Canaris had finished eating, had cleaned up and was dressed and waiting for them when they came a few minutes before eight.
Binder, Kriiger, and two other SS guards all crowded into his tiny cell. All of them were respectful. Even Kriiger tried to be as considerate as possible while he placed fetters on Canaris’ ankles and handcuffs on his wrists.
No one said a word as they led him out of his cell and down the corridor past the guardroom, his chains clattering on the floor.
His heart was pounding very hard, and it was difficult for him to catch his breath.
They turned to the right outside the front door and went down the walk alongside the main driveway. The night was cool. But it felt good to be outside. Canaris had been this way only once before, when he had first been brought here from Berlin.
They crossed the driveway and entered what appeared to be one of the administration buildings. Otto Thorbeck, whom Canaris recognized as the SS judge based down in Nuremberg, was waiting in the entryway.
He preceded them as Canaris was led down a short corridor and into a large room that had been set up as a courtroom.
Seated at the bench were the camp commandant Kogl, Stawitzky, and Colonel Walter Huppenkothen, his old adversary from the Prinz-Albrecht Strasse interrogations.
There were two recording secretaries seated to one side, along with Thorbeck who had positioned himself at the open door to a side room. Canaris just caught a glimpse of a long table filled with files and other papers. Evidence, he figured.
He was directed to a chair facing the bench, then Binder, Kriiger, and the other two guards withdrew to the back of the room.
Huppenkothen raised a gavel and slammed it sharply on the table. He seemed angryr and although he was looking up, his eyes refused to meet Canaris’. The others were the same. They were all frightened. This was to be a sham.
“The Schutzstaffel Summary Court, District Headquarters, is hereby convened in the matter of Admiral Wilhelm Franz Canaris, charged in the first count: That since 1938 the accused has been a vital and active link in plans for a coup d‘6tat against the lawful National Socialist Government of our Fiihrer Adolph Hitler; in the second count: That the accused did conceal within the Amt Ausland/Abwehr, while he was head of that body, the said conspiracy and conspirators; in the third count: That the accused, during the winter of 1939-40, did attempt by verbal and other means to incite various German military commanders into rebellion; and in the fourth count: That the accused was privy to secret illegal negotiations on Germany’s behalf between one Josef Muller and the Catholic church, to wit, the Vatican.”
Huppenkothen had been reading from the indictment. He looked up. “You are charged with Landesverrat, to wit, treasonable activity against the state, as well as Hochsverrat, high treason.
How do you plead?”
So that was all of it, Canaris thought, his mind racing. They had not charged him with the July 20th assassination attempt on the Fiihrer, nor had they said a thing about his diaries. Was there hope after all?
“Before I plead, Herr Standartenfiihrer, I wish to raise a number of points of law,” he said. His voice was surprisingly strong, although he could not trust himself to stand yet.
Huppenkothen sighed deeply, but nodded.
“First, I have no defense counsel, contrary to law. Colonel Hans Meitner was my appointed …”
“Colonel Meitner is dead. He was killed in action two days ago,” Huppenkothen snapped.
It was as if all the air had suddenly left the room.
Stawitzky leaned forward. “You have had ample time to provide yourself with counsel.”
Canaris tried to order his thoughts. “I request a delay in these proceedings, to provide me time to …”
“Denied,” Huppenkothen said.
“On what grounds?”
“The exigencies of war. Proceed.”
Canaris took a deep breath. “I am a member of the Armed Forces. An SS Summary court has no jurisdiction in this matter.”
“Superseded on the orders of the Fiihrer.”
“Then venue belongs in Berlin, not here.”
“Superseded!”
Canaris sat back and shook his head. “This is a sham. If you want my help to proceed with it, you will be disappointed.”
Stawitzky was smiling. The camp commandant, Kogl, was bored. Huppenkothen was angry and impatient.
“How do you plead?”
“Not guilty to all charges,” Canaris said. He looked off toward the windows. Arc lights had come on across the compound.
There seemed to be some activity out there, but it was impossible from here to tell exactly what was going on. He kept thinking about poor Hans, whose only crime had been to befriend an accused man.
Otto Thorbeck stepped into the side room and brought out several fat file folders which he placed before Huppenkothen and his two newly appointed associate judges. They were Oster’s files. Canaris was reasonably certain of it. It was the same material that had been used against him from the very beginning.
Not very convincing. Why hadn’t they brought his diaries? Perhaps they were saving them for the very end?
Everything, all the questions, the results of all the interrogations from the Frontier Police College, then Prinz-Albrecht Strasse and finally here, came out now, as Huppenkothen spoke.
The words flowed around Canaris—meaningless, in one sense, because he was so intimately familiar with the material, and yet made more ominous than ever before because of the nature of this proceeding.
He glanced from Stawitzky on one side to Huppenkothen in the middle and Kogl at the opposite side of the bench. Then he looked at Thorbeck. They all understood what was happening here. They all understood the sham. They were simply going through the motions so that it would all be down in black and white on paper.
Was Wilhelm Canaris murdered? Of course not! There was a proper trial! Rules
