“The Argentines were waiting for us. Oberst Grüner, the military attaché in Buenos Aires, and Standartenführer Goltz were killed.”
“But you managed to save the special cargo, obviously?”
“God spared Major von Wachtstein and me; we were able to get the crates off the beach.”
“Who did you say? Von Wachtstein?”
“A distinguished Luftwaffe officer. He received the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross from the Führer personally.”
Von Dattenberg smiled. “He was not always that respectable, Capitán.”
“You know him?”
“We were almost sent down from university together. I mean, he was sent down, and I was lucky. He went into the Luftwaffe and became a corporal pilot. He flew in Spain with the Condor Legion. I’d heard, after he got the Knight’s Cross, that he’d been commissioned, but I didn’t know he’d been promoted major. One of the world’s good people, Capitán. And he’s involved in this, whatever it is?”
De Banderano was pleased to hear that von Dattenberg and von Wachtstein knew each other, that they were friends. He thought they were both fine young officers.
“I think his role was much like yours, Capitán, to assist in getting the special shipment ashore. Not more than that.”
“Radios and clothing to help the Graf Spee officers escape sounds fishy,” von Dattenberg said, making it a question.
“That’s what I was told; I didn’t ask questions.”
“An SS-sturmbannführer to guard some radios and clothing?” von Dattenberg pursued.
De Banderano shrugged.
“If I may offer a suggestion, Kapitän. It might not be wise to express your questions to Sturmbannführer Kötl.”
“I am young, Capitán, and inexperienced, but not stupid.”
“Shall I ask the sturmbannführer to join us?”
Sturmbannführer Alfred Kötl looked up after having read his orders. “This is highly unusual,” he objected, “subjecting an SS officer to the orders of a foreign citizen.”
“Perhaps that is why Reichsprotektor Himmler personally signed the concurrence of the SS to the Grand Admiral’s orde
rs,” von Dattenberg offered.
“If you wish clarification of the orders, or confirmation, whatever, we can radio Berlin and get that in perhaps ten or twelve hours,” de Banderano said.
“When will the replenishment of your submarine be finished, von Dattenberg? ” Kötl asked bluntly. “Certainly that won’t take an additional ten or twelve hours.”
“There will be time to send a message, Kötl, if that’s what you want to do,” de Banderano said. “It is my decision that the crew of the U-405 should not undertake this mission until they have had twenty-four hours to recuperate from the ordeal of their voyage so far. Several hot meals and a night in a real bunk should do wonders for them.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest, Herr Kapitän, that I was questioning your orders. I merely was stating that they were highly unusual.”
“In other words, you don’t want me to radio Berlin?”
“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary.”
“When you have selected the men you’ll be taking with us, Herr Sturmbannführer, ” von Dattenberg said, “please instruct them that they may bring aboard one extra uniform, two changes of linen, one spare pair of shoes, their toilet kit, and such personal items as they may be able to hold in their armpit.”
"I don’t believe I can get even my smallest suitcase under my armpit,” Kötl said, smiling at his wit.
“And no suitcases, Herr Sturmbannführer. Space is at a premium aboard submarines.”
[THREE]