Chapter 15
SS-Sturmbannführer Heinrich Adler, called the Eagle by his men because of his name and his hawk-eyed attention to detail, stretched his tall athletic frame and rose from his desk in one fluid movement.
He’d started work earlier than usual that morning, eager to complete the updates to the Aryanisation project.
He didn’t trust anyone else to complete the final records.
The Führer himself might peruse them at some point, and Heinrich’s pride in his work dictated they must reflect the excellence with which he had managed the project to its admirable fruition.
Now he was impatient for his next challenge, but he tied up the loose ends with diligence. One didn’t excel at the most prestigious university in Bavaria and rise through the ranks as rapidly as he, by being haphazard.
It didn’t cross his mind for one second, he was administrating mass theft from a defenceless minority who were being used as a scapegoat for all Germany’s ills. In his eyes, it was his noble duty to restore his country to the Second Reich’s former glory.
The process had gone smoothly enough, and he and his team of officials had effectively rid the city of Jewish commerce through sustained swoops on Jewish-owned assets throughout the past year.
He sighed with pleasure, contemplating his own brilliance.
His parents would be so proud of his progress, and Heinrich hoped to get approval for a brief visit to his family estate in the Bavarian countryside.
Whilst the Nazi Party's operational headquarters had moved to Berlin, Munich was still the symbolic capital and birthplace of the movement, so he could combine a personal visit with business.
Things had always come naturally to Heinrich, and he was no stranger to success.
He moved to the large picture window and gazed out at the angry tides rolling in against the backdrop of the pewter grey sky.
It was a miserable day, and the raindrops spat on the windowpane as if showing nature’s displeasure.
The grand nineteenth-century mansion on the Paramé seafront had been an excellent choice, and Heinrich congratulated himself once again as he revelled in his position.
When the sun shone on the Emerald Coast, this was the most beautiful spot in St. Malo.
It was the perfect location to orchestrate the massive new coastal fortification project, with enormous gardens for a security perimeter and offices to house his expanding staff and to hold meetings with the growing number of contractors needed for such a bold plan to thwart an enemy invasion.
His grey-blue eyes, so often admired by the ladies, matched the shade of the stormy sea, and swivelled to rest on the harbour to the west and then flickered to the medieval walled city and ramparts.
Heinrich found it divinely provident that the original walls were built to protect the city from British attacks by land and sea, and Hitler’s new directive served an identical purpose.
History repeated itself in the most entertaining ways, he reflected, before hitting the bell on his desk with a decisive hand. His secretary scurried in, and he dispatched her immediately to bring him a cup of coffee.
Yes , the elevated position of the mansion suited Heinrich’s requirements completely, and he looked down on the French city he now controlled and licked his lips.
The secretary tapped on his door again which bore the gold name plate:
Deutsche Zivilverwaltung Saint-Malo SS-Sturmbannführer H. Adler
Followed by smaller lettering in French:
Administration Civile Allemande Saint-Malo
Upon her boss’s command the petite young French woman who was fluent in German and whose family had lived in St. Malo for three generations rested the coffee on the Eagle’s desk, an ever-present wariness in her manner.
‘Anything else I may bring you, Herr Sturmbannführer?’
Heinrich dismissed her in his silken, impeccable upper-class German, and she closed the door behind her.
Hitler had recently issued the order for the Atlantic Wall strategy, throughFührer Directive No.
40. The order was to create impregnable defences along the coasts of northwestern Europe.
St. Malo was strategically positioned as a key port, so the goal was clear.
They must put all their energy into fortifying against invasion and that was what Heinrich would turn his full attention to next.
After his short break, he resumed his position at his desk and sipped the coffee.
It was from a large batch of luxury goods that had been confiscated from a Jewish business, and the fine blend was his current favourite.
The reality was his position as an SS officer provided him a high standard of living in occupied France, much better than his family back home in Germany who frequently complained of terrible rationing and a shortage of even the most basic supplies.
He savoured the coffee as he scanned the list of successfully Aryanised businesses, and he ticked off the various criteria on the records as completed and flagged the occasional anomaly for follow up. Jews were sneaky and scheming, so he was careful never to underestimate them.
A stickler for protocol, he resolved to do a random check before submitting his final report on the Aryanisation of Jewish Businesses in St. Malo.
Several names caught his eye, and he added a firm tick next to each one.
He would visit those that most interested him in person.
It would be a pleasant diversion and get him out of the office.
The rain had finally subsided, and the pale-yellow sun battled for prominence in the moody sky.
He nodded his golden head as if confirming the sense of his own plan.
Heinrich considered it important to show his presence in the walled city regularly, and not stay hidden at the mansion.
The locals must see their new leaders ruling and be in no doubt of the new order.
Increasing reports of Resistance groups implementing bold attacks on the transport system and on German property throughout France angered him, and he was determined St. Malo wouldn’t become another base for these dangerous agitators.
Not on his watch. Not in his city.
His browsing continued, and his eyes lit on the name Livres Cohen, now operating as Livres Beaumont.
He vaguely remembered that the bookshop had been owned by the Cohens for generations and was taken over by a non-Jewish family before the official Aryanisation.
He could picture the quaint shopfront, located on the Grand Rue.
One of his men had queried the situation with him before rubber-stamping the transfer as legal.
Heinrich shuffled his papers. The Final Solution was being implemented, and Europe would be cleansed of Jewish vermin.
Berlin had made it clear—there would be total liquidation, but in the meantime, the plan remained top secret, and his spies told him that many French Jews clung to the hope their French citizenship would protect them despite the increasingly harsh anti-Jewish regulations.
The Cohens had fled, and Heinrich had given instructions to seize their home and its contents.
An avid reader, he awaited military packages of new books and reading material with anticipation.
To his disappointment, there had been no deliveries for quite some time, and the dusty old books in the mansion library didn’t appeal.
It was unlikely that the provincial bookshop would stock much German literature, but he was a proficient French reader, and perhaps he would find something to pique his curiosity.
A visit to Livres Beaumont would tick two boxes. He could check the shop was being run according to the strict procedures and look for a new book at the same time.
Heinrich drank the last of the now lukewarm coffee and unlocked his desk drawer, where he always kept his pistol. Clipping his holster to his belt, he checked his weapon and, satisfied, inserted the Luger P08 into the holster.
Glancing out the window and noticing a patch of thick dark cloud, he shrugged his wide shoulders into his black leather coat over his uniform and wore his peaked cap with the SS eagle and death's head insignia.
The Nazi eagle emblem complimented his Adler family crest and had been part of the pull for him to join the SS when he could have chosen to remain in Munich and work in the family steel and armaments business like his older brother.
In honour of the family name, their ancient coat of arms that traced their lineage all the way back to the medieval knights was dominated by a golden eagle, and he saw himself as the Golden Eagle, with his regal bearing and bright blond hair.
His father and brother handled the business and money, but they all agreed Heinrich had the knack for cultivating power. He would secure the Adlers’ place in the Thousand-Year Reich.
It was his destiny.