The 34th Degree

16

H itler was standing in front of the large picture window, looking out at the hills of Salzburg while he addressed his generals, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing the field-gray military uniform. At the sound of von Berg’s footsteps, he turned sharply with a frown that quickly became a smile.

“Von Berg, at last!” he said, walking over and warmly clasping von Berg’s hand with both of his own.

“ Guten Tag, Chief,” replied von Berg, dispensing with the ingratiating “Heil Hitler” of outsiders.

“I see the rumors of your death are greatly exaggerated. Please sit down.”

Von Berg nodded and looked at the disappointed faces of the four men seated around the long map table. They were General Alfred Jodl, chief of staff of the Armed Forces High Command; Admiral Karl Doenitz, commander in chief of the naval staff; Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, chief of military intelligence; and, finally, von Berg’s boss, Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler, chief of both the state and the secret police, looking paler than usual, von Berg thought, as he took his seat next to the devil and smiled.

“As I was saying,” Hitler continued, “now that Rommel’s overrated Afrika Korps have disgraced us with their defeat in Tunisia, the Allies hold the whole North African coast, with General Eisenhower’s army at the western end of the Mediterranean and General Montgomery’s army at the eastern end. That the Allies will use their new position to launch an invasion into our Fortress Europe there can be no doubt. Our entire southern front is exposed from France in the west to Greece in the east. The only thing between us and them is the moat that is the Mediterranean.”

At this everybody nodded, Admiral Doenitz in particular, acknowledging that the Mediterranean was his fleet’s responsibility to defend.

“But where will they land?” asked Hitler. “That is the question, and we must know the answer if we are to crush their armies on the beaches. I shall hear reports from our two intelligence chiefs. Canaris, you first.”

Admiral Canaris nodded to an SS orderly, and the curtains were drawn and the lights dimmed. Two tapestries at opposite ends of the room lifted to reveal a projector on one wall and a movie screen on the other. Below the screen sat a large chest with built-in speakers and a large bronze bust of Richard Wagner on top. The film began by showing a funeral procession that von Berg recognized as Catholic.

“This footage was taken by one of our agents in Spain,” said Canaris, narrating. “Two weeks ago the body of a British courier, a certain Major Martin of the Royal Marines, washed up on the shores near Huelva. Apparently, his plane was shot down over the Mediterranean. He was carrying two letters from the Imperial General Staff in London to General Alexander and Admiral Cunningham in Tunisia. Abwehr agents managed to photograph the contents of the letters before the British authorities claimed the corpse from the coroner.”

These men will believe anything, thought von Berg, as his former master proceeded.

“A careful analysis of those letters reveals the Allies are going to attack Sardinia and Greece,” Canaris explained. “The British Eighth Army, under General Montgomery, and the American Seventh Army, under General Patton, will strike Sardinia from their positions in Tunisia. But that will be a diversionary blow. We believe that the main target of the operation will be an invasion of Greece.”

A map of Greece appeared on the screen, complete with animated arrows that pinpointed where the enemy would strike.

“From their positions in the Middle East, two divisions of General Wilson’s Ninth Army are detailed for landings on the west coast of Greece. The Fifty-sixth Infantry Division will land near Kalamata, and the Fifth Infantry Division will land on the stretch of coast south of Cape Araxos. We expect them to be joined by Montgomery’s Eighth Army and Patton’s Seventh Army for the advance up the Greek mainland.”

Von Berg watched Hitler’s eyes glaze over as Canaris continued his narration.

“At the same time, we must reckon with the probability that Wilson’s other divisions-how many he has, we don’t really know-will invade the east coast of Greece, taking the Dodecanese islands in the process. The code name for this operation, according to the documents found with Major Martin, is Husky. Lights.”

Curtains were pulled back, and Hitler asked for comments.

Himmler cleared his throat. “As the Fuhrer is aware,” he began, “SS agents in Istanbul recently intercepted their own Allied communique, one that contained a secret microfilm.”

“Yes, yes,” said Hitler, eyes widening with interest. “Go on, Reichsfuhrer.”

“That microfilm confirms the Abwehr’s analysis that the Allied forces now gathering in Palestine, Egypt, and Libya are intended for Greece. Increased partisan activity in Greece provides further proof, including a rising number of supply drops to the Greek Resistance by American and British aircraft.”

Hitler said, “Von Berg, you’ve just come from Greece. Is what the Reichsfuhrer says true?”

“It is true, but…

“But what?” Hitler asked expectantly.

“I am troubled that documents as vital as these should so conveniently fall into the hands of the German High Command.”

Canaris responded quickly. “If you are suggesting, General von Berg, that Major Martin is a plant to dupe us, I can assure you that the general staff has considered this possibility and concluded that he is genuine and his documents above suspicion.”

Hitler looked to Himmler, who said nothing, then back to von Berg. “You are not convinced?”

“The Allies simply want us to spread our coastal defenses thinly rather than concentrate them on their intended point of entry-Sicily.”

Canaris shook his head. “Any attack on Sicily or one of the Italian islands will be diversionary.”

“That’s what they want us to believe, Admiral,” said von Berg. “It is Greece that is the cover. Allow me to introduce my own intercepted communique. Nothing less than the Anglo-American invasion plans, complete with changes made by General Montgomery himself.”

Himmler frowned as von Berg opened his briefcase and produced a copy of a U.S. military report. There were glances across the table and immediate interest as von Berg passed the report to Hitler. Von Berg then stood up and looked down at the map.

“Gentlemen, may I present to you the real Operation Husky-the Allied invasion of Sicily.” Von Berg found a pointer and traced the routes of the invasion forces. “The assault begins with a landing by night by the American Eighty-second and British First Airborne Divisions, followed by a landing of eight seaborne divisions simultaneously-four American, four British.”

There were murmurs across the table.

“Ten divisions!” exclaimed Doenitz.

Canaris said, “That’s twice as many as we’ve got in all of Sicily.”

“All the same,” von Berg insisted, “the American Seventh Army, under General Patton, will race up the west coast of the island. The British Eighth Army, under General Montgomery, will race up the east coast. Together they will converge at Messina. From there they will cross the channel and invade Italy.” He sat down.

“Italy!” cried Canaris. “I think you’re gravely mistaken, von Berg.”

The room grew very quiet as an angry Hitler slapped his hands on the table, rose to his feet, and began to pace the floor. “There are two possibilities,” he said. “Either this Major Martin is a plant, or this report from General Montgomery is a plant. Both can’t be correct. Either the Allies are invading Greece, or they are invading Italy by way of Sicily. Now, if my intelligence chiefs can’t agree on anything, perhaps my military chiefs can.” Hitler turned to Doenitz. “You have just seen the Duce, Admiral. What are his views on Anglo-American intentions?”

“Mussolini, Kesselring, and the Italian High Command all feel the Allies’ next move from North Africa will be a jump into Sicily and then an advance up the boot of Italy.”

Hitler turned to General Jodl. “And you, Jodl?”

The former Bavarian artillery officer stood over the map table. With the pointer, he tapped Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica. “Even if the Allies captured all three Italian islands, it is unlikely they would invade Italy herself, as von Berg suggests, because in Italy our reactions would be swift and strong. In Greece, however, our reinforcements and supplies would be slow.”

Jodl drew an imaginary line from the Middle East to the southern tip of Greece. “An invasion of Greece by General Wilson’s army in the Middle East poses the greater danger, because it threatens to interrupt not only our supplies of bauxite, copper, and chrome from the Balkans but also oil from Romania’s fields at Ploesti.”

“Yes, yes.” Hitler nodded enthusiastically. “I tell you, this is what I dread. This is what we cannot allow to happen.”

“Furthermore, if the Allies invade Greece, it is probable they would use it as a springboard to advance up the Balkans through the historic Vardar Valley route used by the British and French in the Great War.” Jodl drew an imaginary line from Salonika in northern Greece up through Belgrade, Budapest, Vienna, Prague, and finally, with a loud tap, Berlin.

The impact was not lost on Hitler, who seemed visibly shaken at the thought of history repeating itself. “Yes,” he finally concluded, “Sicily is too heavily defended to be taken easily.”

After composing himself, Hitler began to speak in the third person, something he often did when issuing formal orders. “The Fuhrer does not agree with the Baron nor the Duce that the most likely invasion point is Sicily. Furthermore, he believes that the Anglo-Saxon order discovered by Abwehr agents is genuine and confirms the assumption that the planned attack will be directed mainly against Greece.” He paced back and forth. “The Fuhrer prepares the following order: ‘The First German Panzer Division will be sent to Greece, to support the three German infantry divisions and the Italian Eleventh Army there.’”

“But the First Panzer Division is in France!” von Berg protested. “You’re going to pull a complete panzer division out of the war and transport it all the way across Europe to Greece?”

“The First German Panzer Division will establish its headquarters at the Greek town of Tripolis,” Hitler went on sharply, ignoring von Berg. “It is ideally situated in the Peloponnese to command resistance against any Allied landings at Kalamata and Araxos. Now, all of you, leave me. I need a few minutes with General von Berg and the Reichsfuhrer.”

They all left the room-Jodl, Doenitz, and, finally, Canaris. When they were gone, Hitler glared at von Berg.

“It is enough that my political and military intelligence services are at odds; that much I expected. But dissension within the SS? Von Berg, I asked you for a simple text, and you bring me this-this obvious forgery.” He looked at the report and gave it to Himmler. “Montgomery’s handwriting, indeed. How much of a fool do they think I am?”

“Clearly, the Baron was premature in introducing this analysis without my approval,” said Himmler. “My staff shall look into the report more thoroughly before making any formal recommendations.”

Von Berg knew that would be the last he would ever see of the report. He also knew that Hitler’s hunch about Greece had less to do with General Jodl’s cool logic than with his own heated passion about the Maranatha text.

“Tell me what happened in Greece,” said Hitler. “The Reichsfuhrer, for some reason, thought you may not appear here at all.”

Von Berg glanced at Himmler, still lacking color, as well he should. The bastard probably had a communique in his pocket ready to produce at the right moment, informing Hitler that his favorite underling had been killed in Greece by mad monks. Nevertheless, von Berg would not reveal that he had actually obtained the Maranatha text. Who knew where that would send Hitler?

“A tragedy. That’s what it was,” von Berg said. “Those religious fanatics burned themselves and gutted the entire monastery in the process.”

Hitler asked, “And the Maranatha text?”

“Not to be found.” Von Berg looked at Himmler. “Unfortunately, Reichsfuhrer, we also lost Colonel Ulrich. Were it not for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before you.”

“Nonsense, you have good luck,” insisted Hitler. “Even when surrounded by fools, fate spared you now, as it has before. You were failed by your protectors, just as I am.”

He was referring to rumors and recent attempts on his life. Von Berg, however, not wishing to provoke Himmler just yet, spoke in Ulrich’s defense. “To the contrary, my Fuhrer, I recommend a Knight’s Cross for the Standartenfuhrer, awarded posthumously. His actions were most noble. Tragic he should die at the hands of religious fanatics, but it was not in vain.”

He snapped his fingers, and two SS orderlies walked in with a heavy object draped with a white cloth. “A gift for the Fuhrer. From the Monastery of the Taborian Light in Meteora.”

The orderlies snapped the canvas away to reveal the great golden Templar Globe.

Hitler stood back, surprised and awed. He walked over and closely examined it, a bit fearful. “Striking,” said the Fuhrer. “This was taken from the Zu den drei Weltkugeln?”

“From the Lodge of the Three Globes, yes,” the Baron replied. “But it is far older than old Prussian Freemasonry. The monks in Greece believe it is one of three globes that once graced King Solomon’s Temple. Would you like it kept here or stored with the other icons?”

Hitler didn’t answer; he simply stared at the globe. “This is what I saw in my dreams. I am sure of it. Another sign, Reichsfuhrer.”

Von Berg was wary of whatever bizarre new tangent the Fuhrer was embarking on. Hitler’s physician, Dr. Karl Brandt, attributed his constant fatigue to stress. Von Berg would not have been so generous with his diagnosis. It was at Brandt’s urgings that Hitler set up his headquarters at Obersalzberg in March in the first place, allegedly for a three-month vacation. Now overwork and isolation had made him more exhausted and irritable than ever. This, more than anything, thought von Berg, would explain the fascination with miracle texts and a search for some divine deliverance.

“A sign?” von Berg repeated. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Come, I’ll tell you as we stroll to the Eagle’s Nest,” Hitler told him. “I have a surprise waiting for you there-Professor Xaptz.”

“Professor Xaptz?”

“A specialist in ancient Greek literature that the Reichsfuhrer has found. He has solved the riddle of the Maranatha text.”