The Second World War was barely two weeks old when leaders
of Nazi espionage and finance gathered in a paneled conference
room in Germany 's Finanzministerium, at Wilhelmstrasse
61 . Like the other overbearing buildings lodged behind pseudo-classical
fronts, its architecture was proud and brooding. Most windows
gracing this official avenue were topped by a heavy triangular tympanum. But
the Finance Ministry was erected in the 1870s without this classical adornment,
adopting instead the Italianate style of a Medici palace. Wilhelmstrasse,
Berlin 's Pennsylvania Avenue, its Whitehall, gloried in the name of the
kaisers of imperial Germany . The Finance Ministry stood toward its southern
end. Farther down, the street was traversed by Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse, where
stood a huge, pillared palace, the L-shaped headquarters of the Gestapo.
The plan on the Ministry's conference table on September
18, 1939, was simple. Why not have the Reichsbank print
millions of counterfeit British banknotes, unload them on
the streets and rooftops of the enemy, and then stand aside
as the British economy collapsed? The dubious idea of printing enemy
currency was not especially new or even original; similar
plans also rippled across the desks of no less than Franklin
D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill. One hundred and fifty
years before, the British had counterfeited the currency
of the French revolution to stoke the inflation already created
by the revolutionaries' own printing presses. And Frederick
the Great, who had forged the unforgiving Prussian military
ethos that molded the German state, also forged money to
undermine his 18th Century enemies. But these schemes had
all been hatched in a pre-industrial age. Now, given the
immense resources and brutal efficiency of Adolf Hitler's
war machine, it should be much easier to print English banknotes
on a vast scale, in greater quantities than any counterfeit
bills ever produced before..
It was not beyond calculation that the Nazi plot could devastate
the economy of Britain and its empire, whose worldwide commerce
was transacted through the financial nerve center of the
City of London, which enriched Britain 's gentry while financing
its wars. Details were put forward by Arthur Nebe, chief
of the SS criminal police, a schoolteacher's son and an ambitious,
opportunistic senior civil servant who habitually injected
himself into the many conspiracies that lay at the heart
of the Nazi movement. He was a party member even before Hitler
came to power in 1933, whose principal utility was his knowledge
of the criminal underworld. Inventive and sinister, he was
ever at the service of his superiors. Nebe had helped Hitler
win supreme command of the armed forces in 1938 by fingering
War Minister Werner von Blomberg's new wife as a former prostitute,
forcing the old Prussian's resignation in disgrace. He was
the German representative on the International Criminal Police
Commission, formed after World War I principally to track
counterfeiters and drug smugglers across Europe 's borders
and later known as Interpol from its cable address. After
the Nazis marched into Austria in 1938,
they moved the commission's headquarters from Vienna to Berlin, gaining access to fifteen years of case files and suborning
its original purpose of tracking counterfeiters and drug
smugglers.. (Nebe is also helped adapt the mobile gas van,
originally used in the Nazi euthanasia of mental patients,
for mass murder in Eastern Europe to soothe the sensibilities
of the Reich Security Chief Heinrich Himmler, who said he
could not stand the sight of people being shot, even Jews.)
Nebe proposed mobilizing the extensive roster of professional
counterfeiters in his police files. His immediate superior
was Reinhard Heydrich, protégé of Himmler,
the leader of the murderous SS, the Schutzstaffel (Defense
Squadron) that began as the Nazi Party's armed militia. Heydrich
was not in the least constrained by any legal scruples or
even police protocol in rejecting Nebe's proposal, but he
excluded the use of police files lest this discredit Germany
's control over the international police organization, of
which he was titular chief. . Instead, he wanted to continue
using the commission's European police network to track down
anti-Nazis and Jews who had escaped from Germany . Heydrich
also hoped to extend his reach as far as the U.S. Federal
Bureau of Investigation in order to obtain U.S. passport
forms for possible forgery. (The FBI remained hesitantly
in touch with the International Criminal Police Commission,
breaking all contact only three days before Japan attacked
Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.)
However resistant he was about using criminal files, Heydrich
was enthusiastic about the counterfeit plan from the start.
As cunning as he was cruel, he was an avid reader of spy
stories. He liked to sign his memos with the single initial
C in the mode of the English espionage thrillers fashionable between
the wars. (It was and in fact remains the code letter for
the chief of the British secret service.) Heydrich's days
were full of dark assemblings. He ran Himmler's Reichssicherheitshauptamt
, the RSHA or Reich Central Security Office. It compiled
huge files on Germans suspected of disloyalty, liberal connections,
and of course Jews, whose methodical extermination Heydrich
planned and initially supervised.
Heydrich was as physically self-confident as Himmler was
shy and short-sighted. He was a skier, aviator, fencer, and
succeeded ably at whatever he did, even at playing the violin
with fierce emotion, which he did as a young officer at musical
evenings. Heydrich's inner tensions were betrayed principally
by his high, metallic voice, his harsh temper, and his nightclubbing
habits in Berlin, where the women preferred his aides to
the wolf-eyed officer with prodigious sexual appetites.
The only serious objection to the counterfeiting plan came
from Walther Funk, a homosexual former financial journalist,
fat and well fed, who served as Hitler's economics minister.
Funk was the principal Nazi liaison to German industry until
the bitter end and the titular head of the Reichsbank. He
refused the use of the Berlin laboratories of the central
bank's print shop, warning that the counterfeiting plan was
contrary to international law and that it simply would not
work. Funk also demanded that fake bills be barred from Germany
's conquered territories. He knew that the locals would dump
Nazi scrip for what they thought were real pound notes. The
last thing he needed while bleeding their resources for the
Reich would be an infusion of forged pounds soaking up his
overvalued and suspect occupation currency.
Joseph Goebbels also found the idea grotesque--" einen
grotesken Plan ," as he wrote in his diary--but
he did not reject it out of hand. A similar plan had already
been mooted privately to Goebbels by Leopold Gutterer,
one of his most imaginative deputies. On September 6, Gutterer
suggested dumping the notes over Britain in quantities
large enough to equal 30 per cent of the currency in circulation.
That would mean tons of paper for the overstretched Luftwaffe
to carry, but it was the kind of mad scheme forever being
dreamed up by Goebbels' own Propaganda Ministry, the megaphone
for Hitler's Big Lies--the more often repeated, the more
they stuck.
Goebbels, a blindly devoted follower who had spread the "Heil
Hitler" greeting among Nazi Party members, was the only
person with an advanced degree--he had a doctorate in philology--
to remain in Hitler's immediate entourage throughout the
war, and one of the very few with any college education at
all. He confided his misgivings to his diary: "But what
if the English do the same to us? I [will] let the plan be
further explored..." Whether Goebbels was represented
at the September 18 meeting is unknown, but he clearly was
well aware that a whiff of counterfeit paper might blow away
the Reich's finances. They were already stacked as delicately
as a house of cards because Hitler had refused to endanger
his solid bourgeois support by raising taxes to rearm Germany
until the day after the war actually began.
Despite the intense secrecy, word of the counterfeiting
plan soon reached London . The Berlin meeting was outlined
comprehensively in a letter from Michael Palairet, chief
of the British Legation in Athens and the very model of an
English aristocrat representing his class and country. (His
daughter married into the ennobled family of Britain 's World
War I prime minister, Herbert Asquith.) Palairet's letter
to London was marked "Very Confidential" and dated
November 21--just two months after the September 18 meeting--and
contained material from the notebook of a Russian émigré named
Paul Chourapine. Exactly how he had come by the information
was not explained, nor were his sources named. Chourapine
had been tossed out of Greece by the police in October and
deported to France, where he could not be further interrogated.
But his report was startling both in its detail and the level
of its political and financial sophistication.
During a conference of experts in monetary matters held
on the 18th September of this year [1939] at the German Ministry
of Finance, the following plan was discussed:
"Offensive against Sterling and Destruction of its
Position as World Currency"
This plan, which was unanimously approved, contemplates
in the first place the necessity of careful preparation and
perfect execution of the work enabling the proposed aims
to be realised in all the countries of the Near East as well
as in North Africa, in the British Colonies and in South
America .
It was decided to proceed with the printing in the printing
works of the Reichsbank of 30 milliards [billions] of forged
bank notes of £1 and of 2 milliards of various other
notes. The transfer of these forged notes to foreign countries
would be effected through the diplomatic bags of the Ministry
of the Navy.
The consular representatives of Germany of the abovementioned
countries would be charged with the disposal of this original
merchandise in the most prudent manner. They have received
instructions to try to obtain at first as much profit as
possible until they receive the order to distribute the bank
notes at a ridiculous price and even gratuitously, the main
object being to flood the money markets with an enormous
quantity of forged pounds.
The plan contemplates the moment when these forged notes
in spite of their perfect get-up will be discovered. This
moment will be the one when the coup which is already being
prepared will be executed in the largest exchanges of the
world, in those of New York, Amsterdam, The Hague, Lisbon,
Rome, Naples, etc. and which is to lead to the collapse of
sterling or to its serious depreciation. To make the success
of this coup possible, the Ministry of Propaganda is to start
an accusation against the Bank of England of having itself
put the forged currency into circulation with the object
of ensuring the support of the "pays états" [nation-
states] and of concealing from the world its own bankruptcy.
The Navy and the Air Force of the Reich will be called upon
to perform certain great exploits, if possible spectacular,
which should coincide with the execution of the coup explained
above.
Confidence in the British currency having been destroyed,
the [German] mark will be able to overrun the world market.
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This document remains the only contemporaneous description
of the Germans' original plan. Although it was modified by
the exigencies of war--and what battle plan is not?--Chourapine
had captured the essence of the scheme.
British diplomats shared the Athens memo with the Americans
in February, 1940. Herschel Johnson, the highly respected
senior career diplomat at the American Embassy in London, quickly passed a summary to Washington, where the State
Department then warned the Treasury. Washington was watching
apprehensively lest the dollar also become a counter in a
game that many Americans hoped to stay out of, considering
it Europe's war and the Nazis as Europe's problem.
The directors of the Bank of England, anachronistically
known as "the Court," were soon alerted along with
Sir Montagu Norman, the Bank's governor. Norman ran the place
with an iron hand, and the inner circle kept the information
so close that for many years the Bank's staff did not know
that Palairet's letter had been its principal tip. Instead,
they believed it had come via a dubious character dealing
with the British Embassy in Paris . This kind of obfuscation
characterized the Bank's smug, pusillanimous behavior from
then on. And indeed, for years the Bank of England was unable,
and until recently unwilling, to tell the full story because
its officials insisted that many of their own records were
transferred to the British secret services or lost. After
the war, officials of the Bank even destroyed some records
on their own.
If viewed merely as an espionage caper, the plot is one of the more benign in the nefarious history of this gangster regime. But the story touches a deeper nerve and still prompts inquiries to the Bank of England in a perverse tribute to the continuing fascination with Nazi totalitarianism, which stimulates the darkest infantile fantasies of absolute power and stolen wealth. Allied technical experts judged it "the most successful counterfeiting enterprise of all time," and in sheer quantity it was certainly the largest. But Allied strategists quickly recognized their own vulnerability and backed off. While its initial tactical success embarrassed London, the plot was a strategic failure. Nevertheless the Nazis, their aggressive ideology only loosely fettered to reality, literally forged ahead. Only a small proportion of the bills were put into circulation to buy raw materials from neutrals and guns from dispirited partisans. Some helped finance espionage and unconventional warfare of only marginal military utility but great propaganda value. The Nazis' best spy ended up in the movies even though Berlin ignored his information. Their most daring commando won a place in history books, where he hardly deserved a mention. So the bizarre plot succeeded, but certainly not as intended. The story demonstrates how easily authoritarian command can degenerate into self-destruction. The fundamental lesson is applicable whenever new kinds of warfare appear: Even a clever and imaginative idea can spin out of control if untested by the critical questioning essential to democratic government.