Seventeen Moments in Spring
Iulian Semyonov, Seventeen Moments in Spring (1969)
In late February 1945, Nazi Germany’s leadership was searching for ways to manage defeat and protect itself. Stirlitz, an undercover Soviet agent posing as a respected SS officer, arrived for a meeting at Heinrich Himmler’s headquarters and waited in the anteroom, surrounded by phones, files, and the quiet choreography of power. Then Walter Schellenberg, head of the SS foreign intelligence service and a practiced judge of people, walked in and recognized him. He drew Stirlitz aside at once. The scene turns on whether Stirlitz can read Schellenberg’s intent fast enough.
Original Source: Юлиан Семёнов, Семнаадцать мгновений весны, «Москва», № 11-12 (1969)
Apart from his masseur, there was probably only one per- son Himmler trusted entirely, and that person was Walter Schellenberg. He had been following Schellenberg’s career ever since the beginning of the 1930s, when Schellen- berg was still a student He knew that the handsome twenty-three-year-old had been educated at a Jesuit col- lege and had then gone on to graduate from the university with an arts degree. He also knew that his favorite profes- sor had been a man of Jewish extraction. He knew that Schellenberg at first had ridiculed National Socialism and had made remarks which were hardly flattering about the führer.
Himmler had several thousand men under him who, he knew, would remain loyal till their last drop of blood. He needed, in addition, five or six intelligent and astute as- sistants who, despite their skepticism, would serve him well. He perceived in Schellenberg the kind of cold calcu- lation which could make him an invaluable aide.
At the time, Schellenberg himself was becoming disen- chanted with the position of the German intellectuals who took refuge in their lake-shore houses and only talked bit- terly about Hitler’s villainy or cautiously made fun of his hysterical behavior. So, after several conversations with Heydrich and one meeting with Himmler himself, Schel- lenberg accepted a position in the intelligence service of the Third Reich.
His first taste of actual operations came at Kitty’s salon. With the help of his file cards, Chief of Criminal Investigation Nebbe selected for this fashionable salon the most elegant prostitutes in Berlin, Munich, and Hamburg. Then, according to Heydrich’s instructions, he identified various young wives of German diplomats and high- ranking officers, women who were tired of their isolation. Their husbands were busy night and day at confer- ences, traveling around the country, or flying abroad.
They were bound to be bored and looking for entertain- ment. They found it at Kitty’s, where diplomats from Asia, America, and Europe gathered.
Experts from the SD’s technical division constructed double walls in this salon and set up listening devices and cameras. Schellenberg fitted in perfectly with Heydrich’s scheme. He was the ideal host at the salon, playing the role of a fashionable pimp. The two of them spent hours watching films of the wives of acquaintances passing the time with foreign diplomats.
Further use of the guests at Kitty’s took two forms. Compromised diplomats would start carrying out intelli- gence work for Schellenberg, while the compromised wives of military, Party, and government figures of the Third Reich were entered into the card file maintained by Gestapo chief Müller.
Müller, however, was not permitted to work in the salon itself. His peasant exterior and crude jokes might have frightened away the guests. It was then that he first felt himself to be dependent on a mere twenty-three- year-old.
"He thinks that I’ll start grabbing for the thighs of his painted ladies,” Müller said once to an assistant. “Some honor! I wouldn’t go to bed with any one of them, not if you paid me. In our village, that kind of woman is called a dung worm.”
When Frau Heydrich called Schellenberg during her husband’s absence and complained of the boredom and he suggested they go somewhere out of town, to a lake, Müller found out about it at once. He decided that now was the time to give it in the neck to this pretty little boy.
Schellenberg took Frau Heydrich out to the Plönersee. She was a woman he deeply respected. He could speak to her about the great tragedy of ancient Greece and about the crude sensuality of Rome. They strolled along the lake shore and talked. Two of Müller’s regulars with fat, round faces were swimming in the icy water, observing Subject No. 2 and Subject No. 75. MilHer called Frau Heydrich Subject No. 2 in consideration of the position held by her husband in the Reich’s security system. The agents were supposed to photograph the “subjects” if they should “take a roll in the bushes,” as Müller put it. The subjects did not oblige.
However, Miiller decided that blind jealousy is almost more terrible than direct observation. Therefore, he placed a report on Heydrich’s desk. He made no com- ments, knowing that Heydrich was a man of inordinate pride and unexpected decisions.
When he had read the report, he did not say anything to Müller, merely dismissing him with a nod. Later that evening, Heydrich walked into Schellenberg’s office, gave him a pat on the shoulder and suggested that they pick up his wife and go out for a drink. The three of them were up until four in the morning. By that time, they had all drunk quite a lot. Heydrich leaned over to Schellenberg until their faces almost touched and proposed that the two of them drink to friendship. They drained their glasses, then Heydrich leaned over again and said, almost in a whisper:
“Here’s the thing, I’ve given you poison. If you do not tell me the whole truth about the way in which you spent your time on the Plönersee with my wife, you will die. If you tell me the truth, however terrible it is for me to hear, I will give you the antidote.”
Schellenberg at once recalled the two idiots swimming in the lake. He said:
“All right She was bored. We went for a walk and talked. Yes, I was with Frau Heydrich, I idolize this woman, the wife of a man whom I regard as truly great The antidote, where is it?”
Heydrich laughed under his breath, poured Schellenberg some more vermouth and handed it to him.
Six months after this incident, Schellenberg went to Heydrich and asked permission to marry a woman who had a Polish mother. This meant that an investigation would have to be carried out. Himmler personally looked over the photographs of Schellenberg’s future wife and mother-in-law. Specialists were called in. His fiancee’s skull was measured as well as her forehead, and her ears were checked for the proper Aryan configuration. Himmler gave his approval.
One evening, some time after the marriage had taken place, Heydrich took Schellenberg aside and said;
“Do you imagine that I don’t know that your wife’s sister is married to a Jewish banker?” Heydrich had been drinking quite heavily.
Schellenberg’s heart sank and his hands turned cold. But Heydrich simply shrugged his shoulders and walked off. Schellenberg did not know at the time that the grand- father of the head of the Third Reich’s Security Service had been a Jew who played violin at the Viennese operetta.
* * *
Schellenberg noticed Stirlitz sitting in the Reichsführer’s waiting room. He was holding a grayish green embossed folder which contained a single sheet of paper, the letter he had written just after returning from Кöреrnick, informing Himmler of the Berne contact
“Good morning, Stirlitz,” Schellenberg greeted him.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
“Good morning,” Stirlitz replied. “You look tired.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Indeed.”
“Come along to my office; there’s something I must discuss with you.”
“But I have an appointment with the Reichsführer.”
“What about?” Schellenberg asked.
“A private matter.”
“I won’t keep you long; you can ask for another ap- pointment later today... it's important."
"All right,” Stirlitz muttered. "Only I’m afraid it’ll be inconvenient for the Reichsführer.”
"Don’t worry. He’ll be here all day.” And he turned to the adjutant on duty:
“Please make another appointment for Standartenführer Stirlitz, for later today.”
"Yes, sir, Brigadenführer.”
Schellenberg took Stirlitz by the arm and led him out Near the building’s central staircase, they bumped into Müller.
“You young devils plotting some more dirty tricks, I suppose,” he said to them.
“Sure,” Schellenberg answered with a brisk smile.
“Why not?”
“We’re nothing compared to you,” said Stirlitz. "We’re lambs of God next to you.”
"You think so—next to me?” Müller said with surprise. “Anyway, it’s all right to be considered a devil. People die, but their memory remains. So what if it’s an evil memory!”
* * *
During the last few months of the war, whenever Hitler would repeat like an incantation that collapse of the Western alliance was a matter of weeks away, whenever he would assure everyone that the West would still turn to the Germans for help after being decisively defeated, it seemed to many that this was simply a manifestation of the Führer’s character—his ability to believe to the end whatever his sick and obsessive imagination contrived. In this case, however, there was some basis in fact for what Hitler was saying. Bormann’s intelligence people, bypassing Himmler and Ribbentrop as well as the military, had obtained an especially significant document, as early as the middle of 1944. In it, among other things, was the line: “If the methods of Bolshevism are successful, then European culture will be replaced by the most terrible form of barbarism that has ever existed.”
This sentence from a stolen document came from the pen of Winston Churchill. He had written it in a secret memorandum in October 1942, when the Russians were not in Poland but outside Stalingrad.
Undoubtedly, Hitler would not have published orders making any attempt to negotiate punishable by swift death had he known about the intense difference of opinion which existed in 1943 and 1944 between the British and the Americans over the direction of the main thrust of the Allied armies. Churchill insisted on landing troops in the Balkans. He was motivated by the desire to block a Communist Balkan area, possibly a Communist Italy as well. The serious-minded Americans, however, under- stood that Churchill’s attempt to direct the main thrust at Hitler through the Balkans and not France was completely self-serving. They took note of the fact that, if the decision were in favor of Churchill, it would make Great Britain a predominant influence in the Mediterranean and upset the postwar balance of power.
In the winter of 1945, Churchill formulated his strategy for his closest associates. First, he considered that Soviet Russia had become the most significant threat to the free world. Second, it was necessary to create a new front, as soon as possible, to thwart Russia’s excessive military ad- vances. Third, this new European front must be pushed as far as possible toward the East. Fourth, the real aim of the Anglo-American armies was to be Berlin. Fifth, the liberation of Czechoslovakia and the entrance of American troops into Prague was of utmost importance. Sixth, Vienna, and the whole of Austria, should fall under the direct control of the Western powers.
Most of all, Churchill feared a Russian dash for the shores of the Atlantic. To forestall that extreme circumstance he was even ready to enter into contact with those in power who might be in opposition to the Führer—so long as any contact could later be called a probing operation. …
* * *
Eismann paced up and down in his office for some time. He was unable to answer fully the question that was plaguing him—Why had Stirlitz fallen into suspicion. He sat down at his desk and began to leaf through the file on the Protestant Pastor Fritz Schlag. Schlag had been arrested in the summer of 1944 on suspicion of activities detrimental to the state. He had been denounced by two of his parishioners, who, in their reports, noted how the Pastor had called for peace and brotherhood among men and condemned the barbarism of war and the senselessness of bloodshed. A preliminary investigation had revealed that Pastor Schlag had met, on several occasions, with ex- Chancellor Bruning, before Bruning’s departure for Switzerland. There was, however, no evidence of any political ties between the two men.
Eismann was puzzled. Why had Pastor Schlag ended up with the Gestapo? Why had Schellenberg’s people shown such an interest in him? The answer to that ques- tion he found in a short note that had been added to the file. In 1933, the Pastor had made two visits abroad, one to Great Britain and the other to Switzerland, to take part in pacifist congresses. “They were concerned with his con- tacts,” Eismann concluded. “They wanted to know whom he had met there. That was why they handed him over to Stirlitz. But why Stirlitz? He was given the job . . . and he did it....”
Eismann leafed through the file. The interrogations had been short and to the point. For the sake of objectivity he wanted to take some notes from them so that his conclu- sions would be substantiated by documentary evidence. But there was practically nothing to write down.
He telephoned a special card-index office.
“Eismann from the fourth section here. Hello. Could you please look and see if you have a recording of the in- terrogation of a Pastor Schlag conducted by Standar- tenfuhrer Stirlitz on September 29, 1944?”
* * *
Chapter Seven
Schellenberg said:
“One-ton bombs at least.”
“Apparently,” Stirlitz agreed.
Stirlitz hardly felt the shock of the bombs. He was almost numb from the shock of what Schellenberg had been telling him.
“Something is afoot,” Schellenberg had said. ‘Tm not going to tell you any more than is good for you to know. But it involves a mission to Switzerland. Can you under- stand what that might mean?”
“I can guess,” Stirlitz said, “but guessing is a fool’s game. I’ll wait to hear what you have to say.”
Schellenberg smiled. “Good for you,” he said. “No guesses. All you need to know is that the project I have in mind is for the good of the German people.”
Stirlitz noticed that Schellenberg said nothing about Hitler. On his lap he still was holding the grayish green embossed folder which contained a single sheet of paper—the letter he had written to Himmler, meaning to deliver it an hour ago. Stirlitz felt now as though it were a bomb which had luckily failed to explode.
His face betrayed none of this. He only said, “And how can I be of service?”
“We want to send your Pastor Schlag on a trip,” Schellenberg replied. “He can be of great service to the Fatherland in Switzerland. Can you persuade him to go?”
“I can persuade him to go,” Stirlitz said, “but whether I can persuade him to do what you want him to do is another matter. If he knows he’s doing it for the SS, he will refuse. ГП have to give him a good story.”
Schellenberg smiled. “Who knows, maybe you can tell him the truth, or at least part of it We are having some conversations with certain parties in Berne. We wish to test their sincerity. Pastor Schlag’s contacts will be useful to us in determining whether these parties are talking in good faith, or are only stalling.”
“And I'm not to know what these conversations are about?”
“You’ll be told as much as you need to know. For now, I want you to be thinking of a story for the good Pastor.”
“Schellenberg’s ploy isn’t as simple as it might appear,” Stirlitz said to himself. “The Pastor has obviously been of interest to him from the beginning, for future use as a decoy. The fact that he needs him now is symptomatic. And he wouldn’t have undertaken all this without Himmler’s knowledge.” But Stirlitz realized that he must feel out the situation at once, discuss all the details with Schellenberg without seeming to be in a hurry. The more calmly and deliberately he acted now, the greater his chances of success.
“I think they are moving off,” Schellenberg said, straining to hear the planes. “Or maybe not?”
“They’re flying away to take on more bombs.”
"No, that bunch will be able to live it up back at base. They’ve got enough planes to bomb us without interruption. ... So, you think that the Pastor will return, if we keep his sister and her children as hostages.”
“Absolutely.”
“And after he comes back he’ll keep quiet when Müller interrogates him about whether it was you who asked him to go and look for contacts?”
“I’m not sure about that,” Stirlitz replied. “It depends on who does the interrogating.”
“It would be better if you kept on hand the tapes of your conversations with him and if he, as they say, bought it during a bombing raid.”
"I’ll think about it. …
“How long?”
“I’d ask you to give me time to give this a proper going over.”
"How much time do you need for that?”
“I’ll try to have something ready by evening ”
“Good,” Schellenberg said. “They have left after all. Would you like some coffee?”
“Very much, but only after I’ve finished here.”
“I’m glad to see that you get the point right away. This will be a good lesson for Müller. He’s started showing off. Even with the Reichsführer. We’ll do his work for him and wipe his nose as well. We’ll be doing the Reichsführer a great service.”
"Does the Reichsführer know about this?”
“No … let’s say not. Get it? You know, I really enjoy working with you.”
“I like working with you, too.”
"Why do you look so angry?”
“What makes you think I’m angry?” Stirlitz mumbled. “I’m a lot gloomier when I’m angry. At the moment I’m simply concentrating.”
Schellenberg accompanied Standartenführer von Stirlitz to the door and, as they shook hands, said: “If everything works out according to plan, you can take five days off in the mountains. The skiing is wonderful now, the snow is powdery and you’ll come back with a tan. God, how wonderful, isn’t it. We’ve forgotten about so much during the war.”
“Above all we’ve forgotten about ourselves, like coats in a cloakroom after an Easter drinking bout.…
“Yes, indeed,” Schellenberg agreed with a sigh. “Like coats in a cloakroom …How long has it been since you stopped writing poetry?”
“I never began."
Schellenberg shook his finger at him and warned: “White lies lead to great mistrust, Stirlitz.”
“I can swear," Stirlitz answered with a smile, “that I have written everything except verse. I’m completely at a loss when it comes to rhyme.”
After destroying his letter to Himmler, Stirlitz left the building on Prinz Albrechtstrasse and walked slowly down the street toward the Spree. The sidewalk had been cleared, although only the previous night there had been piles of broken bricks lying about. There were two or even three bombing raids a night now.
“I was on the brink,” Stirlitz thought. “When Schellenberg instructed me to work on Pastor Schlag, it was ex- Chancellor Briining who interested him. Nothing more. He was concerned about the foreign contacts the Pastor might have, and that was why he agreed so readily to let him be released once I told him that the old man would work with us. He knew what he wanted and was counting on the Pastor agreeing later to being the front man in a really serious game. But that’s ridiculous: What part could Schlag play in the Wolff operation? What kind of operation is it? In whose interest? Why did Schellenberg turn the radio on while he was telling me about Wolff’s trip to Switzerland? If he’s afraid to talk about it out loud, that means it’s going to be a really high powered affair. And Obergruppenführer Karl Wolff is vested with full powers—his rank in the SS is the same as Ribbentrop’s or Fegelein’s. Schellenberg could not avoid telling me about Wolff or else I would have asked him how the operation could be prepared in the dark. Would the West really sit down at a conference table with Himmler? Though Himmler does have power, and they know that. And there’s no point in negotiating with someone without real power. That would be out of the question; they’re not go- ing to sit down at the same table ... All right. Let the Pastor be the bait, the decoy, the guinea pig—that’s obviously what they all have in mind. But they probably hadn’t taken into account that Schlag already has strong ties in Switzerland. That means I’ve got to work the old fellow around so that he uses his influence against those who will be sending him there—through me. I was going to use him as a reserve channel, but it looks as if he’s going to be playing a much more responsible role. It’s not he who’s going to set up the contacts there. If I supply him with a cover story of my own, not Schellenberg’s, he’ll probably be approached by the Vatican as well as the British and the Americans. That’s obvious. I’ve got to work out a story for him that will be bound to arouse real interest, enough to offset the presence of the other Germans in Switzerland. We’ll see who will come out on top. In any case, the important thing now, is, first, to work out a suitable identity for him, and then, decide on the names of those whom he’ll represent as opposing Hitler and Himmler.”
Stirlitz sat in the tavern for a long while with a glass of cognac. It was quiet here, and no one distracted him from his thoughts. They were precise and aggravated. It was always like that with him when he came up against some- one he could not justify or comprehend.
The man he had in mind, Martin Bormann, was known to no one. He was rarely seen in newsreels and still less often in photographs with the Führer. He was short, his head came to a point, he had a scar on his cheek which looked like a memento of student duels, and he always tried to hide behind others’ backs when reporters started clicking their shutters.
Source: Julian Semyonov, The Himmler Ploy (New York, 1978)