Raven

By Mark Roddy

In mid-1943, at the behest of their Japanese allies, the Germans send their best agent, Johann Schmidt, code name “RAVEN”, to sabotage the U.S. Navy’s torpedo factory in Newport, Rhode Island.

Cunning, intelligent, resourceful, and utterly ruthless, Schmidt arrives off the Rhode Island coast by German U-boat, seemingly undetected. The agent then succeeds in getting on to the Newport Navy Base and finds employment there. This aids Schmidt in discovering the location of the Navy’s bulk explosives storage site: Rose Island, located in the middle of the Eastern Passage of Narragansett Bay, one mile west of Newport.

However, through cooperation between the British Intelligence Service MI6 and the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), and aided by a stroke of luck, RAVEN’s arrival is discovered. The FBI assigns one of their best counterespionage agents, Brian Weeple, to track down and capture and/or eliminate the saboteur. But Schmidt is not who everyone assumes him to be, significantly complicating the search.

Will Schmidt’s secret identity be discovered, and can RAVEN be caught and stopped before the assignment is carried out?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781649794635

Mark Roddy

Mark Roddy is a retired US Air Force officer, whose 24-year active-duty career consisted of 12 different assignments around the world, including two tours in Germany. Mark earned a Bachelor of Arts degree, with honors in English Literature from Saint Michael’s College, and a master’s degree in International Relations from Troy University. He has previously published the novels The Third Day and Angela’s Letter. Mark lived in Rhode Island while in high school and college. Today, he lives in Northern Virginia, with his wife of 50 years, Dawn, whom he met when both were on active duty in the Air Force.

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About the Author

Mark Roddy is a retired US Air Force officer, whose 24-year active-duty career consisted of 12 different assignments around the world, including two tours in Germany.

Mark earned a Bachelor of Arts degree, with honors in English Literature from Saint Michael’s College, and a master’s degree in International Relations from Troy University. He has previously published the novels The Third Day and Angela’s Letter.

Mark lived in Rhode Island while in high school and college. Today, he lives in Northern Virginia, with his wife of 50 years, Dawn, whom he met when both were on active duty in the Air Force.

Dedication

To my dad, Paul, whose marvelous storytelling and writing skills were the inspiration for this book.

Copyright Information ©

Mark Roddy 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Roddy, Mark

RAVEN

ISBN 9781649794529 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781649794505 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781649794635 (ePub e-book)

ISBN 9781649794628 (Audiobook)

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

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Acknowledgment

Sometimes when I read a piece of fiction, I wonder what motivated the author besides feeling there was a particular story to tell. The genesis of RAVEN started in the late 1960s when I spent college summers with my parents at their home in Southern Rhode Island. My dad occasionally mentioned that there had been millions of pounds of explosives stored under Newport harbor during World War II. After I graduated from college and became a US Air Force aircraft maintenance officer, that thought never left me, particularly when I was dealing with all kinds of munitions at various times in my career.

The story got another boost in the early 2000s when my sister, Debbie, sent me a DVD: ‘Historic Lighthouses of Rhode Island’. In the video, the narrator tells how Rose Island, which lies about a half mile off the west coast of Aquidneck Island – the piece of land on which Newport rests – was a US Navy World War II storage site for millions of pounds of explosives used in producing torpedoes. That really got me thinking: What if a German saboteur had gone to Newport to try and destroy those explosives and, perhaps, most of Rhode Island in the process? Thus, the plot of RAVEN was born.

In bringing this story to life, I have had a lot of help I want to acknowledge. Mr. John W. Kennedy, former Director of Education at the Naval War College Museum in Newport, suggested I read two books: Walter K. Schroder’s book Defenses of Narragansett Bay in World War II and Annie Sherman’s Legendary Locals of Newport. Both books proved invaluable in adding detail and local color to the novel.

My son, US Navy Senior Chief Petty Officer, Al Roddy, made sure those portions of the narrative which deal with and take place on a World War II navy destroyer read true.

Ms. Pam Gasner, the executive director of the Block Island Historical Society, also provided valuable information concerning that wonderful place. Mr. Nathaniel Patch and Mr. Nathaniel Wiltzen, archivists with the National Archives, gave me good leads on background information such as maps and other documents related to Rose Island, Newport, and Narragansett Bay.

My friend, Mark Kramer, helped ensure the portion of the book dealing with a visit by the one of the main characters to a fictional Jewish synagogue in Newport properly reflected what a visitor would see in such a special building.

Personnel who worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI) play a major role in this novel. Mr. Ray Connolly and Mr. Kevin O’Brien, both retired FBI agents, whom I am privileged to count as friends, were instrumental in ensuring the agents in the book accurately reflect the way FBI agents would have dealt with the issues these characters face.

I would also like to thank Ms. Debra S. Satkowiak, the president of the Institute of Makers of Explosives (IME), and Doctor Joshua M. Hoffman, IME’s director of technical services, who provided invaluable information concerning the storage and handling of explosives so critical to the story’s plotline.

A key plot point in the novel involves issues the US Navy was having with their torpedoes at this time. Background information on this issue came from the book Silent Victory: The US Submarine War against Japan by Clay Blair, Jr.

Finally, my biggest thanks go to my wife, Dawn. She has been my cheerleader, sounding board, historian, and morale booster throughout my time in writing this book. Quite honestly, if there had been no Dawn, there would have been no RAVEN.

My thanks to all of these wonderful people for their time, effort, and interest in RAVEN. If you enjoy reading this book half as much as I enjoyed writing it, you have these folks to thank.

–Mark Roddy

Narragansett Bay Eastern Passage and Newport, Rhode Island

Circa mid-1940s

Map courtesy of US Department of Commerce US Coast and Geodetic Survey

Block Island, Rhode Island

Map courtesy of US Department of Commerce US Coast and Geodetic Survey

Rose Island, west of Newport, Rhode Island

Circa 1943

Map courtesy of Historic American Engineering Record, National Park Service, Artist Todd A. Croteau: 2000

Chapter 1

Mid May, 1943

Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, the chief of "Abwehr – the German Military Intelligence Organization, did not look up from the maps he was studying as he heard the soft knock on his office door, which then opened. Yes, Franz?" was all he said, with his back to the door, the maps consuming his attention.

Herr Admiral, Herr Schmidt is here. The Admiral’s right arm made a waving motion to his aide, Lieutenant Franz Mueller.

Send him in, Franz, and bring coffee and strudel as well, please.

Yes sir. Lieutenant Mueller turned to look at the impeccably dressed and coifed individual standing before him. Johann Schmidt was not particularly tall – only about five feet, five inches or so – but possessed of a well-trimmed moustache and goatee and perfectly-parted and slicked-down dirty, blond-colored hair. Schmidt’s erect bearing and tailored suit fit perfectly the well-toned body of a champion athlete. But what struck Mueller the most were the eyes: pale and piercing blue but seemingly devoid of any emotion, hiding behind a pair of lightly tinted and expensive wireframe glasses.

The Admiral will see you now, Herr Schmidt. Schmidt nodded in what could only be regarded as a combination of acknowledgment and a thank you and walked silently past the aide into the Admiral’s office. Mueller did not sense any attitude of condescension or disdain from the other man as he walked by him; but whether it was out of jealousy of the man’s apparent wealth (and reputation) or because this person seemed to be one of his Admiral’s favorites, Mueller felt a twinge of anger toward Schmidt. Mueller was an old and trusted staff member of the Admiral, and he did not take well to new members joining the elite inner circle around Canaris, a group of which there were only four or five members.

While seemingly oblivious to Mueller’s feelings, Schmidt had picked up on them in earlier visits and ignored them. To Schmidt, Mueller was a doorkeeper, someone to be given the same attention or lack thereof as would be given to, say, the doorman at a fine Berlin hotel or restaurant. He merely served to let you in to the real object of your trip: a nice room, a fine meal, or in this case, the probability of a new assignment for one of Canaris’s top agents, code-named ‘RAVEN’ but known to the Admiral’s staff as ‘Johann Schmidt.’

Once inside the Admiral’s office, Schmidt proceeded with the raised right-arm Nazi salute, simultaneously calling out, Heil Hitler, loud enough to be heard by Mueller as he closed the door. Schmidt’s greeting was met by another wave of Canaris’s arm as the salute was, like everything else so far, rendered to the back of Canaris’s uniform while he continued to study the maps on the side table in his office.

Yes, yes. Good afternoon, Johann. The Admiral straightened up, turned, and walked toward Schmidt, extending his right hand as he got closer to the other person in his office. My congratulations on the success of your latest mission, Johann. Brilliantly executed, brilliantly. Schmidt shook the other man’s hand with a firm grasp and bowed slightly in response to the compliment. Schmidt liked the praise but was more interested in the sizeable bounty which accompanied each success. Those were what paid for the fine suits, shoes, and manicures, etc. Life in the field was hard and rough. Schmidt liked to enjoy the pleasures of Berlin to the fullest when the missions were over. Schmidt believed in anything that fostered and supported the rise and success of the Third Reich because inevitably that meant more work for the Abwehr’s top agent: RAVEN. Nazi conquests in Europe served Schmidt’s deep-seated passions: material wealth and another, more personal and well-hidden need; one hid from everyone, including Canaris. Nevertheless, both were served by Schmidt’s missions.

Thank you, Herr Admiral. It was a… Schmidt paused, searching for the proper term, a most interesting and challenging assignment. The agent looked out the window thinking about the number of people killed on this assignment and the way they had been dispatched and smiled. RAVEN then looked at the Admiral again, who was studying his agent carefully but unobtrusively as befitted Germany’s top intelligence officer. Schmidt continued, Plus, Paris is so beautiful this time of year, as a slight but humorless smile spread across the agent’s lips.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by it being opened by Lieutenant Mueller as another member of the Admiral’s inner circle, Chief Petty Officer Werner Kempf, walked in carrying a large tray. Kempf was now a gourmet chef, but he had started out as a cook on one of the Admiral’s submarines during World War I. After the war, Canaris had Kempf sent to the finest culinary schools in Berlin. He then set up his old shipmate with a job in one of the grandest restaurants in Nuremburg. As the Nazis started their climb to power, the Admiral had asked Kempf to rejoin him as his personal chef. Canaris saw the paranoia and inherent ruthlessness of some of Hitler’s inner circle and he wanted to make sure he had control over as much of his living environment, including the food he ate, to ensure he could keep on living.

One of Kempf’s true specialties was strudel, and two warm pieces caught the eyes and nose of Schmidt as the chef, beaming to be in the presence of his friend and boss, brought in the tray with the pastry and a pot of what Schmidt knew would be the best cup of coffee in Berlin. Canaris pointed to a table on the opposite side of the room from the one covered with maps. Come, Johann, let us sit over here. We will drink our coffee, eat our strudel, and talk.

Canaris turned toward Chief Kempf who, being intimately familiar with the Admiral’s ways, had set the table and poured the coffee into two cups, leaving room for the cream the Admiral would add to his. He also put one piece of strudel on each plate, while silently pointing out to Canaris the covered dish which the Admiral knew held a second piece for him to enjoy later. Thank you, Werner. Canaris then looked at Lieutenant Mueller who had never strayed from the door. Thank you, Franz. I do not wish to be disturbed. Mueller bowed slightly in response to the Admiral’s request.

Of course, Herr Admiral, Mueller answered and then silently closed the door but not before one last less-than-friendly glance at Schmidt. Mueller couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something not quite right about Schmidt.

There was a brief period of silence as the Admiral and Schmidt sat and ate the strudel and drank the first cup of coffee. After a while, Canaris broke the silence. Some things, like good strudel, should not be disturbed by conversation. Do you not agree, Johann? Schmidt nodded his agreement. Canaris knew Schmidt to be a person of few words and he also knew the reason why. It was one of the many things Canaris admired about Schmidt. He also realized this was one of Schmidt’s greatest assets. So, Johann, are you ready for another challenge? One which will take you far away, perhaps to a new life as well? Schmidt cocked an eyebrow indicating interest; the gesture did not go unnoticed.

Canaris stood up and poured himself another cup of coffee and added some cream. Refill your cup and then join me at the other table, Johann. I want to show you something. Schmidt refilled the cup and followed the Admiral to the table strewn with maps. Canaris was pointing to one in particular. Immediately, Schmidt noticed all the writing and markings on the map were in English. Do you recognize this place, Johann?

Schmidt moved closer to the map, took in the legend, and nodded. Yes, Admiral, this is Narragansett Bay on the east coast of the United States. He looked at the map again. Yes, it is in the eastern part of the state they call Rhode Island. He then pointed to a large island on the right side of the map. This is Newport, where the US Navy has a large presence.

"That is correct, Johann. It is also where I need you to go for your next mission. We have been asked by our Japanese allies to see if one of our agents can sabotage the American navy’s torpedo program. I have selected you for this mission.

We know the American Navy is having problems with their torpedoes, but the Japanese are worried they are close to solving those problems. They are most vulnerable to and thus very concerned about the American submarine fleet in the Pacific. Canaris tapped his finger on the rendition of Newport on the map. Newport is one of the two major torpedo testing and manufacturing sites in the United States. The other is in California. With the American’s paranoia about anyone of Asian descent, and the extra security on the West Coast because of their fear of a Japanese invasion, the Japanese have no hope of getting anywhere near either the West Coast facilities or the ones in Newport. The Admiral looked at Schmidt. You, however, are fluent in English, you are a master of disguise, you are smart, and you are most ruthless. Therefore, you are perfect for this assignment.

And just what would my assignment be, Herr Admiral? Schmidt asked while still looking at the map.

Canaris stroked his clean-shaven chin. Well, ideally, to blow the place off the map, but short of that, anything you can do to slow down the Americans in resolving their torpedo problems and their taking actions to put those solutions into practice would be most helpful.

What are their problems, Admiral?

We’re not certain, Johann. We have heard rumors about the torpedoes not running at the proper depth. We’ve also heard there might be a problem with the firing mechanism or perhaps with the explosives in the torpedoes. We do know the commander of their Pacific Fleet feels this is his top problem. We also know the American Navy munitions bureaucracy feels the problem is inexperienced submarine commanders who don’t know how to shoot the torpedoes.

Canaris looked away from the table to a large painting of a World War I U-boat which hung over the table. It was the U-34, a submarine Canaris had commanded in early 1918 in the Mediterranean. Ah, those idiots in the American munitions bureau, he said as he shook his head. I will bet you, Johann, that half of them have never seen a torpedo and probably none of them have ever been on a submarine during a firing exercise or in actual combat. But they know how to solve the problem. Again, he shook his head. Idiots, was all he said out loud. But not unlike the National Socialist Party leadership today, he thought to himself.

I have never been on a U-boat, Herr Admiral. So, I guess that makes me an idiot too, sir. Schmidt said, ending with a slight smile…as if the agent had just made a clever joke. Canaris thought so, laughing and clapping his smaller companion on the shoulder, remarking to himself how hard and muscular Schmidt’s body seemed to be.

Now that is something we are going to correct on this mission, Johann. A U-boat will take you to the United States. Here, look, he added, directing Schmidt’s attention to another map. Schmidt realized it was a different rendering of the east coast of Rhode Island, but this time it was a map of an island off the mainland. You will be set ashore here, Johann, on this island: ‘Block Island’ it is called. It is about twenty kilometers off the southeast coast of Rhode Island. There is regular ferry service there directly to Newport, but you will take the ferry that runs to this port. His finger stabbed at a point on the south cost of the Rhode Island mainland. "It is called ‘Point Judith.’

We have an agent in place on Block Island and she will help you once you get there. She will also help you get to the mainland and on your way to Newport. Once you get to Newport, you are on your own. With the pressure being placed on the munitions bureau by the American Pacific Fleet Commander, I suspect the navy base at Newport will be looking to hire anyone they deem trustworthy for all sorts of tasks not directly related to the torpedo issues. That would free up sailors and others to work those issues. If you can get on the base – and I know you can – eventually, you can get in a position to do some harm to their program.

He pointed to a small island off the western shore of Newport. Here is something else to consider. We believe this island is where they store their high explosives. There is an old military fort there… Canaris peered intently at the map. "Let me see. Ah yes. Look here, Johann. You can see the name: ‘Fort Hamilton.’ This might be a potential target if you can figure a way to get off the island before it blows up. We have reason to believe the US Navy has over six hundred and fifty metric tons of high explosives stored there. If all that material exploded at once, the results would be catastrophic and widespread.

As I said, the issue would be ensuring you were far enough away to avoid being killed or injured in the blast. Perhaps some sort of a time-delay fuse, with which I know you have had success already, could make that possible. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it is a viable target, Johann. Schmidt studied the maps for a while, noting the name of the island Canaris had pointed out: ‘Rose Island,’ before looking at Canaris. Schmidt’s face had a puzzled look on it.

A question, if I may, Herr Admiral. Canaris nodded his approval.

Why not just have me get on an ocean liner or a plane and cruise or fly to the United States from, say, England? I am concerned about the use of one of our precious U-boats just to take me to someplace I could get to by other means.

"Other means, perhaps, Johann, but means over which I have no control. First, there is very little if any commercial ocean or air traffic now between Europe and America. Even if there was, we would first have to get you back to England, then get the necessary visas and such. As you have not been in England for some time now, that could raise suspicions and lead to the authorities tracking you or even detaining you. The English are very good at discovering anomalies in one’s past.

"Even if you were not detained, we would still have to get you on a boat or a plane and get you to a neutral country and port, like Lisbon, Portugal. From there, you would most likely have to travel to South America and then find your way up to the United States. That would take a lot of time, which our Japanese allies would not appreciate! Additionally, because of the scarcity of commercial travel, such an itinerary involving a young man would almost certainly raise suspicions among the British and the Americans.

No, it is best to get you there by our own mode of transportation, Johann. Canaris leaned forward in his chair, smiled, and extended his right arm toward Schmidt. Besides, you are the most precious cargo. So, do not concern yourself with how we are ‘using’ our resources. I will make it worth the U-boat captain’s while to get you to Block Island and then to go off and do some hunting on his own.

Schmidt’s head nodded slightly. Very well, Admiral. Thank you for your explanation. What is the timeframe for my departure, and how soon do you expect results?

You will leave in four days. The commander of the U-boat who is to take you to America is due here for a briefing in fifteen minutes. His name is Commander Günter Rundberg. He is brave, daring, and a committed National Socialist. Canaris added that last part because he had not yet deciphered what it was, besides money, which motivated Schmidt. Thus, he didn’t want to take any chances if Schmidt was a committed Nazi as well. Canaris was also looking for some sort of signal to help fathom the spy’s political leanings. Schmidt gave no such signal.

That sounds excellent, Herr Admiral. May I presume you will give him your standard admonition; how I am to be left alone as much as possible and not to be addressed by any of the crew except if I address them first? Other than, of course, in the case of some emergency.

Yes, Johann, it will be so.

Thank you, Herr Admiral. I know we will have another meeting in a day or two to go over more of the details of your plan…and to discuss my compensation, particularly in light of your most intriguing comment about me ‘possibly starting a new life in the Americas’? Canaris looked slightly pained.

"Oh yes, that. Please forgive me, Johann. I forgot that part; I got focused on the mission. Not a proper move for a Kreigsmarine Naval officer! Yes, your future. Our plan is for you to leave the United States by way of Canada after you successfully complete your mission. The border between Canada and their southern neighbor seems to be more porous than trying to get you off American soil by a U-boat extraction. However, if all else fails, I believe I can safely say that with the successful completion of this mission, you will have done great service to the fatherland, and it might be to your, shall we say, advantage to disappear somewhere in the Americas?" Schmidt’s right eyebrow cocked up slightly.

You doubt the certainty of the Third Reich’s eventual success in this war, Herr Admiral?

Canaris hesitated for a moment, wondering if he might have overstepped the bounds of trust with his comment. The Admiral liked Schmidt and also felt he had some measure of control over the agent, partially because he was one of the only two people in the Abwehr who knew Schmidt’s full background story. That, and the fact Canaris had recruited Schmidt personally, made him feel he could be more open with Schmidt than with any of his other operatives. Now he wondered if he might have gone too far.

This will be a long mission for you, Johann; it could take months for you to complete it. And for the first time, you will have an ocean between you and the fatherland. Getting you back across that ocean, given the ebb and flow of war, will be challenging, to say the least. But naturally, we will try. Canaris paused for effect.

"I believe in and love Germany, Johann, and I greatly fear what would happen to our beloved country, especially if the Russians were to persevere and overrun our country from the east. It is only a matter of time until the western allies invade the continent. My guess is they will do so within a year to eighteen months. Then, we will be fighting a two-front war.

"That is one of the reasons I want this mission to succeed. Anything which keeps as much of the American resources and military forces as possible focused on the Japanese means that much less force focused on the fatherland. The American submarine fleet is of little threat to us, but it is a major threat to the Japanese. So, if the Americans continue to have problems with their torpedoes, I suspect their answer will be to pour even more resources: ships, planes, and soldiers into their Pacific activities. Those are ships, planes, and soldiers not fighting us.

However, if the Americans were to focus all of their might solely on Japan or us, the war would be over before we knew it; whomever they faced with their arsenal would be ingloriously defeated. So, the longer we keep them focused on two fronts, the better our chances of eventual triumph. Canaris looked intently at Schmidt, trying to gauge his agent’s reaction to the story he’d just spun out of thin air.

Thank you for sharing those thoughts with me, Herr Admiral. I very much appreciate your insight. And I promise you I will do my best to ensure the success of my – of our – mission. Now, if you will excuse me, I must begin my preparations, as I have little time and no desire to keep a U-boat waiting for me. Again, he gave a tight smile, followed by Schmidt sticking out his right hand which the Admiral grasped.

Best of luck, Johann. I will send for you in two days. I assume you are staying in your suite at the usual hotel here in Berlin? In the late 1930s, the Abwehr had surreptitiously purchased a number of suites in one of Berlin’s best hotels. They used these to house agents when they were in Berlin."

I am. May I use your other door, Admiral? I do not wish the U-boat Captain to see me until the…the lighting is in my favor.

I understand, Johann. Canaris pointed in the direction of a door that could only be opened from within his office, bypassing the outer office where his staff, and now Commander Rundberg, were located. I look forward to our next meeting.

As do I, Admiral, as do I. Schmidt bowed with no salute this time. He gathered up the hat, coat, and walking stick left by a sofa in the office and quietly left by the private exit.

Canaris waited unit the door was closed by Schmidt and then walked behind his desk and pressed a button under the desk’s edge above its chair well. Soon thereafter, a door opened on the other side of the office and in walked Chief Kempf from what was a small but well-equipped kitchen or ‘galley,’ as the Chief liked to refer to it, using the universal navy term for a ship’s cooking facilities. Kempf cleaned up the extra cup and plate, taking the time to move Canaris’s cup to his desk.

As usual, my good friend, your strudel was magnificent! Canarias said to the other man, who bowed slightly in response to the compliment.

Thank you, Herr Admiral. I know how much you like it, particularly when I can get fresh apples.

Yes, Werner, that raises a question. Where in the world do you get fresh apples this time of the year? The Chief looked straight at his boss and smiled.

I, too, have my secrets, Herr Admiral. It was a comment which elicited a slight laugh and a broad smile from Canaris.

Alright, my old friend, I’ll ask no more questions of you. Thank you.

My pleasure, Herr Admiral, said the other man who once more bowed slightly and left by the same door through which he had entered the room. Canaris now pressed another button on a panel on the left side of his desk. Almost instantly, the main door to the office was opened by Lieutenant Mueller.

I’ll see Commander Rundberg now, Franz.

Yes sir, was all that Mueller said in reply, although his eyes quickly swept the room to ensure there was no evidence someone else had been in the office with the Admiral. It was a game the Admiral liked to play with his visitors; no one knew who, if anyone, might have been visiting with the Admiral before their appointment. Spies dealt in secrets, and Canaris was always very careful to ensure he compartmentalized any and all information about his spies to include who they were and even what they looked like.

As part of the ritual, his own schedule was a secret closely guarded by his staff. So, Rundberg would have no idea when he entered the room – Kempf has been his usual thorough self, Mueller thought to himself – that the sole passenger of his next voyage for Admiral Canaris had been in this same room but a few minutes before.

Knowing Rundberg’s fanatical belief in the Nazi party, Canaris made sure he was sitting behind his desk, ready to formally greet the other officer when he entered the room. There was the knock on the door, the pause as Mueller waited for Canaris to bid him enter, and then the door opened and in stepped the epitome of what the Nazis perceived as the pure Aryan. Günter Rundberg was around six feet tall, had bright blue eyes, blond hair, a chiseled face, and the athletic build senior Nazi Party leaders, starting with Hitler, wished all Germans could emulate. Between his singular good looks, highly successful record as a U-boat commander and, perhaps most importantly, his unswerving loyalty to the Fuhrer and his minions, Rundberg was known to and greatly admired by many party elders.

In fact, Canaris knew Rundberg was one of Hitler’s favorites, so much so that Hitler had ordered the hull number of Rundberg’s U-boat, U-989, be assigned out of order, ahead of almost thirty other boats, all of whose hulls were usually numbered sequentially. Canaris did not know why. If he had, he would have known that in a meeting with the Fuhrer following a successful raid on British shipping, Rundberg had so captivated Hitler that the Fuhrer asked him if he wanted anything special for his next command. Rundberg had answered he wished to have the hull number 989. When Hitler had asked him why, the sailor told his Fuhrer the number represented the year in which Hitler had been born – 1889 – compressed into three numbers. Rundberg had gone on to say he would consider it the greatest honor Germany could bestow on him if 989 were to be his ship’s designator. Never one to overlook personal flattery, Hitler had first smirked at the comment and then nodded his agreement, instructing his staff to make sure Captain Rundberg’s next command was given the hull number U-989.

Canaris did not share the Fuhrer’s infatuation with the dashing young sea captain. He admired Rundberg’s abilities as a sailor, and he knew he could always count on him to successfully carry out whatever mission for which he was chosen. But Canaris’s views on Germany’s future and its real enemies differed from those of the party’s hierarchy. So, while he treated Rundberg with a great deal of respect, he trusted him only so far as his mission was concerned. Thus, when Rundberg snapped to attention and saluted Canaris with a strong and very formal, Heil Hitler, Canaris straightened in his chair and returned Rundberg’s salute with an equally enthusiastic, Heil Hitler. If Rundberg were to report to anyone on his meetings with Canaris, the Admiral wanted to make sure that, as far as Rundberg was concerned, the Admiral was a loyal and fervent Nazi.

Canaris rose from his chair and extended his right hand across the desk. Rundberg’s grip was like a vice, but Canaris was ready for it. It is good to see you again, Günter. My congratulations on your last war patrol, sinking four ships. Magnificent. You do the fatherland proud, Commander! Rundberg beamed at the compliment from the man whom he admired as a great naval leader and someone who could be counted on to offer him missions which could provide opportunities for further honor to his already-inflated ego.

Thank you, Herr Admiral. Like you, I am privileged to serve Germany and the Fuhrer!

Indeed, Commander, we are both twice blessed in that regard. Canaris pointed to a chair, indicating he wished the Commander to sit. There would be no coffee for the Commander, however. Tell me, Commander, have you had any patrols off the east coast of the United States? Canaris already knew the answer but wanted to let Rundberg tell him just the same. Rundberg was nodding his head up and down.

Yes, sir, one time. I was on wolf pack duty off the coast of…what is the name of that place…yes, Maine. I believe they call it. It wasn’t one of my more successful voyages, but I got within sight of the coastline. Now Rundberg looked down and smiled as he recalled the patrol. I, I even surfaced at night and insisted on flying the Kreigsmarine swastika from my conning tower. It was like thumbing my nose at the Americans. To be able to fly our glorious flag right off their coast and to return unscathed, that was a real thrill!

Canaris knew one of Rundberg’s favorite personal aggrandizement actions was to fly the Nazi swastika banner from his submarine’s conning tower, off the coast of any non-Axis country near which Rundberg might be sailing. He had been told, but had not seen for himself, it was a very large flag: one usually used on German cruisers or battleships. Rundberg wanted whoever saw it to have no doubt that a ship of the German Kreigsmarine was sailing within the sight of their shores. Rundberg fantasized it was a type of ‘you’re next’ warning to those on shore.

"Well, Commander, would you