau and Cologne or whether they planned to go on using only the `ordinary' high-explosive bombs. I was given instructions in the theory of atomic physics. A specter was taking shape which was filling us with horror, and I was told that I, Agent 146, radio-engineer Erich Gimpel -- was the only man who could meet the threat. I was a hero in anticipation and I quickly accustomed myself to the role.

Spy for Germany

Chapter 3: Training as a Spy in Germany (KTB # 151)
Chapter 4: Spain and My First Mission (KTB # 152)
Chapter 5: A Plan to Blow Up the Panama Canal (KTB # 153)
Chapter 6: (I) The Start of a Grim Adventure (KTB # 154)
Chapter 6: (II) Operation Pastrius (KTB # 155)
Chapter 7: To America by Submarine (KTB # 156)
Chapter 8: The Landing in America (KTB # 157)
Chapter 9: Tricked by Billy in NYC (KTB # 158)
Chapter 10 (I): I Work Out My Own Situation (KTB # 159)
Chapter 10 (II): I Work Out My Own Situation (KTB # 160)
Chapter 11 (I): Billy Betrays Me to the F.B.I. (KTB # 161)
Chapter 11 (II): Billy Betrays Me to the F.B.I. (KTB # 162)
Chapter 12 (I): Love -- and then Arrest! (KTB # 163)
Chapter 12 (II): Love -- and then Arrest! (KTB # 164)
Chapter 13 (I): Grilled by the FBI (KTB # 165)
Chapter 13 (II): Grilled by the FBI (KTB # 166)
Chapter 13 (III): Grilled by the FBI (KTB # 167)
Chapter 14 (I): In the Shadow of the Hangman (KTB # 168)
Chapter 14 (II): In the Shadow of the Hangman (KTB # 169)
Chapter 15 (I): Sentenced to Death (KTB # 170)
Chapter 15 (II): Sentenced to Death (KTB # 172)
Chapter 15 (III): Sentenced to Death (KTB # 173)
Chapter 16 (I): Sized Up by the Hangman (KTB # 174)
Chapter 16 (II): Sized Up by the Hangman (KTB # 175)
Chapter 16 (III): Sized Up by the Hangman (KTB # 176)
Chapter 17 (I): Germany's Capitulation Saves My Life (KTB # 177)
Chapter 17 (II): Germany's Capitulation Saves My Life (KTB # 178)
Chapter 18: The Final Chapter (KTB # 179)