Such Sperrmarks could only be used within Germany for the purchase of stocks and shares of German companies and this method could be applied to the share-holding of the Jewish businessman in Berlin. The increase in capital through the double exchange deal would be large enough for the Munich group to take over the factory. Once this was done the group would raise additional funds on that asset, pay the bribe, get the man out of jail and whisk him out of the country.
My task – if I was willing – would be to smuggle the German cash out of Germany into Switzerland, effect the exchange into Francs and pass the proceeds over to their Swiss contact. I agreed to do this.
The Munich group began to accumulate cash by making inconspicuous withdrawals from accounts all over Germany. Eventually they had collected the required sum of 102,000 Marks in notes of one hundred, fifty and twenty Mark denominations and they handed it over to me. Meanwhile I had begun to make enquiries about the extent of searching I might be subjected to at the German border. It became obvious that this would be considerable if I were suspected of being a smuggler.
Whether I would be a suspect or not, was a question that would have to remain unanswered, but the efficiency of the Gestapo was well known. They might already be on to me through linking me with those cash withdrawals – on the other hand they might not.
I realised that I had to try and find a place of hiding the cash in a car which would stand up to a thorough search. The inner tube of the spare tyre was out – that had been done too often and detected. The same applied to the upholstery, the roof, the radiator, the battery and the door cover. I experimented with a few notes concealed in the inner tube of one of the tyres on which I was running. After only a few miles driven at slow speed, I took off the tyre, removed the patch on the tube and looked inside. There was just some grey dust that had once been money! So that was useless. Finally, the right idea dawned upon me – why not try hiding the money in the brake drums?
I decided I would dispense with the brakes on the front wheels of my car, take out the brake shoes and put the money there instead. This entailed a fair amount of work. I told my mother that I would be going on a trip to Switzerland in the near future and that I had to do some overhauls on my car before I went. I then sealed all cracks in the garage door with felt, painted the window black and went to work. I obtained a tool needed to remove the brake drums (the wheel is taken off, the tool attached to the bolts that hold the wheel and then a threaded bolt in the centre is turned until it exerts enough pressure on the axle-stump to withdraw a break-drum from its cone shaped seat.)
Once the brake drums were removed I was able to remove the brake shoes. Then I manufactured two round tin containers, which looked rather like cake-moulds, with a hole in the centre for the axle. I attached them to the bolts, which normally hold the brake shoes, put the brake drums back and went for a trial run. The idea worked although I had to go slowly since I only had the handbrake working on the back wheels. Two evenings later I transferred the money to the garage, removed the empty brake drums once again and started ‘packing’.
It was a very hot summer night and after only a few minutes in the ‘airtight’ garage I was dripping wet. My mother, who must have been puzzled by my newly developed distaste for fresh air, came knocking at the door with an iced drink. I had to quickly cover up the piles of money before she opened the door, which could not be locked from the inside. I am quite sure she suspected a great deal but she neither asked any questions then or at any other time.
I had to fold the notes down the middle since they were too large for my containers. I then hammered them flat with a mallet and made parcels wrapped in oily paper and tied with catgut. I packed the tins as tightly as I could, but it soon became apparent that I would not be able to get all the money in. When they were full I had stowed away just over 60,000 of the 102,000 Marks. There would therefore have to be a second trip.
Early the following morning I set off for Switzerland, going via Kempten and using the ferry to cross Lake Constance. To ensure I did not arouse any suspicions at the border I dumped the special tool in some woods since this was not something that would normally be carried by a motorist.
As the customs barrier at Konstanz on the far side of Lake Constance came into view I felt slightly sick. There was one car ahead of me, this was checked and dispatched quickly. I survived the urge to turn the car around and return home. Then the customs officer stood at my car.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To Zurich’
‘How much money do you have?’
‘Ten Marks’ (Something of an understatement.)
‘Alright – pass.’
It was as easy as that. He stamped my passport and I was on my way. The whole thing was over in about one minute.
After passing the Swiss border control with equal ease, I drove on to the town of Winterthur and borrowed another break-drum removing tool from a garage, leaving my suitcase as a deposit. Then I drove out of the town and into a forest, removed the brake drums and unpacked the money. It was in perfect condition.
Back in Winterthur I retrieved my suitcase and went on to Zurich, feeling very light-hearted and satisfied. I telephoned my contact man and in my room at the Savoy Hotel we counted out the money behind drawn blinds. He would retain it, he said, until I returned with the balance and we would then do the whole exchange transaction.
The next evening saw me back in Munich after an uneventful journey. (I had bought another tool in Zurich and left it in a barn) We decided that it would be wise to allow a few days to elapse before my second trip. I set out again ten days later, having crawled around Munich slowly on half a brake.
Once again, I obtained the special tool, packed the remaining money and went off to Konstanz as before. This time however there was some commotion at the German border when I arrived. A large car was parked by the customs building. Its upholstery had been cut open and its two spare tyres had been taken off. The passengers, an old couple, were vainly protesting against further damage being done to their beautiful car. During the next twenty minutes I watched the customs men go over that car with a fine-tooth comb, but they found nothing. With the stuffing hanging out of the seats and the door covers, which had been unscrewed, stacked on the back seat, the two old people were eventually permitted to proceed.
Meanwhile I had debated with myself the advisability of submitting my car to a similar search. I decided to go on with my plans. That first car might be searched because it was suspect. But even if they were being meticulous with every car on that particular day, I still felt that my place of hiding was good. They certainly hadn’t done anything to the wheels of the car in front of me. I might, so I thought, arouse further suspicion if I turned around after having waited for some minutes. When my turn came I was trembling and probably pale but outwardly I remained fairly confident. I asked the customs officer what they had been looking for.
‘Never you mind’ he said. ‘We had orders.’
I grinned and said that I could guess. ‘Money smuggling, wasn’t it?’
He grinned back and didn’t answer. He subjected my suitcase to a cursory inspection, asked me to show him my wallet, which contained the permissible ten Marks and then sent me on my way.
Once in Switzerland I had to stop and run off into the woods, as my insides seemed to be falling out. A few miles along the road I came across the old couple, they were trying to tidy up their ruined car. I stopped and asked them if they knew why they had run into trouble. The old gentleman, who was nearly crying, could only venture a guess. ‘I have been taking rather large sums of cash out of the bank’, he told me. ‘Someone must have thought that I was taking it abroad and reported me, but I haven’t got a penny over my travelling allowance with me. I was putting that money into jewellery.’