Speer at Glucksburg, the Night Before His Arrest

Manni helped Speer back to his room. Speer sat down on his bed while Manni rummaged through a dresser and found a pair of pajamas for him. “Do you need help getting into them?” he asked.

Speer shook his head. “Sit down, Loerber. Let’s have a last drink,” he said pointing to a nearby chair. Manni sat down while Speer brought out a bottle of schnapps and two glasses from a bedside table. He poured some into each glass and handed one to Manni. He raised his glass to Manni. Manni did the same to him.

“Happy Days,” said Manni.

“Happy Days,” answered Speer.

They drank. Manni drained his glass and set it down. Speer held on to his almost-empty glass and looked hard at Manni. “Am I a fool, Loerber?” he asked.

“Herr Reichsminister?” asked Manni.

“I mean it, Loerber. Tell me the truth. Do you think I am a fool?”

Sitting in his chair, Manni brought himself respectfully to attention. “Yes, Herr Reichsminister, I do think you are a fool.”

“Please tell me why?”

"Herr Reichsminister, is there any point?”

“Just tell me the truth.”

“Because you expect the whole world to see it your way,” said Manni. “You think that all you have to do is explain it to them, factually, in a helpful, reasonable voice, and the world will lose track of what you’ve done. Because you act candid, you assume they’ll accept your explanation that all you were was just a talented technocrat doing his job, no different from all the other people just like you who are doing the same thing all over the world. You think your reason and your irony is enough to keep the shit from touching you when the fact is you’re already up to your ears in it.”

Manni thought for a second, then added, “But beyond that, of course, I think you’re a great guy to work for.”

“And that’s why you’re still here?” Speer asked.

“That’s right.”

“You’re a spy, aren’t you?” said Speer.

Manni Loerber smiled like he’d just been paid a compliment. “And when did you come to that conclusion?” he asked.

Speer slowly shook his head. “In the Ruhr,” he said.

“You knew back in March and you haven’t done anything about it until now? I feel good about that.”

“You are a spy,” said Speer again. “Who are you working for?”

Manni answered proudly. “Herr Reichsminister, it was my honor to serve His Majesty, the King of England.”

Speer didn’t say anything for a while. Then he quietly muttered, “I guess I ought to be relieved it wasn’t the Russians.”

“Well I wouldn’t be too relieved,” said Manni. “It is my unfortunate understanding that all the best information got siphoned off by Soviet counter-spies and sent to Moscow.”

Speer thought about it. “Either way, Germany died.”

“I gather the Allied prognosis was that it was necessary to kill Germany in order to save it,” answered Manni.

“And your prognosis, Herr Loerber?”

“I don’t have one,” answered Manni. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Speer smiled bitterly. “And I thought you were my friend. You betrayed me.”

Manni shook his head. “No Herr Reichsminister, it wasn’t betrayal.”

“It wasn’t? What was it?”

“It was serving two masters, Herr Reichsminister. And if I hadn’t served you well, we might have had this conversation sooner.”

Speer looked away, fuming with anger and humiliation.

Manni remained standing at attention. “Do you know what this is now?” he asked. “Herr Reichsminister, it is the end of the line. We are at the moment before the axe comes down. I heartily recommend you get some sleep. If you get up early enough, maybe you’ll get to eat breakfast before they come for you.”

Speer looked back up at Manni. “So what did the British pay you?” he asked bitterly.

“Thirty pieces of silver, what do you think? Listen, I’m a Jew, I’d have done it for free.”

“Suddenly everyone’s a Jew,” said Speer.

“I’m sorry,” offered Manni.

“Don’t be,” said Speer. “I’m sure I’m going to hell anyway.”

“Goodnight, Herr Reichsminister.” Manni turned to leave.

“So you’re a Jew?” asked Speer.

Facing Speer again, Manni smiled and gave a curt bow.

Speer shook his head angrily.

“If it’s any consolation, Herr Reichsminister, you almost succeeded in killing us off,” said Manni.

“So that’s what it is now?” said Speer. “You’re blaming me for that? You know I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Please, Herr Reichsminister,” said Manni. “Welcome to the rest of your life.”

“So what will become of me?” asked Speer.

“I don’t know,” said Manni. “I doubt they even know what they’re going to do. Ultimately these things tend to take on a life of their own.”

“Unless of course they just decide to kill me on the spot,” suggested Speer.

“That is always a possibility,” accepted Manni. “I don’t know anything other than it’s the Kibosh.”

“Kibosh?” asked Speer.

“It’s one of those American words,” said Manni.

“Ah,” said Speer.

“So what will become of you, Loerber?” asked Speer. “Will you go to London?”

Manni let out a short laugh. “I hope not,” he said. “I’d like to return to Berlin.”

“There’s not a lot there, you know,” Speer pointed out.

“Oh, I know,” answered Manni. “I’m not in that big a hurry. I’ve still got lots of friends in Hamburg. Some of them must be alive. I’m sure I’ll find something there.”

“So you’ve got it all figured,” said Speer.

“Only for the next day or so,” said Manni.

“I guess I should sleep,” said Speer.

“You’ll thank me in the morning, Herr Reichsminister.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” said Speer. “Do something for me, will you?”

“What?”

“There’s some reports on my desk on the left-hand pile. Bring them to Galbraith. I’d like him to see them. Do this for me, Loerber.”
(Another chapter left out of the published version of Germania, Simon & Schuster, 2008; Kindle copy available here).

Albert Speer Meets the Americans at Glucksburg

A week or so after the surrender, Albert Speer was visited by a group of American economists, bankers, and Wall Street lawyers dressed in US Army uniform. They were the directors of the United States Strategic Bombing Survey, or USSBS, who had come to ask Speer questions about the effectiveness of the American daylight precision bombing campaign on the German war economy. Speer, it turned out, was happy to answer their questions and the single meeting quickly turned into a ten-day, very collegial, "University of Bombing," with Professor Albert Speer presiding. The alcohol-fueled symposium took place outside of Flensburg at Schloss Glucksburg, where Speer was staying with his friend, dive-bomber ace, Werner Baumbach.

The following is an excerpt from my novel Germania, originally published in 2008 by Simon & Schuster, now newly available on Kindle (buy it here).

Albert Speer

He awoke late in the morning with a terrible hangover. Staggering through the hall down to the kitchens he debated whether he should call in sick or just show up the way he was, since it seemed that was the way everyone else was half the time.

As he was working his way through a cup of tea, he heard agitated footsteps running up the corridor toward him. He started to feel a sense of dread. It was the captain of the honor guard, which had been assigned to him for security.

“Herr Reichsminister, we have an emergency!”

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“What is it?"

“The American Army is here, demanding to see you.”

“What?”

“The Americans, your Excellency! There must be twenty of them. They’ve come in Jeeps.”

“In Jeeps? But what do they want? Are you sure they’re not looking for Himmler?”

“No, your Excellency. They say they want you. Reichsminister for War Production Albert Speer. Do you want my men to shoot at them?”

“No, absolutely not. Tell them to wait. I must get dressed first.”

He went back to his room and found his best gray suit. Then he selected a French tie and put it on. He took a glimpse in the mirror and thought to himself that he looked pretty good.

Schloss Glucksburg

The Americans were waiting for him in the courtyard. Twenty of them, just like the captain had said. They wore uniforms, but no helmets or guns.

Two very tall men stood together. One looked like a hawk, the other like an enormous owl. Next to them was a much shorter man who, by his sheer proximity to them, looked like a hedgehog.

“Good Morning, Herr Speer,” said the owl. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping in like this, but we were making everybody nervous at the Marineschule.” They grinned good-naturedly at Speer.

“We’ve flown in from Frankfurt this morning to interview you,” said the hawk. “Do you have some time to spare?”

John Kenneth Galbraith

“We should introduce ourselves,” said the hedgehog. He began pointing out the various army officers and sergeants and reciting their names though not their ranks. “This is George Sklarz, this is Burton Klein, Bob Gilchrist, Ernie Doyle, Walter Farley, Dan Watson.” He went on and on with the names. Speer tried to take it all in, but the names and faces were more than he could process, so he just nodded and smiled like the good host.

Finally the man pointed to his tall colleagues, “This is George Ball, this is Ken Galbraith and I’m Paul Nitze.”

Himmler Settling Accounts with Speer at Schloss Glucksburg

Cremer had chosen a roundabout route up to the Schloss, so they wouldn’t be noticed. Sixteen men in four open-roofed Navy kubels. Most had rifles, though one petty officer, in direct contravention of the articles of the surrender agreement, carried a machine gun. As for Cremer, in addition to his officer’s sidearm, he cradled in his hands a massive pistol which only fired signal flares.

"So here’s the plan, Ziggy,” he said. “According to your brother, Himmler and his bunch will show up at the castle sometime shortly after 10:30. By now Manni should already be hiding inside and we’re supposed to position ourselves at the southeast corner of the moat. There is an escape tunnel that comes out at the castle wall twenty meters up from the stone bridge. He’s going to bring Franzi out there and they’ll swim across the moat to where we’re waiting.”

Ziggy nodded and stared out at the gray and black mosaic of fields and woods. He didn’t like any of it.

Cremer went on. “Speer’s own security is a joke. But of course there will be Himmler’s boys and we already know what they’re like. Manni thinks we should be able to pull it off without getting into a gunfight with them. I guess as long as we’re on different sides of the moat it shouldn’t get out of hand. But he said that if anything else starts up, we should stay out of it, except for providing covering fire.”

"What do you think he meant by that?” asked Ziggy. “Who else could show up?”

Cremer shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

"Great,” said Ziggy.

They drove through a forest where everything was pitch black, slowing down to make a succession of turns. A minute later they emerged again and there was the castle, Schloss Glucksburg, standing silently at one end of a lake. White walls and four towers glowing faintly under the sliver of a moon. The lake was pitch black, returning no reflection, with only the dark grey ribbon of the stone bridge running over the water, connecting the castle with a forecourt on the opposite shore. Everything was completely still; not a leaf rustled, not a tree branch groaned, nor the sound of a wild animal going through the brush.

Schloss Glucksburg

They hid the kubels and spread out along the bank, keeping low to the grass. Someone handed Ziggy a pair of night binoculars and, propping himself on his elbows, he began examining the walls and the bridge and the spot where the secret passage was supposed to let out.

He lowered the glasses and exchanged a glance with Cremer. “Two minutes,” Cremer whispered.

Two minutes to what? wondered Ziggy.  Manni was playing his games again, manipulating things and people like they were billiard balls. Two minutes until something happens that is going to cause Himmler to decide to come here with Franzi in tow, right to the spot where Manni just happens to be waiting for them. Manni was an embodiment of the random and irreproducible. When they were kids, he could always figure out what Ziggy and the others were about to do, because, as he once explained to Ziggy, every seemingly spontaneous action was actually the confluence of established habits and patterns.

Then they heard explosions in the distance. Ten times louder than thunder; high explosive, a lot of it. They saw a flash in the northeast, followed by the crackle of smaller ordinance going off. For a second the thought went through his mind that something had gone wrong and it was all over. But then he realized he could sense Franzi at that moment, inside a car, cold air blasting at him through a shot-out windscreen and Himmler babbling on and on about Speer’s treachery.

“That was 10:30 on the mark,” said Cremer.

A few minutes later they heard the roar of approaching automobiles, racing up the road as if the devil himself was chasing them. Then they came out of the woods. Two Mercedes and a Horch, all three incredibly shot up. They careened up the road and into the castle’s forecourt, and then reappeared as they went over the bridge. Looking at them through his glasses, Ziggy swore he could make out Franzi in the back of the Horch sitting next to Himmler. Then suddenly everything was silent again.

“Well, so much for that,” said Cremer. “Now we wait for Act Two.”

They settled back into their surveillance. The minutes ticked by, five minutes, ten, fifteen. Then they heard more vehicles approaching. Not as loud, but a lot more of them.

Excerpt from Germania, Simon & Schuster, 2008, ebook version available on Kindle here.