The Gathering Storm

By Alan Jones

The Gathering Storm: Book 1 in the Sturmtaucher Trilogy: a powerful and compelling story of two families torn apart by evil.

‘Kiel, Northern Germany, 1933. A naval city, the base for the German Baltic fleet, and the centre for German sailing, the venue for the upcoming Olympic regatta in 1936.

The Kästners, a prominent Military family, are part of the fabric of the city, and its social, naval and yachting circles. The Nussbaums are the second generation of their family to be in service with the Kästners as domestic staff, but the two households have a closer bond than most.

As Adolf Hitler and his National Socialist Party claw their way to power in 1933, life has never looked better for families like the Kästners. There is only one problem.

The Nussbaums are Jews.

The Sturmtaucher Trilogy documents the devastating effect on both families of the Nazis’ hateful ideology and the insidious erosion of the rights of Germany's Jews.

When Germany descends ever deeper into dictatorship, General Erich Kästner tries desperately to protect his employees, and to spirit them to safety.

As the country tears itself apart, the darkness which envelops a nation threatens not only to destroy two families, but to plunge an entire continent into war.’

-------

'This book was such an incredible, outstanding read, the characters, the attention to detail, a powerful storyline, it’s definitely a book that will stay with me for a long time to come.'
Lorraine Rugman, The Book Review Café.

'The Gathering Storm couldn’t have been a more perfect title for this book. You can feel the war brewing and it is a story that will have a deep impact on its reader.'
Sarah Hardy, ByTheLetterBookReviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Jones
• Release date: Aug 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781999736811

Alan Jones

Alan Jones was born in 1943 and grew up in Liverpool during the post-war years. He trained as a teacher at Chester College and pursued a career in Primary Education as a class teacher, headteacher, and university tutor. He is a Church of England Lay Reader Emeritus. Alan has published two other books, both of which are in the adult social history genre. They are, Don’t Wake Up George Brown! and Parishioners at War.

Book preview

CONTENTS

Start

Preface

Illustrations

Map of Germany

Map of Kiel

Prologue

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

References & Attributions

Bibliography

About

Glossary

PREFACE

This is a work of fiction. Most of the characters are drawn from my imagination but some of the characters existed: world leaders, the higher echelons of the National Socialist Party, some senior SS and Gestapo officers, and prominent clergy and military figures. I also included a few notable Kiel citizens who made the newspapers of the day - Dr. Friedrich Schumm, Wilhelm Spiegel and Otto Eggerstedt. They were truly brave men.

I also discovered Captain Wilhelm Canaris during my research. The more I read about him the more I believed that he would have been General Erich Kästner’s closest friend. Apart from the private conversations he had with the General and other characters in the book, Wilhelm Canaris’s story is largely true, as far as I could establish.

Many of the events in the book, or events like them, happened. Where they are fictitious, I have tried to write them with integrity, always having in mind that they could have taken place, and that none of them should distract from the truth of the terrible crimes committed across Europe during the darkest time in human history.

On a very few instances, I have changed a location or tweaked a timescale to suit the narrative, but it is rare, and I hope the historians will forgive me.

I made extensive use of maps and nautical charts from the 1930's and 40’s during my research. It was the only way I could make sense of the global scale of the war, and the Holocaust. I have included a few maps and charts in the book but it would be impossible to show enough detail in them to be truly useful, but maps, charts, and diagrams are available in much larger format at www.alanjonesbooks.co.uk/maps_charts_plans_st.html

There is also a raft of other supporting material; photographs, documents, and links to other websites packed with information surrounding the events in the book, and a glossary. As a reader, I always find these resources useful, especially when reading books of the length and scope of the Sturmtaucher Trilogy. www.alanjonesbooks.co.uk/sturmtaucher_trilogy.html

Handsell’s German - English dictionary

Sturmtaucher; noun. Shearwater (Seabird)

Richsthoffen’s Encyclopaedia of Natural History

Manx Shearwater [Puffinus puffinus]

Richsthoffen’s Encyclopaedia of Natural History - Manx Shearwater

A medium-sized shearwater in the seabird family Procellariidae. These birds are most common in temperate and cold waters. They are tubenose birds and have a cruciform flight, with their long wings held directly out from their bodies. They fly close to the water, cutting or shearing the tips of waves to move across wave fronts with the minimum of active flight. This technique gives the group its name.

Map Description automatically generated

For more detailed maps visit https://www.alanjonesbooks.co.uk/maps_charts_plans_st.html

PROLOGUE

[19/05/2001 Saturday]

Maldon, England.

‘It’s hard to know where to begin, but I guess the day I met Adolf Hitler is as good a place as any.’

My head jerked up.

‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Ruth said, smiling. ‘I moved in very exclusive circles in those days.’

She paused.

‘He was a well-groomed man; bristling with zeal and an intensity that held every one of us in the crowd in his thrall, even myself. I was only twelve at the time, but if I’d known then what he and the National Socialists would do, I’d have pushed him off the dais, onto the cobbles below.’

A vein throbbed in her temple, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

I was interviewing Ruth Nussbaum at her home in Maldon, overlooking the quay and the salt flats beyond, as part of my dissertation. I’d heard snippets of her life as a young girl in Germany, but it wasn’t until I was in my final year at the University of Lincoln, studying for a degree in English and Journalism, that I realised Ruth’s story would be an ideal topic for my final paper, if she’d agree to tell me about it.

‘A beautiful Kiel day,’ she said. ‘Bright sunshine. A fresh-to-strong breeze. Ideal conditions for racing, and I knew that the boys’ boat had a great chance of winning.’

She sighed.

‘They had stiff opposition,’ she continued, ‘from one of the navy boats in particular, but Johann and Franz were just too strong for them, and they crossed the line half a boat-length or so in front.’

Her eyes glistened, the memory of sixty-five years ago as fresh as if it were yesterday, and she was a young girl again.

‘That’s how we met The Führer, Antje and I. He presented the winners with their prizes, and we were there. I’m sure he guessed that I was a Jew.’

This time, as her eyes closed again, her mouth formed a thin, taut line across her face, and a shiver passed through her. Her hands gripped the side of the chair with whitened knuckles.

I gave her a few seconds to compose herself, watching as her body slowly relaxed and she opened her eyes again.

‘Yes, that was the beginning.’

It wasn’t, as it turned out, but I wouldn’t know that until Ruth had finished telling me her part in the story, and I’d had a chance to flesh out the rest, with thousands upon thousands of hours of research.

I could have picked another date to start; the end of the First World War in 1918, or three years later, when Adolf Hitler became leader of the National Socialist Party. I could have chosen the Beer Hall Putsch in ’23 when he and his party attempted to overthrow the Weimar Government, or the publication a few years later of Mein Kampf, his blueprint for what was to blacken Germany a decade later.

I chose to begin in early 1933. It was the day General Erich Franz Kästner retired from the German Army, and it was Ruth Nussbaum’s earliest encounter with the terrible changes that were to sweep across Europe over the next twelve or so years.

I didn’t use her story for my dissertation, knowing that twenty thousand words would barely scratch its surface. To this day, I can’t remember what I submitted, but it secured my degree and a job in a small regional newspaper close to home. The wages and prospects weren’t great, but I could live within my means and do the job without too much effort, and the resources I had at my fingertips as a member of the press allowed me to unravel Ruth’s story, and that of those she loved, piece by piece. I spent two years checking the facts and immersing myself in the horror her memories had unlocked. There were trips to Kiel and Hamburg, and one to Denmark, and a visit to a Jewish archive in Berlin. I buried myself for hours on end in the reading rooms of the British Library in London, and there were journeys north to Perthshire in Scotland, then Oban. I even flew to Boston for a weekend.

Ruth died not long after reading the first draft of her story, when she’d told me that not much needed changed.

‘You skimped somewhat on the passion we had,’ she’d said with her wicked smile. ‘I can understand that it might be a little awkward for you, being the latest generation to think sex is a new discovery, but I’m glad that I’ve told my story, and that you’ve managed to put it down so well on paper.’

They were the last words she spoke to me. A few weeks later, after her funeral, I began the second draft with her words in mind, adding more colour to her character, and those around her, fleshing out their desires, and their hunger for life, and started looking around for a suitable publisher.

This is the manuscript that I’m submitting. I’ll let you be the judge of whether it’s worthy of consideration.

1933

Weighing the sacrifices of the last war, we want to be true friends of a peace which will at last heal the wounds from which all have suffered.

Adolf Hitler, Potsdam, March 21, 1933

CHAPTER 1

[28/01/1933 Saturday]

Kiel, Germany.

The party was in full swing. Miriam Nussbaum, the Kästner’s cook and housekeeper, and her husband Yosef, the butler, driver, and handyman, shuttled back and forward from the kitchen with heaped plates of food; Matjes, the pickled herrings famed in Kiel, brown shrimp on toast with dill, and Leberknödel, the small liver dumplings that Miriam made better than anyone else Maria, the General’s wife, knew. A buzz of conversation filled the large drawing room and the sound of children’s laughter drifted from the open doorway.

General Kästner stood talking with a group of men, most of them dressed in military uniforms bedecked with arrays of medals. He saw his wife attempting to usher the throng to their seats for the first of the three courses that she’d spent weeks planning with Miriam, who was now pouring the wine for their guests.

When they finally began to drift through in small groups, Yosef shepherded the children in with his usual immaculate timing and seated them at the smaller table set up for them at the side of the large room.

The General caught his eye, nodded, and smiled.

~~o~~

In the lull that followed, Yosef escaped to the kitchen and picked up the newspaper lying on the table. He skimmed through the article about his employer.

KIELER MORGENPOST

Wednesday 25th January 1933

KIEL GENERAL RETIRES

General Erich Kästner retired today, after close to thirty years of active service in the German Army. Born in Kiel, the son of Admiral Franz Kästner, he joined the 3rd Army, 22nd Infantry Division of the Imperial German Army in 1904 and saw action in both Deutsch-Westafrika and Deutsch-Ostafrika. He rose from the rank of Major to Oberst during the Great War, serving on the Western Front, winning an Iron Cross at Passchendaele. He was promoted to General four years later, in the much reduced 2nd Division, garrisoned in Stettin. General Kästner told the Morgenpost that it had been a privilege to serve his beloved Deutschland and that, despite retiring from active duty, he hoped that his experience could still be of some use to the Reichswehr, and to his country. General Kästner is married and has four children. He and his wife, Maria, live in the Hassee district of Kiel, overlooking Drachensee. Franz, his eldest son, has been accepted as a candidate at Hanover Military Academy, and will join in September of this year.

For a few minutes, the buzz of conversation faded to a hushed quiet, with only the clacking of cutlery on fine china and the occasional request to pass the condiments breaking the silence, as the General and his guests focused on the food. As the diners cleared their plates, the thrum of debate and gossip resumed.

Yosef laid down his paper and returned to the dining room to tend to the diners’ needs.

~~o~~

‘So, Erich, how does it feel being a free man? Perhaps you should at last join the navy.’

Vizeadmiral Conrad Albrecht nodded at the laughter his comment had generated around the table.

‘Conrad,’ the General replied, ‘it feels strange. Notwithstanding my lovely wife, Maria,’ he said, turning to her, and ignoring her blushes, ‘I feel as if I’ve been married to the army for the last, well, almost thirty years.’ He paused, while the murmurs of his guests subsided. ‘And now we’ve had a divorce. The last thing I want is a mistress.’

A chorus of jeers erupted from the men of the Reichswehr, delighted with their army colleague’s rebuttal, in the age-old inter-service war of attrition.

The laughter subsided, and the room soon filled with scattered conversations around the table, in their twos and threes. Even at the children’s table, there were whispers about who was who in the rather imposing assembly of adults, interspersing the more mundane chatter about school, and what games they would play once they had been freed from the constraints of the dinner table.

‘Old Franz will want to listen to the boring grown-ups as usual.’

Eva, the elder of the General’s two daughters, teased her oldest brother, knowing that Johann, a year or so his younger, was the one who was full of mischief, and much more likely to indulge in the fun and games that always ensued when the Kästner, Böhm and Nussbaum children got the chance to play together.

The other children giggled, and Johann did a perfect impersonation of Franz trying to act like his father.

For most of the year, the Kästner children, once they reached the age of twelve, boarded, depending on their sex, at a military school for young men, or at the girls’ school designed to impart the finer points of being ladies to the often unruly and resistant daughters of Kiel’s officer class.

When they were old enough, the two Nussbaum children would attend local upper schools befitting the offspring of those employed in domestic service. Antje, the youngest of the General’s two daughters, was still at home and was in the same Grundschule as Ruth. It was the school that all the Kästner and Nussbaum children attended before the age of twelve.

The General smiled, seeing his son’s pained expression at the ribbing he was being subjected to by his brother. He watched him strain to listen to the confused snatches of grown-up conversation reaching him from the main table.

No matter. He’ll be seventeen next year and sitting with the adults.

At fifteen, Franz was the eldest of them. Ruth Nussbaum was the same age as Antje, his youngest sister, four years junior to Eva, who was already a precocious fourteen-year-old. The baby of the group was Immanuel, or Manny, as everyone called him. He was Ruth’s younger brother and they all spoiled him by including him in most of the games they played, even though, at five, he sometimes restricted the scope of their activities. Lise and Eberhard Böhm, the children from next door, sat with them.

As soon as the first course was finished, Yosef and Miriam Nussbaum cleared the empty plates and, with Maria flapping back and forth from the kitchen, they applied the finishing touches to the main courses, and relayed the brimming dishes to the dining room.

The General smiled at his wife. Despite her belief that she ran the household, he knew that it was Miriam Nussbaum’s dedication that ensured that the Kästner home was kept spotless, clothes were washed and ironed, and dinner appeared on the table when it needed to.

He conceded that his wife oversaw the décor, and his social diary when he was at home, but it pleased him that Miriam let her mistress think that she was the Chef de Maison in her kitchen, as Maria liked to tell her friends.

The doorbell rang, and the children rushed to answer it before Yosef could get there.

‘It’s Uncle Wilhelm,’ the shouts came from the vestibule at the entrance. As often, Captain Wilhelm Canaris was the last to arrive. When his young welcoming party finally released him, he gave his coat to Yosef, and waited to be ushered in.

General Kästner pushed back his chair, rose to his feet, and excused himself to greet the small man standing in the hallway, who had been his friend since the early days of their respective military careers.

‘Canaris.’

‘Kästner.’

They laughed and grasped each other’s hands warmly.

Every conversation they’d ever had started this way. He knew that it infuriated Maria, who couldn’t see why the joke that had amused them so much when they’d met as junior officers was still considered funny. She was forever asking them why they didn’t use their forenames like normal people.

‘You’re still a captain?’ the General said, with a wide grin.

‘Yes, for now. The papers haven’t come through yet, but I’m sure I’ll be made up to an admiral next week.’ Captain Canaris returned the smile. ‘Are you still a general?’

‘Recently retired, to fester in my crumbling ruin. How are you? Are all your little cadets behaving themselves?’

In the up-and-down career of Wilhelm Canaris, he was now the commander of the Reichsmarine training vessel, the Schlesien.

‘Oh, these navy lot learn quickly, unlike your army rabble. They need to. We’re putting them through training in half the time. There are some outstanding young officers coming up through the ranks, and I’m convinced the more intensive training brings out the best in them.’

‘Ah. The Reichsmarine too. The Reichsheer is churning out soldiers as if a war is imminent. You’d think the French and the British would notice, wouldn’t you?’

‘Damn them. We stuck to that stupid treaty long enough. We need a strong army and a strong navy.’

The Treaty of Versailles, signed six months after the Armistice of 1918 that ended the First World War with a German defeat, limited the army to 100,000 men and the navy to just six battleships and six cruisers, twelve destroyers and no submarines. It also prohibited a German air force.

‘Enough politics, Canaris, come in and meet everyone. You’ll know most of them.’

~~o~~

A chorus of jeers met the pair as they entered the dining room. The captain’s tardiness for social occasions was famous in military circles, tolerated because he was excellent company, with an intelligent mind, a dry sense of humour and fluency in five or six languages, which made him the darling of the diplomatic circles.

He took the empty seat next to the rather dreary wife of one of General Kästner’s colleagues and proceeded to charm her, pretending that a discourse about her offspring, and a rundown on the latest garrison gossip, was of great interest to him.

As the guests tucked into the Sauerbraten, a beef dish marinated for days, then slow-cooked for twelve hours, accompanied by the traditional Bratkartoffeln, Knödel dumplings and Sauerkraut, Captain Canaris couldn’t resist commenting.

‘Maria, my darling, if they gave out medals for gourmet cooking, you’d have been decorated a long while ago for your wonderful food. The beef is delicious; it simply melts in the mouth. And the potatoes… what can I say? May I steal the recipe from you? I’m trying to improve my wife’s cooking.’

The table erupted with laughter and Maria Kästner blushed. Even if she’d been tempted to take the credit for the excellence of the food, Miriam and Yosef had just walked in with more plates piled high with traditional German food; Wiener Schnitzel, the thin, breaded, fried veal cutlet that was the General’s favourite, Bratwurst, Rinderrouladen, mouth-watering rolls of stuffed beef, and a local pasta dish, Maultaschen.

The General knew that Captain Canaris was all too aware of who was responsible for the brilliance of the dishes, and that Maria’s overseeing of the kitchen was more of a hindrance than a help. He stifled a laugh, trying to avoid his wife’s glare, and sat back to watch her squirm.

‘Oh, I can’t take all the glory, Captain Canaris,’ she said. ‘Miriam makes such an excellent job of it. I just plan it all and keep an eye on everything.’

She put on her best smile and waved her hand in the vague direction of the spread. The General, knowing that graciousness in a hostess was essential, suffered a pang of guilt at the teasing she endured from him and Canaris, a cruelty that had been going on since they’d all first met, while the two men were young officers.

And he knew it would earn him the edge of her tongue later.

The room settled down again and, listening to the pleasant hum of chatter, and bursts of laughter, the General was content that the evening was going well. When the Nussbaums returned to clear up after the main course which, he had to admit, had been a near perfect triumph, he heard his wife speak quietly to Miriam.

‘The General is going to say a few words before dessert. If you listen at the door you’ll hear when he’s drawing to a close, and you’ll know when to start serving.’

He saw Miriam nod dutifully.

The General had already told her what he’d planned to do, but he knew that Maria liked to feel that she was in charge and, because she was, on the whole, easy to work for, Miriam was more than happy to play her part in the pretence.

Although the Nussbaums were employees, the relationship between the two families went much deeper.

When the admiral, Erich’s father, had retired in 1913, he and his wife Ingrid stayed on in Kiel for a couple of years, rattling around in the big old house until Erich, now fighting on the Western Front, married Maria. The old couple had sat the newlyweds down and told them that instead of moving in with them when they returned from their honeymoon, as planned, the Drachensee house would now be theirs, to themselves.

‘We’ve decided to live at the lodge. We love the mountains. We’ll still come and visit, Erich, and you and your sister will always be welcome to come and stay with us. Fill this house with children. That’s what it’s for.’

The newlyweds had been dumbstruck – they had expected to start their married life as lodgers, so it was, Erich knew, both exciting and daunting for his bride to be the mistress of a grand house of her own.

Yosef’s parents, Samuel and Renate Nussbaum, had worked for the admiral for nearly three decades. A couple of years after the admiral and his wife left for their mountain retreat, the elder Nussbaums had also retired and Yosef and Miriam, not long married, had taken over the servants’ cottage and the domestic positions at the Drachensee house which they vacated.

Erich hadn’t interfered when his new bride had insisted on a more formal relationship with her domestic staff than the admiral and his wife had deemed appropriate, but it all changed when Maria became pregnant with her third child. It was not an easy confinement and, somewhere between Eva’s conception and the difficult birth, Miriam’s kindness and attention to the expectant mother and the premature child left a lasting mark on Maria, and the two women had been friends since.

There were still boundaries in place, as much at Miriam’s insistence as Maria’s; they came from social backgrounds that were worlds apart, and there was a mistress-servant relationship to maintain.

But, when the General rose to his feet, tapping his glass with a spoon to silence the hubbub, Yosef and Miriam, as proud of the General as if they were part of the family, stood unseen in the hallway, just outside the door.

‘Friends,’ the General started, ‘we feel humbled and privileged to have you share this evening with us. I’m not going to speak for long because I believe there are some especially delicious desserts to follow this wonderful meal, prepared by Miriam, helped, naturally, by my beautiful wife.’

There were a few murmurs, and everyone looked at Maria Kästner. She blushed a little.

‘Without her by my side, I wouldn’t have achieved as much as everyone seems to think I’ve done. If it weren’t for her, and my children, none of it would have mattered.’

There was a polite spattering of applause. It was the children’s turn to feel the gaze of the guests.

‘I owe an incredible debt of gratitude to my parents, who supported my choices. My father’s influence on me cannot be understated, which is why I joined the army instead of the navy.’

A chorus of good-natured whistles, stamping feet, jeers and boos filled the room from the army and navy contingents, and he waited for it to subside before continuing.

‘In all seriousness, their care for me, and the generous gift of this magnificent house, has made our lives here full of joy.’

He paused again, while the admiral and his wife were applauded with genuine affection.

‘Kiel has been a wonderful place to live and bring up children,’ he continued. ‘As you all know, my passion, sometimes shared by Maria and one or two of my children, has always been sailing, and there are few better places to be if you love nothing more than a fine wind and a steady cutter. We will continue to live in this great seafaring city for the rest of our days.’

A gentle round of appreciative murmurs greeted his praise for the navy town that most of them called home.

‘We’ve made a plethora of friends here, often through sailing, but also among the naval sorts who seem to congregate in these parts. In addition, I can’t forget those wonderful people I’ve met through my involvement in the Rotary Club and, last but by no means least, those acquaintances I’ve picked up over the years in the army.’ He looked around the table as he said this, nodding to each group in turn as they raised their glasses to him.

‘You all have what I can best describe as some questionable qualities…’ He paused as gentle laughter filled the room again. ‘But none more so than I, so perhaps that’s why we are such good friends.

‘Now, I hope to spend more of my time at home and devote myself to my family. While I do not intend to sit in front of the fire with my pipe and slippers, I haven’t quite decided what I am going to do to fill my days.’

He paused and looked around the room, as if gauging each face, and weighing up their character.

‘We are living in exciting times. While I don’t entirely agree with all of Herr Hitler’s politics, there is no doubt he is galvanising the nation. Within Germany, and within the Reichswehr, there are changes in the air which some of the older among us would have loved to have seen years ago but, now that they are happening, we have a few reservations. Still, for the greater good of our nation, we must embrace them.’

The Reichswehr, the German armed forces, was made up of the Reichsheer, the army, and the Reichsmarine, the navy. There was no air force under the terms of the Versailles Treaty.

Murmurs of assent from a few of the guests almost drowned out a subdued intake of breath from others at the table; it was unusual for Erich Kästner to make any point that was remotely political, unless to his close friends, and then only in the privacy of intimate conversation.

‘So please raise your glasses to Kiel, to Germany, and to a peaceful and prosperous future. Prost.’

They all stood up, and clinked the bottom of their glasses together, responding with one voice, in the usual impressive German fashion. When everyone sat down, with much chair-scraping and jostling, Wilhelm Canaris stayed on his feet.

‘Kästner,’ he said, looking at the General, ‘I’ve been asked to reply to your toast, the truth being that we all knew you wouldn’t pass up the chance to say a few words, and these people here…’ he swept his hands around the table, ‘these people seem to think that I give a monkey’s curse about you, and that some sort of friendship exists between us.’

The General smiled as the diners laughed, knowing his friend would never have replied with bland sentimentality.

‘However,’ he continued, ‘I have known General Erich Kästner for a number of years and indeed, I served under his father, a true military man.’

This time the ribald response of the uniformed guests was more voluble, and Captain Canaris smiled at his audience.

‘True, he fought valiantly in our African colonies, when we had some; he served on the Western Front with distinction, winning an Iron Cross and proving himself to be a clever and adept tactician who inspired his men, but at heart he was an army man and, coming from a background like his, with a deep knowledge of the sea, he must have been a profound disappointment to his father, Admiral Kästner, the white-haired and broken-hearted gentleman seated to my left.’

The room exploded with laughter. The admiral himself guffawed so much that his glasses fell off and had to be retrieved from the floor by the attentive Yosef. Most of the General’s friends had tears of laughter running down their cheeks and even some of the women smiled, amused by the indulgent behaviour of their childish spouses.

‘Despite that apparent stab in the back, the admiral has shown nothing but kindness for his wayward son and so, with reluctant grace, I must propose a toast. Erich, I hope your country is not finished with you yet. It would be a waste of all your experience and an extraordinary military mind, and I’m sure there will be something asked of you in the upcoming resurgence of our beloved Deutschland.’

He turned to his friend, and then to the assembled guests.

‘Please raise your glasses and join me in a toast to an outstanding General and a remarkable man. General Erich Franz Kästner.’

The loud and enthusiastic echo of Wilhelm Canaris’s toast reverberated around the room, and anyone passing by would have wondered if a military barracks had sprung from nowhere in the heart of the leafy and genteel Drachensee neighbourhood.

What touched Erich Kästner the most was the unprompted and sustained salutes that all the military men in the room executed, which he returned with equal fervour, turning away to hide the dampness in his eyes.

CHAPTER 2

In shirtsleeves, Captain Conrad Patzig sat at his desk. It was late, and the only light was the desk lamp illuminating the green leather writing surface.

He picked up the piece of paper from the top of the pile and wondered how things were going in Kiel. He reread the memo he’d received from the ministry nearly a week ago, and the reply he’d sent back a few days later.

~~o~~

Memo: Geh.KdoS. ABW 22/01/33 CAC0103.1

For Attention Only: Captain Conrad Patzig, Chef der Abwehr

From: General der Infanterie Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord, Chef der Heeresleitung

In the light of the unprecedented upsurge of support for Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist Party, and their possible victory in an election in the foreseeable future, restructuring and massive expansion of the German armed forces is expected. Any future NSDAP government will almost certainly utilise its own internal intelligence services, probably under the auspices of the Schutzstaffel (SS), headed by Heinrich Himmler and reporting directly to Adolf Hitler. There is some evidence that a subdivision of this organisation, Sicherheitsdienst des Reichsführers-SS (SD) will be directly responsible for national intelligence.

It is therefore of paramount importance that the armed forces retain and expand the Abwehr as an independent military intelligence organisation. In light of this, there are several appointments that need to be filled to ensure that the armed forces work together to minimise intolerable political interference. A list is attached of the new appointments necessary but one of the key positions is a naval liaison officer who will facilitate collaboration between the Abwehr, the Reichsheer and the Reichsmarine. This posting will be based largely in Kiel, within the Naval Operational Headquarters. Please search for suitable candidates and inform me of your findings by 28th January.

A person of rank greater than Colonel would be preferred as it is important that senior naval and army officers should deal with someone of an equivalent rank. An appropriate candidate may, if necessary, be promoted to said rank. [End]

~~o~~

Memo: Geh.KdoS. ABW 24/01/33 CAC0103.2

For Attention Only: General der Infanterie Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord, Chef der Heeresleitung

From: Captain Conrad Patzig, Chef der Abwehr.

After due diligence, the search has shown up two ideal candidates. Captain Wilhelm Canaris would be at the top of the list, having had significant experience of working in the field as a naval intelligence officer. However, there have been a few questions on his handling of the Lohmann affair. Despite this, I sounded him out about the position, but he has just taken command of a naval training vessel and would prefer to retain that commission at present.

The second candidate has recently retired as an active general in the Reichswehr. He lives in Kiel and has excellent contacts within both services, his father being a retired admiral. He is a close friend of Captain Canaris, and indeed, during my discussions with the captain, it was the latter who suggested that General Kästner would be ideal for the position, and that he might welcome an approach from us.

Captain Canaris also offered to make an initial discreet contact with the General to assess his interest in our proposal. He will be attending the General’s retirement dinner and will report back to me as soon as possible. [END]

~~o~~

After dessert, which was noisy and good-spirited with much discussion of the speeches and the food, the men retired to the study and the women drifted through to the large drawing room which faced out onto the garden. If it had been summer, they could have walked through the French windows, and admired the view of the moonlit lake through the gap in the trees, but the bitter freeze that had settled on Kiel since mid-December kept them inside.

The children remained with the women, impatient for the moment when Maria Kästner would release them from their social constraints, and they could find places in the far-flung corners of the large house to be children again.

The youngsters were all introduced in turn to a variety of matronly ladies, fidgeting whilst being coddled over and patted on the head, studying Maria for signs of disapproval if they were anything other than polite and deferential.

Ruth saw her father approach Franz and, with a gentle hand on his shoulder, whisper something in his ear. Franz looked around, surprised, and followed Yosef out of the room.

He’s joining the men, she thought, irritated, but glad that she and the others would soon be released to play, away from the stifled world of the grown-ups. It’s his own fault that he’s going to miss out.

She turned back to the tall, elegant lady with the silver hair and rather large jewels and replied with the required politeness to her questions about school, and how she was enjoying the Christmas holidays.

~~o~~

Yosef and Franz crossed the hall, and the older man opened the door to the study and guided Franz through. His grandfather spotted him, and with a beaming smile, made his way towards him.

‘Franz, my boy, come, I’d like to introduce you to some fine gentlemen of my acquaintance.’

A silence fell on the room as all the men looked at Franz. He blushed under their scrutiny, but the deep hum of men discussing matters of a serious nature soon resumed, and Franz was introduced to the cream of Kiel’s military establishment.

Franz glanced at the door, his eyes seeking out Johann in the crowd outside, but he knew that any resentment his brother harboured at his elder sibling’s induction into the adult world wouldn’t be sustained; Johann would be bored and he’d itch to run free, once the novelty had worn off.

~~o~~

A short while after Franz’s departure, his mother indicated that so long as they kept the noise down and didn’t disturb the adults, the children could go and play.

As the eldest, it was up to Johann to choose the first game, and Ruth was delighted when he decided that hide-and-seek would be the most fun and would keep the younger ones occupied.

When he made himself the seeker the first time, and began his count, Ruth didn’t follow the others, figuring that the best spot to hide would be amongst the adults; the last place Johann would expect to find her was back in the world of boredom and monotony.

She slipped unnoticed into the drawing room once his back was turned and scuttled behind one of the long heavy drapes that hung to the floor, covering the French windows which faced the lake. The glass was cold on her back, but she suffered it, wanting to impress Johann with her cleverness.

Despite being five-and-a-bit years older and, in her eyes, tremendously grown up, he was still fun to be with, and willing to join in their childish games, forgetting that he was on the verge of adulthood, postponing the time when he could no longer exist without a care in the world.

‘Don’t you just think he’s wonderful,’ she’d confided to Antje, Johann’s younger sister, in a moment of unguarded candour.

‘Yuk, he’s horrible, and he’s a boy. You’re so silly.’ Antje’s scathing reply hadn’t dulled her admiration for Johann, but it made her cautious about ever telling anyone again about her affections for him. Fortunately for Ruth, Antje had either forgotten her words, or didn’t feel the desire to needle her about it; either way, not until they were much older, would Antje mention Ruth’s infatuation again.

As she waited, her mind roamed, and she imagined a future when Johann would be a famous young Reichsheer officer, and she would be the elegant young lady on his arm. She was so diverted by her imagination, that she was taken by surprise when a voice interrupted her daydream.

‘Franz is such a serious and respectful young man, and they are expecting great things of him.’

She recognised the voice of Frau Böhm, the Kästners’ immediate neighbour.

‘Yes,’ she heard a second woman reply. ‘Franz takes after the General, Johann is more like his Aunt Traudl. Marrying Heiner Weib was her saving grace.’

Ruth frowned. The woman’s voice sounded familiar, and she tried to put a face to it.

Who is she?

‘They say Franz will go far in the army. He’s already a cadet captain.’

‘I hear he and your daughter are stepping out together.’

‘I wouldn’t say that, although Franz does seem besotted by my Lise. He has been since Grundschule.’

‘They would make a lovely couple, and it would be a good catch for Lise.’

Ruth could almost feel Frau Böhm stiffen.

‘Most certainly, but quite a catch for young Franz too. My Lise was voted as the most popular girl in her form at school and she always comes out in the top three or four at her studies.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean anything. Lise is a most beautiful young lady and I’m sure she has many admirers. But the Kästners are such a well-connected family and, needless to say, General Kästner and his father have both won the highest honours; the General has an Iron Cross, you know.’

‘You’re right, most assuredly, although my Eberhard… I shouldn’t really be telling you this… he’s been more or less told he will head his section this year, when that horrible man, Shlossberg, is gone. He’s a Jew, you know.’

‘You must be delighted. Eberhard has worked exceedingly hard for it, and he is of good German blood. I only hope he gets it.’

‘Of course he will,’ Frau Böhm snapped, then tried to cover her slip. ‘It’s only a matter of time. I’m sure Herr Hitler will win the next election, and after that…’

‘I know, isn’t it exciting. He’s such a compelling speaker. I get such a thrill when I hear him on the wireless.’

‘I don’t think…’ She paused and lowered her voice. ‘I’m not sure that the Kästners are awfully keen on him. I mean, that speech the General made was hardly an endorsement.’

‘I know what you mean. But then again, they are a bit cosy with their own Jews, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, you’re right. I mean, as if having their servants’ children sitting at the same table as my Lise and Eberhard Junior isn’t bad enough, being Jews only makes it worse. I sometimes wonder if Lise would be better off marrying someone else, but who can get in the way of young love?’

‘I wouldn’t worry. The Nussbaums are very discreet; almost like real Germans.’

‘I know, and if the National Socialists get into power and clean things up a bit, they could always be moved on.’

‘You don’t have any problems with your staff, do you? Ours are from very old German serving families.’

Ruth almost managed a grin through the tears that were running down her cheeks. The Böhms only had one maid, who came in three times a week to clean. Frau Böhm was forever complaining about her.

‘Our maid is excellent,’ Frau Böhm said, ‘and definitely not tainted with any non-German blood. I sometimes wonder what I would do without her.’

‘I know exactly what you mean. Two of our staff are from Bavaria, and they took a while to adjust to our ways, but they’re fine now. The other is local, and do you know, he’s probably the least reliable.’

Ruth tried hard to imagine the tight anger in Frau Böhm’s face, and the victorious smirk of her adversary, then she heard someone approaching. Thinking it might be Johann, she pulled herself further against the glass, making sure that her feet weren’t poking out.

‘Ladies, how are you both? Did you get enough to eat? Can I get someone to refill your glasses?’

It was Tante Maria. They were only permitted to call her Aunt when they were alone, the Kästners and the Nussbaums. At all other times it was Ma’am or Frau Kästner.

Frau Böhm replied, her voice sickly sweet.

‘Another glass of wine would be lovely. The food was exquisite. And it was lovely seeing all the children together. They get on so well, especially your Franz and my Lise.’

‘We always try and include the children. Franz and Lise are getting so grown up now, and Franz will attend military academy next year. My baby, out into the wide world. It seems no time at all since they were all in their prams. I shouldn’t fret, really; it’s his chance to see more of the world.’

‘I hope he doesn’t forget us,’ Frau Böhm said, with a brittle laugh. ‘Perhaps Lise and he should exchange friendship rings.’

‘I feel they’re probably a little young for that, but I’m sure they’ll make up their own minds.’

The third woman spoke. Ruth recognised her now. Her husband was the man who wore the chain around his neck; the mayor, or was he just a deputy, like in the cowboy films? The children called them Herr and Frau Kartoffelkopf, due to the matching shape and size of the couple’s heads, which resembled potatoes.

‘I’ve been told that young soldiers like to sow some oats before they settle down; and they say that sailors have a girl in every port.’

Ruth stifled a giggle. Frau Potato-Head had just gone up in her estimation. The Böhm woman obviously couldn’t conjure up a suitable response.

Frau Kästner called for the ladies’ glasses to be filled, and Ruth identified the faint scent of her mother’s perfume as footsteps approached. Already motionless, she froze quite still, hardly breathing, as if her mother would be able to sense her presence so close by.

‘Thank you, Miriam,’ said Frau Böhm, ‘the dinner was quite delicious. You should be tremendously pleased with yourself. You must have worked all day in the kitchen.’

‘Miriam has been on the go since six this morning. I’m sure she deserves a rest now,’ said Frau Kästner. ‘Miriam, fetch a glass and pour a wine for yourself, and join us.’

Ruth could imagine Frau Böhm’s disapproving frown and her mother’s fleeting blush.

‘Thanks, but perhaps I might join you later, Frau Kästner. I’m afraid there’s still too much needing to be done.’

Ruth heard her mother walk away.

‘She’s such an asset to you,’ the deputy-mayor’s wife said, but will you be able to hold onto the Nussbaums once Herr Hitler is elected?’

Ruth held her breath again.

‘The Nussbaums have been with us for nearly fifty years and for two generations. They’re part of the furniture. I’m sure the National Socialists will not be the slightest bit interested in them. And my husband and my father-in-law do have a little bit of influence, you know.’

‘That may be true, Maria,’ said Frau Böhm, ‘but times are changing, and in modern Germany, things may become somewhat different from the way they are now.’

Ruth couldn’t have explained how she knew, but she realised that these women who, on the surface, were good friends, disliked each other intensely. Sometimes the girls at school acted in a similar way and she wondered if it would be the same when she and her classmates became adults.

Frau Kästner excused herself and moved away to talk to another group on the opposite side of the room. The two ladies spoke for a while in rueful tones about their host’s need to recognise that society was changing, then, realising that Maria Kästner was at the centre of a group of influential ladies, they sidled over to join them. In the quietness behind the curtain, Ruth didn’t know what to think, but she felt that somehow her world had shifted, and she wanted to ask her parents what it meant.

‘BOO!’

She jumped and screamed at the same time, tripping over the folds of the curtains and landing in a heap at Johann’s feet. He doubled over with laughter, tears running down his face.

‘You are rotten, Johann Kästner. You scared me.’

‘That’s what you get for being so sneaky, hiding in here.’

‘It took ages for you to find me,’ she said, her cheeks flushed, but she could see that despite the laughter, there was a grudging respect in his manner that a girl had outwitted him for so long, and one that much younger than him.

‘You were the last to be found. I suppose that counts for something.’

She felt warmed by his praise and resolved that one day she would be his wife, when she had grown up.

Frau Kästner came over to see what the fuss was, and she scolded Johann for frightening Ruth and causing a commotion, but Ruth could see the smile in her eyes as she steered them out of the room to find the other children.

‘The men will return soon, and I’d like you to play and sing a little for everybody before you all go to bed. If you’re awfully good, we will all have a game of charades before you go.’

~~o~~

Franz stood and listened, fascinated. How many cadets at my school would get the chance to be surrounded by men like these?

The group he stood among boasted some of the most formidable military brains that Germany could muster, and the civilians scattered among them were all men of stature too. He moved around the room, listening to snatches of their conversations.

‘…and the latest unemployment figures in Kiel are the darkest ever…’

‘…no real recovery since the Wall Street Crash in ’29…’

‘Every second shop in Kiel is boarded up…’

‘…even with Roosevelt elected, the Americans aren’t interested in what is going on in Europe; they’re not going to interfere.’

He wandered over to stand by the group talking to his father and grandfather.

‘But do we have the infrastructure in place to support such an expansion?’ his grandfather was saying.

‘Not quite, but we are better prepared than the politicians realise.’ This was from Oberst Rolf Kummetz. ‘We have von Seeckt to thank for that.’

Franz looked lost, and the colonel noticed his confusion.

‘My boy, you are about to enter an army that is, in one way, a shadow of the one that fought in the Great War. We lost that war, and there’s no point in raking over the coals as to why that was, but the result of that defeat was a grossly punitive economic and military clampdown which suppressed any hope Germany had of recovering after the war was over and was, in the main, a sop to France and her fear of our great country. What are they teaching you about it at that military academy you attend?’

‘The Treaty of Versailles,’ Franz blurted, his stomach churning. ‘It limited us to an army of just over 100,000 men, and a navy of twelve capital ships and the same number of destroyers. No air force or submarines.’

‘Quite so, Franz. But they forgot about German ingenuity and efficiency. After the war was over, when General von Seeckt was forced to trim the army down, he retained the brightest and best officers and loaded the remaining regiments with these men, your father among them, with no sentiment for tradition or for war heroes. He concentrated his tactics on speed, aggression and the abilities of his commanders and lower officers to use their initiative and exploit opportunities. When the army gets the chance to blood its swords, in the fullness of time, this core of expertise at officer level will allow it to expand rapidly while retaining discipline and competence across the board.’

A moustached man in a colonel’s dress uniform spoke up.

‘He also utilised the police force to give men basic military training. When the time comes to expand the army, these men will fill the ranks of our new regiments.’

Oskar von Friedeburg, one of his father’s friends, added his contribution.

‘Our Soviet allies, while still a threat, have also been of immense benefit. In return for our help with their industrialisation, we have been able to develop our own engineering and chemical expertise to prepare for a massive expansion in German industrial output. We have also secured sources for all the raw materials we need, primarily through Russia and Sweden.’

‘And the Reichsmarine will respond in a similar fashion,’ Admiral Albrecht interjected. ‘All our current fighting vessels are overstaffed with officers, but this means that trained captains, lieutenants and midshipmen will be ready and available when the need arises. The merchant navy is awash with suitable ratings to crew the new ships that they will build, here in Kiel and in Wilhelmshaven.’

‘And what about submarines?’ Franz said, the words out before he remembered the company he was in. ‘Will we not need them?’

There was a murmur around the room.

‘Ah, I see the boy is a chip off the old block, and the even older block.’

The men all laughed, and Franz blushed.

‘You are quite right, Franz,’ the admiral continued. ‘Contingencies have been made for that, too, but let’s not worry about the detail.’ He paused.

‘Why submarines, young man?’ Admiral Albrecht said.

Franz gulped, wishing he’d kept quiet, but he saw his grandfather and father smile at him, so he answered the admiral’s question.

‘We have too small a navy and not enough seaports to compete with the British in the Atlantic, and Helgoland is vulnerable, so the Nordsee will still be dominated by the British. We can control the Baltic from Kiel with our surface ships but, to make an impact outside, in the Nordsee and the Atlantic, we will need submarines.’

A murmur of admiration for the boy’s pluck travelled around the room. A few of the men turned to their neighbours and commented. The admiral looked Franz in the eye and smiled.

‘You have got to the nub of the problem, my boy.’ He looked around the room. ‘If only our politicians were as perceptive as young Franz here!’

Again, laughter filled the study, and most of those present nodded in assent.

‘Were you taught this, or did you come to this conclusion yourself?’

‘One of our teachers, Captain Schwarz, teaches us military history. He likes to have us discuss and rationalise the past and how it affects the future.’

‘This Captain Schwarz sounds an interesting man. Perhaps we should have a word with him.’

There were more laughs, and Franz’s stomach lurched again.

‘I hope I haven’t got him into any trouble,’ he stuttered, his palms sweating. ‘He’s one of my best teachers. It’s just a small group of us he takes for these discussions.’

‘Don’t you worry, Franz. Far from getting Captain Schwarz into trouble, you may just have earned him a promotion. We need people like him who are willing to recognise the cream of our youth and develop them; not just into soldiers, sailors and airmen, but into intelligent and quick-thinking officers.’

Franz looked dazed from all the attention and the unexpected questions he’d been asked. The General put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

‘I think my son has had enough for now, and it is time to rejoin the ladies, gentlemen; as much as I have enjoyed your company, let us move through to the drawing room.’

Franz cast a relieved look at his father, who winked at him. He felt a squeeze on his arm and looked round to see his grandfather smiling.

~~o~~

When Franz looked back, it struck him that he’d been ushered gently into the world of adulthood that evening.

They’d sat in the kitchen after most of the guests left. Antje had been sent to bed, and Eva and Johann had soon bored of the adults and their interminable dullness and had made their way up the stairs to their rooms.

Yosef and Miriam had finished clearing up and Miriam accepted a glass of wine from Frau Kästner but, as soon as they could, without appearing impolite, the Nussbaums gathered up the sleeping Manny, took Ruth’s hand and headed for their own quarters in the two-storey cottage set apart from the main house. Maria and her mother-in-law also made their excuses, leaving the kitchen to the men.

And Franz.

The General opened the whisky bottle and poured four generous glasses. Captain Canaris pulled a glass towards him and added some water from the small jug on the table. Oskar von Friedeburg fetched a couple of ice cubes from the Kästner’s icebox. Admiral Kästner and the General sipped the amber fluid neat from the glass.

As if in afterthought, the General poured a small measure into a fifth glass and added some water. He handed it to his son. ‘Take your time with it,’ he whispered.

Captain Canaris reached for the bottle, then tilted it away from him to read the label.

‘Macallan, eh?’ he said. ‘Your tastes are getting more expensive, Kästner.’

‘I’m always searching for the perfect malt. I import it directly from Fortnum and Mason’s in London. It’s my only indulgence. The love of Scotch Whisky is one of the many things my father instilled in me.’

The old admiral gave his son a benign smile.

‘I acquired a taste for it when I visited Portsmouth, back in late 1890,’ he said, ‘when the British were still talking to us.’

Canaris took a sip, nodded in appreciation, and looked directly at the General.

‘You shouldn’t have spoken as you did earlier, in front of all your guests.’

The General wasn’t surprised that Canaris had mentioned his comments. He didn’t respond but waited for his friend to expand on his statement.

‘First of all, I know you consider them all as friends and that you can trust them, but these are becoming dangerous times, and you should learn to trust no one.’

The General shrugged. ‘So, you’re saying I’m naïve?’

‘More or less. Anyway, it so happens that I agree with much of what the National Socialists and Herr Hitler stand for, although I don’t always condone their methods. If you must disagree, as many senior officers in the armed forces do, I would strongly advise you to be discreet about it. Sooner or later, they will take power, and they may not tolerate dissent.’

The General turned to his son.

‘Franz, I first met Captain Canaris when he served as a junior officer under your grandfather. It was at Kieler Woche, in 1905, I think.’

Kieler Woche. Kiel Week. The most prestigious sailing regatta in Germany.

The admiral corrected him.

‘It was 1906, not 5. I had command of the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, and Canaris was a young upstart second lieutenant who caught my eye. The ship was back in Kiel for a refit; she was built at the Germaniawerft shipyard, you know, and I invited Canaris to watch the racing at Kieler Woche with us.’

The old man smiled at Franz.

‘Your father,’ he continued, ‘who was a mere lieutenant back then, was racing in one of the army yachts, and we all went out for one or two drinks afterwards, and some Bratwurst, if I remember. They’ve been the best of friends ever since.’

The General laughed. ‘And since then, he’s had this irritating habit of trying to tell me how to run my life.’

‘It’s sound advice, my friend.’

Oskar von Friedeburg rarely said anything that wasn’t of significance.

‘I have dealings every day with the National Socialists,’ the wealthy businessman continued. ‘In my position I have no option, but I agree with the captain. They do have the drive and the ideas to lift this country out of the mess it’s in, and although some of their methods and beliefs are not to our taste, we may have to live with them for the greater good. It was almost inevitable once Adolf Hitler was elected the leader of the National Socialists.’

‘It wasn’t as clear-cut as that,’ the General retorted. ‘The attempted coup of 1923, the famous Beer Hall Putsch, failed, and the party had to regroup, and start again.’ Franz could see the vein in his father’s neck engorge as he spoke.

He’d heard his father talk about Hitler and the National Socialist Party before, and wished he weren’t quite so fervent. He and his classmates at school were all members of Hitlerjugend. He smiled. Being part of the Hitler Youth movement gave them all so many opportunities; the association even had a national sailing team and there were hundreds of activities and visits to go on. One of the best had been attending a rally Adolf Hitler himself had spoken at, and they’d all found the party leader mesmerising.

He hadn’t risked telling his father that he’d been chosen as part of the Hitlerjugend sailing team, and that their first competitive race would take place during this year’s Kieler Woche, whose races attracted boats from all over the world.

‘I mean,’ the General conceded, ‘they have done a remarkable job; they came from nowhere to be the second-biggest party in Germany