Chapter III: Part XVI
Chapter III: The Lion’s Den
Part XVI
September 1, 1936
Carnaval Framezelle - Bonbons et Amusement - 16 Septembre
The red-and-blue striped banner with proud gold lettering hung splendidly from the great circus tent that dominated the little seaside town. Two more, just like it but slightly smaller, had been erected to its right and left. On a low hill, scaffolding still surrounded a great ferris wheel that overlooked the water. Near the beach, a fire eater could be seen practicing his act as a multitude of smaller tents were set up. Workers unloaded crates from a truck and began unpacking them -- colorfully painted carousel horses. Behind them, the bare carousel was functional and rotating slowly as lively calliope music drifted out over the pavilions. Stands and stalls were being assembled and painted, and bales of hay stacked many meters high.
Strolling the emerging promenade in a white summer suit, Field Marshal Werner von Blomberg stepped down the walkway that led to the entrance to the largest tent. A workman in overalls pulled aside a small tent-flap and let him in.
He was met by the sight of four huge battleship guns. Although the tent sat on a low hill, the hilltop had been excavated extensively and formed a deep concrete-lined pit which now housed four 406 mm “Dover Guns” -- so named for their ability to deliver accurate fire onto the English port that lay just across the Channel from Framezelle. Scores of workman were now laboring to complete the reinforced steel framework for the single turret that mounted them. Known as the Martin Bormann battery, they would soon be encased in a giant movable steel-and-concrete cupola capable of traversing 30 degrees, or enough to shell along the Kentish coast from Folkestone to Deal. The engineers building the battery had saved the sod from the grassy hill and would lay it back over the cupola when construction was completed. Engineers had run a mockup along the Pomeranian coast and found the disguise quite effective. It was hoped that the battery would be virtually invisible to enemy observers or reconnaissance planes until it opened fire.
von Blomberg stepped back outside, and found Germany’s intelligence chief admiring the tent fabric. Canaris, looking decidedly more at home in his white suit and straw hat, stood puffing a pipe. “I have just returned from batteries Horst Wessel and Field Marshal von Mackensen, and both are coming along quickly.”
The series of batteries had been named after individuals whom the Reich wished to lionize in death: Martin Bormann, Hitler’s secretary who had been killed in the Berghof attack; Horst Wessel, the young stormtrooper martyred by communists; and August von Mackensen. von Mackensen, last of the Kaiser’s field marshals, had died on August ninth at his home in Burghorn after a long illness related to his stroke earlier in the year. Although he had allegedly become less supportive of the Nazis in the wake of the bloody Night of the Long Knives two years before, Hitler wished to co-opt his legacy for the National Socialist government. “He was one of the earliest and truest supporters,” the Völkischer Beobachter had crowed in his obituary a week later. And so, whether the old soldier liked it or not, Batterie Generalfeldmarschall von Mackensen would unleash its three 280 mm naval guns at the time and target of the Führer’s choosing. Batterie Horst Wessel, identical in every way, would do the same.
Hearing no response from von Blomberg, Canaris changed the subject. “You know, that tune is the Washington Post march. The whole carousel set is from Chicago.”
“Good.”
“I had thought that you would have been gladder to be rid of that job.”
“It’s never over. Bayerlein still wants me on until the -- until the big day. Just as a consultant, of course.”
“But surely the weight of ultimate responsibility was a relief once lifted.”
The former War Minister laughed grimly. “You have no idea how I counted the days and hours until 0000 September 1.” It had been at that moment, some ten hours before, that HKK had assumed full control of the Wehrmacht from the War Ministry transition staff. Bayerlein had confided that he expected the invasion of the Netherlands to be a sore test of his new command’s capabilities.
“You know,” Canaris said, “I think we will all come to regard the day of Löwengrube with a certain dread. The demands of secrecy are so great that accomplishing all that must be accomplished may prove impossible.”
von Blomberg grunted agreement as they walked down onto the beach alone.
“Even this assortment of tents took more planning and care than some would have lavished on the whole operation.” From what he had told von Blomberg, Canaris had indeed planned the deception magnificently. Over the summer, seven carnivals had been held throughout France, intended to lower suspicion when one showed up in Framezelle in late August. This particular carnival had run first as Carnavale L’Estaque near Marseille in July, then spent August in the capital as Carnavale Paris. Any inquirer curious about the sudden appearance of a carnival near Calais would find that Parisian dust still lingered in the tent fabric after an event that had drawn thousands of verifiable attendees.
They had then made such a conspicuous fuss about constructing Carnavale Framezelle that it was thought that the British couldn’t possibly think that anything secret was going on. All through the day and night, the lively sounds of the camp and the uninhibited racket of construction were exactingly simulated. And if the British did become suspicious, there was a further mask. At the same time, construction had been taking place during the dead of night on a second ring of antiaircraft batteries on nearby Cap Gris-Nez -- with the aim both of distracting British intelligence scrutiny and making the carnival seem like only a cover for their installation. The Abwehr had taken pains to let the occasional light become visible or strange sound be heard before being muffled. German observers had clearly seen the glint of telescopes near Dover inspecting the finished work in the morning light. The British had bought the illusion.
All they needed was another two weeks, and a few days before the carnival was set to open, the Abwehr would set part of the site on fire in what would be made to look like an act of sabotage by French partisans. It would be all too natural, then, for the occupation authorities to cancel the festivities and hope that the British forgot about them.
von Blomberg sighed. “I heard...”
“What?”
“I heard that Bayerlein received the operational plan this morning from the Führer.”
“That’s not true.”
Canaris had said it so bluntly that the former War Minister was taken aback. “How do you know?”
“I wrote the order myself, and it’s still far from an operational plan.”
“Then what is it?” A distant siren made both men jump, but they knew that this was a drill. The British had stopped daylight air raids on the French coast more than a month before.
“All it is is a brief outline -- a menu, almost -- of general courses of action, which Hitler agreed to in principle.”
“Ah. Is there a date yet?”
“The order has given for the invasion a preliminary start date of March first, 1937. That, of course, can and probably will change.”
von Blomberg pursed his lips. He was a land soldier through and through, but in his time as War Minister had forced himself to gain a certain familiarity with those things which concerned the navy as well. “How will the weather be then?”
“Strictly speaking, July and August are the best months for an invasion, with reasonably good weather thereafter that noticeably worsens by the end of October. Although periods of fair weather persist until almost Christmas, they are few and far between. January and February are certainly the worst months, with March and April generally good, while May and June are calm but prone to rain and fog.”
“Speaking as an admiral, will the Kriegsmarine be up to the task?”
“‘Will’ is a demonic little word, you know. But I do know that these batteries and the rail guns that will follow will go a long way towards owning the Channel when the time comes.”
“But, I mean, logistically... We are already to almost four fifths the required shipping, at least on paper, but have we been missing something?”
Here Canaris demurred. He took several paces ahead, his leather shoes leaving deep prints in the wet sand. von Blomberg managed to catch up.
“What of Italian assets? Has Mussolini offered anything?”
“He hasn’t even heard of the invasion -- and Hitler probably won’t tell him until it’s very nearly off. You know that.”
“I suppose so.”
Europe and North Africa, September 1, 1936. Pact of Steel nations gray, Allied nations blue, Comintern nations red.
“But what I’m trying to say is that I have enough knowledge of the sea to know that I am out of my depth, so to speak. Bayerlein is a foot soldier from Bavaria -- no better off at all.”
“Well,” Canaris said, “the more the Royal Navy focuses on the Mediterranean, even if they slaughter the Italians there, frankly the better for us here. In that sense, it is not complex. In addition the Home Fleet is down one carrier for some time.” He smiled softly.
In June, von Blomberg knew, the HMS Eagle had suffered a terrible accident in Hong Kong. According to the British press, one of her planes had crashed through the deck, starting a large fire which soon set off secondary explosions in her hangars. The stern third of the ship had been gutted and the boilers wrecked. After preliminary repairs in Singapore, she had been towed to Scotland for more extensive repairs at the John Brown and Company dockyards, to be replaced on station in the Far East by the much-inferior HMS Argus. The Eagle would not see service for many months, though, perhaps long enough to be of no effect during the invasion. It was truly a stroke of Providence.
“Might we,” von Blomberg asked, “be able to dilute the Home Fleet any further?”
“According to the order, it is also to be considered highly desirable if the British can be made to deploy troops to Northern Ireland. There are a number of potential operations outlined whereby religious or nationalist tensions may be inflamed there, and the more men that can be tied down, the better. Further, any such operation would divert more Royal Navy units to the Irish Sea.
“Will the U-boat arm at last be deployed?”
“No. Our submarines are much weaker than they were in the last war, relative to enemy destroyers. As such, they will continue to be held in defensive reserve. Furthermore, the Führer has judged that sinking too many ships in these waters will only draw British ships out of the Mediterranean, which is the last thing we want. So the submarines wait and the cruisers wait and the pocket battleships wait. We all wait.”
“The pocket battleships still wait?” von Blomberg had sincerely hoped that this latest order might have finally freed that restriction.
“Yes.”
“But as you well know -- better than I do -- both Abwehr and Kriegsmarine intelligence have heard the rumblings about a full British blockade by winter. Captain Patzig is desperate to sortie by then. He has told me as much in person.”
“Me too. And quite sensibly, Raeder will have none of it. He knows that the threat implied by Graf Spee is crucial to the success of Löwengrube. It ties down four or five times its own strength in British naval units.”
“Of course, of course. Merchant raiders?”
“Perhaps after the invasion, depending on how things turn out. Right now, there is not a single eligible ship not being converted into either a transport or a minelayer.”
They had come to the line that was patrolled by inconspicuously-attired guards, and turned back, walking up the beach in the other direction. “Still... What do you judge the odds of blockade?”
“Fair to Good.” Thus far, the Royal Navy had adopted a policy of limited interdiction. Neutral vessels found not to be carrying contraband were still being allowed through to German ports. It seemed that the British feared provoking the Kriegsmarine into initiating unrestricted submarine warfare. “But in any event, not for awhile. They are presently following Admiral Chatfield’s plan to decisively win the Mediterranean before the battleships Conte di Cavour and Giulio Cesare can come back into service sometime early next year.”
“So where in this is your grand magician’s hand-wave to fatally deceive them?”
“The essence, insofar as it concerns you and HKK, is to simply maintain the Mediterranean as a priority. The deception carries itself out based on Britain’s peculiar biases and hoped-for reality. I am only pained that Operation Gewürz will attract so much attention northward, but it is being timed to coincide with a major Italian thrust toward Cairo. I am confident that the British would sooner preserve the latter interest than that of a country which has snubbed them for the past twenty years.”
“Egypt... Are the enemy reports about Alexandria completely true?”
The Spymaster’s face was unreadable. “Hitler is convinced that Britain’s weakness lies in her Empire. Hence our ongoing efforts to sow unrest in the Near East, and soon in India as well. Professor Heidegger has edited a report at our request which suggests some interesting avenues for inciting tensions between Mohammedans and Hindus in India. The enemy has every incentive to counteract our efforts with deceptions of their own.”
They had surmounted a bluff that looked out across the Channel toward Dover. The long line of famous white cliffs was visible above the horizon. von Blomberg’s task was far from over. Hitler intended to conduct operations throughout the winter to secure the capitulation of Denmark and possibly Norway as well, with the intent of obtaining secure naval bases from which to penetrate the North Sea and into the Atlantic. Hopefully, Bayerlein would grant him a significant role in that campaign. It would provide HKK with invaluable experience in complex sea-based operations and amphibious warfare. Would he be given command? It had almost seemed that the inscrutable admiral knew something about him which he wasn’t saying.
He looked intently at the man. To all appearances, he was an elderly beachgoer, staring admiringly into the azure sea. von Blomberg opened his mouth as if to ask Wilhelm Canaris whether it was he who had saved him from the Sicherheitsdienst, but the question caught in his throat. Without a word, the Admiral turned toward the grand, many-colored circus tent and the two men started up the sandy path that would take them back to Berlin.
Chapter III: The Lion’s Den
Part XVI
September 1, 1936
Carnaval Framezelle - Bonbons et Amusement - 16 Septembre
The red-and-blue striped banner with proud gold lettering hung splendidly from the great circus tent that dominated the little seaside town. Two more, just like it but slightly smaller, had been erected to its right and left. On a low hill, scaffolding still surrounded a great ferris wheel that overlooked the water. Near the beach, a fire eater could be seen practicing his act as a multitude of smaller tents were set up. Workers unloaded crates from a truck and began unpacking them -- colorfully painted carousel horses. Behind them, the bare carousel was functional and rotating slowly as lively calliope music drifted out over the pavilions. Stands and stalls were being assembled and painted, and bales of hay stacked many meters high.
Strolling the emerging promenade in a white summer suit, Field Marshal Werner von Blomberg stepped down the walkway that led to the entrance to the largest tent. A workman in overalls pulled aside a small tent-flap and let him in.
He was met by the sight of four huge battleship guns. Although the tent sat on a low hill, the hilltop had been excavated extensively and formed a deep concrete-lined pit which now housed four 406 mm “Dover Guns” -- so named for their ability to deliver accurate fire onto the English port that lay just across the Channel from Framezelle. Scores of workman were now laboring to complete the reinforced steel framework for the single turret that mounted them. Known as the Martin Bormann battery, they would soon be encased in a giant movable steel-and-concrete cupola capable of traversing 30 degrees, or enough to shell along the Kentish coast from Folkestone to Deal. The engineers building the battery had saved the sod from the grassy hill and would lay it back over the cupola when construction was completed. Engineers had run a mockup along the Pomeranian coast and found the disguise quite effective. It was hoped that the battery would be virtually invisible to enemy observers or reconnaissance planes until it opened fire.
von Blomberg stepped back outside, and found Germany’s intelligence chief admiring the tent fabric. Canaris, looking decidedly more at home in his white suit and straw hat, stood puffing a pipe. “I have just returned from batteries Horst Wessel and Field Marshal von Mackensen, and both are coming along quickly.”
The series of batteries had been named after individuals whom the Reich wished to lionize in death: Martin Bormann, Hitler’s secretary who had been killed in the Berghof attack; Horst Wessel, the young stormtrooper martyred by communists; and August von Mackensen. von Mackensen, last of the Kaiser’s field marshals, had died on August ninth at his home in Burghorn after a long illness related to his stroke earlier in the year. Although he had allegedly become less supportive of the Nazis in the wake of the bloody Night of the Long Knives two years before, Hitler wished to co-opt his legacy for the National Socialist government. “He was one of the earliest and truest supporters,” the Völkischer Beobachter had crowed in his obituary a week later. And so, whether the old soldier liked it or not, Batterie Generalfeldmarschall von Mackensen would unleash its three 280 mm naval guns at the time and target of the Führer’s choosing. Batterie Horst Wessel, identical in every way, would do the same.
Hearing no response from von Blomberg, Canaris changed the subject. “You know, that tune is the Washington Post march. The whole carousel set is from Chicago.”
“Good.”
“I had thought that you would have been gladder to be rid of that job.”
“It’s never over. Bayerlein still wants me on until the -- until the big day. Just as a consultant, of course.”
“But surely the weight of ultimate responsibility was a relief once lifted.”
The former War Minister laughed grimly. “You have no idea how I counted the days and hours until 0000 September 1.” It had been at that moment, some ten hours before, that HKK had assumed full control of the Wehrmacht from the War Ministry transition staff. Bayerlein had confided that he expected the invasion of the Netherlands to be a sore test of his new command’s capabilities.
“You know,” Canaris said, “I think we will all come to regard the day of Löwengrube with a certain dread. The demands of secrecy are so great that accomplishing all that must be accomplished may prove impossible.”
von Blomberg grunted agreement as they walked down onto the beach alone.
“Even this assortment of tents took more planning and care than some would have lavished on the whole operation.” From what he had told von Blomberg, Canaris had indeed planned the deception magnificently. Over the summer, seven carnivals had been held throughout France, intended to lower suspicion when one showed up in Framezelle in late August. This particular carnival had run first as Carnavale L’Estaque near Marseille in July, then spent August in the capital as Carnavale Paris. Any inquirer curious about the sudden appearance of a carnival near Calais would find that Parisian dust still lingered in the tent fabric after an event that had drawn thousands of verifiable attendees.
They had then made such a conspicuous fuss about constructing Carnavale Framezelle that it was thought that the British couldn’t possibly think that anything secret was going on. All through the day and night, the lively sounds of the camp and the uninhibited racket of construction were exactingly simulated. And if the British did become suspicious, there was a further mask. At the same time, construction had been taking place during the dead of night on a second ring of antiaircraft batteries on nearby Cap Gris-Nez -- with the aim both of distracting British intelligence scrutiny and making the carnival seem like only a cover for their installation. The Abwehr had taken pains to let the occasional light become visible or strange sound be heard before being muffled. German observers had clearly seen the glint of telescopes near Dover inspecting the finished work in the morning light. The British had bought the illusion.
All they needed was another two weeks, and a few days before the carnival was set to open, the Abwehr would set part of the site on fire in what would be made to look like an act of sabotage by French partisans. It would be all too natural, then, for the occupation authorities to cancel the festivities and hope that the British forgot about them.
von Blomberg sighed. “I heard...”
“What?”
“I heard that Bayerlein received the operational plan this morning from the Führer.”
“That’s not true.”
Canaris had said it so bluntly that the former War Minister was taken aback. “How do you know?”
“I wrote the order myself, and it’s still far from an operational plan.”
“Then what is it?” A distant siren made both men jump, but they knew that this was a drill. The British had stopped daylight air raids on the French coast more than a month before.
“All it is is a brief outline -- a menu, almost -- of general courses of action, which Hitler agreed to in principle.”
“Ah. Is there a date yet?”
“The order has given for the invasion a preliminary start date of March first, 1937. That, of course, can and probably will change.”
von Blomberg pursed his lips. He was a land soldier through and through, but in his time as War Minister had forced himself to gain a certain familiarity with those things which concerned the navy as well. “How will the weather be then?”
“Strictly speaking, July and August are the best months for an invasion, with reasonably good weather thereafter that noticeably worsens by the end of October. Although periods of fair weather persist until almost Christmas, they are few and far between. January and February are certainly the worst months, with March and April generally good, while May and June are calm but prone to rain and fog.”
“Speaking as an admiral, will the Kriegsmarine be up to the task?”
“‘Will’ is a demonic little word, you know. But I do know that these batteries and the rail guns that will follow will go a long way towards owning the Channel when the time comes.”
“But, I mean, logistically... We are already to almost four fifths the required shipping, at least on paper, but have we been missing something?”
Here Canaris demurred. He took several paces ahead, his leather shoes leaving deep prints in the wet sand. von Blomberg managed to catch up.
“What of Italian assets? Has Mussolini offered anything?”
“He hasn’t even heard of the invasion -- and Hitler probably won’t tell him until it’s very nearly off. You know that.”
“I suppose so.”
Europe and North Africa, September 1, 1936. Pact of Steel nations gray, Allied nations blue, Comintern nations red.
“But what I’m trying to say is that I have enough knowledge of the sea to know that I am out of my depth, so to speak. Bayerlein is a foot soldier from Bavaria -- no better off at all.”
“Well,” Canaris said, “the more the Royal Navy focuses on the Mediterranean, even if they slaughter the Italians there, frankly the better for us here. In that sense, it is not complex. In addition the Home Fleet is down one carrier for some time.” He smiled softly.
In June, von Blomberg knew, the HMS Eagle had suffered a terrible accident in Hong Kong. According to the British press, one of her planes had crashed through the deck, starting a large fire which soon set off secondary explosions in her hangars. The stern third of the ship had been gutted and the boilers wrecked. After preliminary repairs in Singapore, she had been towed to Scotland for more extensive repairs at the John Brown and Company dockyards, to be replaced on station in the Far East by the much-inferior HMS Argus. The Eagle would not see service for many months, though, perhaps long enough to be of no effect during the invasion. It was truly a stroke of Providence.
“Might we,” von Blomberg asked, “be able to dilute the Home Fleet any further?”
“According to the order, it is also to be considered highly desirable if the British can be made to deploy troops to Northern Ireland. There are a number of potential operations outlined whereby religious or nationalist tensions may be inflamed there, and the more men that can be tied down, the better. Further, any such operation would divert more Royal Navy units to the Irish Sea.
“Will the U-boat arm at last be deployed?”
“No. Our submarines are much weaker than they were in the last war, relative to enemy destroyers. As such, they will continue to be held in defensive reserve. Furthermore, the Führer has judged that sinking too many ships in these waters will only draw British ships out of the Mediterranean, which is the last thing we want. So the submarines wait and the cruisers wait and the pocket battleships wait. We all wait.”
“The pocket battleships still wait?” von Blomberg had sincerely hoped that this latest order might have finally freed that restriction.
“Yes.”
“But as you well know -- better than I do -- both Abwehr and Kriegsmarine intelligence have heard the rumblings about a full British blockade by winter. Captain Patzig is desperate to sortie by then. He has told me as much in person.”
“Me too. And quite sensibly, Raeder will have none of it. He knows that the threat implied by Graf Spee is crucial to the success of Löwengrube. It ties down four or five times its own strength in British naval units.”
“Of course, of course. Merchant raiders?”
“Perhaps after the invasion, depending on how things turn out. Right now, there is not a single eligible ship not being converted into either a transport or a minelayer.”
They had come to the line that was patrolled by inconspicuously-attired guards, and turned back, walking up the beach in the other direction. “Still... What do you judge the odds of blockade?”
“Fair to Good.” Thus far, the Royal Navy had adopted a policy of limited interdiction. Neutral vessels found not to be carrying contraband were still being allowed through to German ports. It seemed that the British feared provoking the Kriegsmarine into initiating unrestricted submarine warfare. “But in any event, not for awhile. They are presently following Admiral Chatfield’s plan to decisively win the Mediterranean before the battleships Conte di Cavour and Giulio Cesare can come back into service sometime early next year.”
“So where in this is your grand magician’s hand-wave to fatally deceive them?”
“The essence, insofar as it concerns you and HKK, is to simply maintain the Mediterranean as a priority. The deception carries itself out based on Britain’s peculiar biases and hoped-for reality. I am only pained that Operation Gewürz will attract so much attention northward, but it is being timed to coincide with a major Italian thrust toward Cairo. I am confident that the British would sooner preserve the latter interest than that of a country which has snubbed them for the past twenty years.”
“Egypt... Are the enemy reports about Alexandria completely true?”
The Spymaster’s face was unreadable. “Hitler is convinced that Britain’s weakness lies in her Empire. Hence our ongoing efforts to sow unrest in the Near East, and soon in India as well. Professor Heidegger has edited a report at our request which suggests some interesting avenues for inciting tensions between Mohammedans and Hindus in India. The enemy has every incentive to counteract our efforts with deceptions of their own.”
They had surmounted a bluff that looked out across the Channel toward Dover. The long line of famous white cliffs was visible above the horizon. von Blomberg’s task was far from over. Hitler intended to conduct operations throughout the winter to secure the capitulation of Denmark and possibly Norway as well, with the intent of obtaining secure naval bases from which to penetrate the North Sea and into the Atlantic. Hopefully, Bayerlein would grant him a significant role in that campaign. It would provide HKK with invaluable experience in complex sea-based operations and amphibious warfare. Would he be given command? It had almost seemed that the inscrutable admiral knew something about him which he wasn’t saying.
He looked intently at the man. To all appearances, he was an elderly beachgoer, staring admiringly into the azure sea. von Blomberg opened his mouth as if to ask Wilhelm Canaris whether it was he who had saved him from the Sicherheitsdienst, but the question caught in his throat. Without a word, the Admiral turned toward the grand, many-colored circus tent and the two men started up the sandy path that would take them back to Berlin.
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