He had no idea of the proper nomenclature of the devices that moved people up (the right one) and down (the left one) in the largest office building in Europe. They functioned by constantly moving small platforms onto which passengers stepped on and off.
In 1941, I.G. Farben G.m.b.H. had been the fourth largest corporation in the world, after General Motors, U.S. Steel, and Standard Oil of New Jersey. Eisenhower had decided, early on, that he wanted the building as his headquarters. With great difficulty, the enormous structure had been spared damage by the thousand bomber raids that had reduced most of Frankfurt to rubble.
Mattingly, ascending upon what he now idly thought could probably be called the “vertical personnel transport device,” arrived at the fifth floor. It was his intention to call upon Brigadier General H. Paul Greene, chief, Counterintelligence, European Command, whom he hoped to deceive sufficiently to get him off the backs of the XXIIIrd and XXVIIth CIC detachments — and off himself personally.
The last time Mattingly had seen Greene, who was de jure but not de facto his immediate superior, Greene had ordered him to consider himself under arrest for disobedience of a direct order. The one-star released him from arrest only after Mattingly had threatened to bring their disagreement to the personal attention of General Eisenhower.
There was a very good chance, Mattingly understood, that he would again find himself under arrest today. But that chance had to be taken.
He stepped off the dumbwaiter and marched purposefully down the marble-floored corridor to General Greene’s suite of offices.
When he entered the outer office, a major and a master sergeant looked up from their desks. The master sergeant then stood.
“Good morning,” Mattingly said. “I’m here to see General Greene.”
“I’ll see if the general is free, sir,” the major said, and reached for his telephone.
“Just to clear the air between us, Major: That was an announcement of intention. As deputy commander, CIC, I don’t need your permission to see the general. Perhaps you might wish to write that down.”
Mattingly marched to, and through, the doorway to General Greene’s office, then up to his desk. The major hurriedly followed him to the doorway.
Mattingly came to attention and saluted.
General Greene’s face whitened and he glared at Mattingly for a long moment before returning the salute.
“Good morning, General,” Mattingly said.
General Greene did not immediately reply.
“General,” the major began, “he just walked in—”
Mattingly turned to him. “That will be all, thank you, Major. I’m afraid you’re not cleared for the matter the general and I will be discussing.”
The major looked to General Greene for guidance. After a moment, Greene waved his hand, telling him to leave.
“Please close the door tightly, Major,” Mattingly ordered.
When the door was closed, General Greene said, “You better have a good explanation for this, you arrogant sonofabitch!”
“With the general’s permission, I have several documents, classified Top Secret — Presidential, I would like the general to peruse.”
After a moment, still white-faced and tight-lipped, General Greene made another hand gesture—Let’s see them.
Mattingly opened his briefcase, took from it a thin sheath of papers and photographs, and laid them before General Greene.
On top was an eight-by-ten-inch glossy photograph of Captain James D. Cronley Jr. with, on his right, the President of the United States and, on his left, Rear Admiral Sidney William Souers. To their left and right were James D. Cronley Sr., Major General William J. Donovan, and Colonel Robert Mattingly.
“What am I looking at?” General Greene asked, more than a little unpleasantly.
“Forgive me, sir, but I must have your confirmation of your understanding that this material is classified Top Secret — Presidential.”
“I’m not deaf, Mattingly,” Greene snapped. “I heard you the first time.”
“That photograph was taken the day before yesterday, General, immediately after President Truman promoted Captain Cronley to that grade and awarded him the Distinguished Service Medal.”
“Who the hell is he?”
“He’s the officer I placed in charge of the Twenty-third Detachment’s—”
“Twenty-third Detachment?” Greene interrupted. “We don’t have a Twenty-third Detachment!”
“I formed it, sir, under the Twenty-seventh, to run the operation at Kloster Grünau, sir, to further shield it.”
Green stared at him a long moment. “Tell me more about this Captain Cronley.”
“I think you’re asking if he’s the officer who had the misunderstanding with Colonel Schumann at Kloster Grünau. Yes, sir, he is.”
“‘Misunderstanding’? You call blowing the engine out of Tony Schumann’s car with.50 caliber machine gun fire a misunderstanding? Jesus, Mattingly!”
“Sir, that was regrettable. Sir, I have been authorized to make you privy to some of the details of Operation Ost. With the caveat that you are not to share anything I tell you with anyone absent my express permission in each instance. May I have your assurance, General, that you understand?”
Greene glared at him again, but finally said, “You have my assurance, Colonel.”
“Thank you, sir. Sir, the use of deadly force has been authorized if necessary to preserve the security of Operation Ost.”
“You’re telling me that this operation of yours is so important that that young officer could have killed Colonel Schumann to keep him from finding out about it?”
“Yes, sir. That is indeed the case. Colonel Schumann or anyone else posing a threat to the operation. Or anyone who might threaten to compromise the security thereof.”
“Jesus Christ!” Greene said, looking past Mattingly and shaking his head slowly.
Mattingly decided Greene was now convinced he was being told the truth.
Greene then said in a tone of reason: “I would be grateful, Colonel, if you told me as much as you’re able about this operation of yours.”
Mattingly began to do so.
“So those rumors are true,” Greene said five minutes later. “We are sneaking people, Nazis, into Argentina.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Eisenhower knows about this?”
Mattingly did not reply directly.
“General, outside the Twenty-third and Twenty-seventh CIC detachments, there are four people — now that I’ve told you, five — in the European Theatre who are privy to Operation Ost. I am not at liberty to tell you who they are.”
“I can understand why,” Greene said, thinking out loud. “Can you tell me why this Cronley fellow was promoted and given the DSM?”
“Some of it, sir. Using intelligence obtained from General Gehlen, Captain Cronley located the submarine — U-234—in Argentina and recovered the half ton of uranium oxide she was carrying. The operation was not carried out perfectly. SS-Oberführer Horst Lang and a detachment of SS personnel were onboard the U-234 to guard the material. We have reason to believe Lang intended to sell it to the Soviet Union. It was necessary for Captain Cronley to terminate Lang, despite our hope that we would be able to keep him alive for questioning.”
“By ‘terminate’ I presume you mean Cronley had to kill him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know why you have been authorized to bring me into this?”