The most substantial information provided by Kolbe concerned the international relations of the Reich, particularly its links with the members of the Axis and with neutral countries close to Germany, such as Spain and Portugal. It was clear from reading the dispatches from Berlin that that Europe was beginning to fall apart and was now held together only by force. Even fear of the Soviets was no longer a sufficient adhesive force.
With reference to Italy, the cables brought by Fritz sketched an image of a defeated country, torn in two, under the iron grip of the Nazis (the north and the capital had been occupied by the Wehrmacht since September 1943). One dispatch reported recent discussions in Belluno, in the Italian Alps, between Mussolini and the German ambassador to Rome, Rudolf Rahn. “Mussolini attacked the German scorched-earth policy in a recent discussion with Rahn. The former said that this policy would make the Italian people so angry that it would result in preventing any effective Italian cooperation in fighting alongside the Nazis.”
On Spain, one dispatch described in a few words the state of relations between the two countries: “Conti [Franco] still wants Germans to win…. Unfavorable news from battlefront bothers Conti who wants news of military developments from HQ.” To be sure, Spain was continuing to supply strategic materials to Germany—one dispatch provided the tonnage of tungsten delivered by Spain to Germany between January and September 1943 (more than seven hundred tons). These exports were disguised as “shipments of sardines,” sometimes as “shipments of oranges,” and a little later as “shipments of lead.” But Franco’s ministers were not all in agreement about continuing these exports and some were beginning to think that it was time to shift to the side of the Allies. At the same time, Baron Oswald von Hoyningen-Huene, the Reich’s envoy to Lisbon, was warning Berlin that Portugal intended to increase the prices for its raw materials (tungsten, especially) shipped to Germany.
The Americans were probably a little disappointed that Fritz had brought so little material coming from Japan. But there was an interesting cable from Tokyo, dated December 20, 1943, in which the German ambassador reported that he had heard that “Stalin has recently been a victim of ‘Herzasthma’ and his physicians have urged that he take a rest.”
The hesitations of central European countries that were allied with Berlin appeared openly. All of a sudden, thanks to Kolbe, it was possible to see the gradual crumbling of Hitler’s alliances, prelude to a direct assumption of power by the Reich authorities. Bulgaria and Rumania seemed to be the first to want to change sides. Sofia, October 29, 1943: “The state of mind of the Bulgarian population is growing much worse.” Bucharest, November 1943: “The situation in Rumania is becoming serious. The arms supplied by Germany remain in the country and are not used in the fight against Russia.” Indications of gradual detachment by each of these allied countries proliferated in the press (there were no more attacks on Stalin, war propaganda grew weaker, and there was better treatment of the Jews, according to the documents provided by Kolbe). With reference to Hungary, Fritz delivered more ambiguous reports. “Hungary remains firmly on the side of the Reich. What can the Americans offer us? Guarantee our borders?” explained Otto Hatz, a high official in the Hungarian intelligence services in mid-December.
Many documents had to do with France. Fritz Kolbe allowed them to see, almost day by day, the serious crisis of confidence in the fall of 1943 between Vichy and the Reich, which would lead to increased control by Berlin over the regime and the gradual establishment of a “militia state.” In late October 1943, the German ambassador in Paris, Otto Abetz, revealed to Ribbentrop that Pétain was trying to make contact with the Allies. The marshal’s immediate entourage was subject to intensified suspicion on the part of the Germans. Conversely, Pierre Laval enjoyed the confidence of the German authorities and was constantly seeking Berlin’s support in his struggle for influence against Pétain. In addition, in a conversation with Roland Krug von Nidda, Otto Abetz’s representative at Vichy, on October 27, 1943, “he requested that he be allowed to undertake the job of cleaning up Pétain’s group of associates.” Another cable signed by Otto Abetz on December 3 considered the possibility of forcing Pétain to resign without directly offending French public opinion. “For French consumption,” Abetz wrote, “it is essential to show that Pétain failed in an historic mission and led the country almost to ruin…. Inside France, the Pétain regime produced national stagnation and reaction.”
Abetz wrote again on December 14, 1943: “The increasing poverty of the French laboring masses has created the fear of a gradual shift toward communism.” And on December 16: “Doriot’s headquarters imply that they do not wish to participate in the government unless the Cabinet is selected by Doriot himself.” And on December 19, a dispatch provided a statistical summary of attacks committed by the French Resistance. The figures gave evidence of a continuous increase.
And then there was an astonishing document dated December 24, 1943: a list of thirty-five prominent French personalities that the Gestapo proposed to have arrested, although it had not been able to reach its goal, “the various German authorities not having succeeded in coming to an agreement” on those arrests. As a consequence, Otto Abetz decided to send the list to Berlin in order to get definitive instructions from his ministry. The list, presented in alphabetical order, contained no names of political figures, except for that of a former minister, Lucien Lamoureux, characterized as an “active radical-socialist” but defended by the German military authorities against the Gestapo. Principally targeted were the mayors of a certain number of French towns characterized as “opponents of collaboration,” “pro-Jewish Gaullists,” “Freemasons,” or even “members of the Rotary Club.” The mayors of Caen, Rennes, Rouen, Poitiers, Abbeville, Lunéville, Versailles, Fontainebleau, Chartres, Pontivy, and even Vichy were suspected. There were also some prefects (Alpes-Maritimes, Hérault, Calvados). But in every case Ambassador Abetz or the military occupation authorities pointed out that there was no evidence of an offense and refused to authorize the arrests. There were also important figures from the world of finance, such as Henri Ardant, the influential president of the Société Générale (the Gestapo denounced his “anti-German attitude,” but the military authorities defended him) and Yves Bréart de Boisanger, governor of the Bank of France (called “disloyal” by the Gestapo, but Hans-Richard Hemmen, the Reich’s delegate for economic and financial questions to the French authorities, opposed his arrest. There were also several actors: Jean-Louis Barrault, Marie Bell, Béatrice Bretty (“the embassy expresses reservations, because they are politically insignificant; very much appreciated as artists”), and personalities of the intellectual world like the publisher Jean Fayard, whom the embassy defended because he had “published books favorable to National Socialism before the war.” In the end, the composition of this “blacklist” had no consequences. The weakness of the accusations, the competition among the different occupation authorities, and the complexity of the protective networks were stronger than the Gestapo.
Bern/Berlin, early January 1944
Because of the holiday at the end of the year, Fritz had stayed an entire week in Bern. He returned to Berlin on Sunday, January 2. Later, speaking of this trip, he remembered that he had returned home in a state of advanced fatigue, “not at all rested or rejuvenated, but pale with exhaustion, having gone without sleep for several nights, and always a little nervous.” The last adjective is a euphemism: Every time he returned to Germany, Fritz was terrified at the idea of being picked up by the Gestapo when he got off the train. But this time again, he could return home as though nothing had happened.