Hide and Seek: The Irish Priest in the Vatican who Defied the Nazi Command. The dramatic true story of rivalry and survival during WWII.. Stephen Walker
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sanctum where the Führer met members of his high command. When he learnt what had happened in Rome, he was furious. The coup had caught him unawares and, while he knew there was anti-Mussolini feeling across Italy, he had not believed it would be acted upon. Moreover he distrusted Pietro Badoglio, fearing correctly that he was preparing to negotiate a peace deal with the Allies. Hitler suspected that the Americans and the British were in some way involved in the Mussolini coup. In addition he judged that further Allied landings on the Italian mainland could prompt an Italian surrender and that therefore it was essential to organize a countercoup in Rome and seize the city. Hitler was in a race against time.
He spoke on the telephone to senior commanders, held meetings and read briefing papers, then started to put together a plan which he would christen ‘Operation Oak’. On paper it looked straightforward, but in practice it would prove very different. The mission consisted of three stages: Mussolini would be found, he would be restored to power, and the German–Italian alliance would be strengthened. First, the former Fascist leader had to be traced. Twenty-four hours after the kidnapping Hitler hand-picked the man to lead Operation Oak. Otto Skorzeny, a young Austrian commando captain, six feet four inches tall and well built, was his choice.
Skorzeny set up his headquarters in the ancient town of Frascati, a picturesque suburb of Rome about ten miles from the capital. Known for its vineyards, it was also home to the General Headquarters for German troops in Italy and housed the offices of Marshal Albert Kesselring, the Supreme Commander of the Southern Front, in charge of military operations in the Mediterranean region and North Africa. For the next six weeks it would also be the command centre of Skorzeny’s secret mission.
Skorzeny needed local help and called on the services of Herbert Kappler and Eugen Dollmann. Like Kappler, Dollmann was an SS man and had lived in Rome for a number of years. The two were rivals and did not get on with each other. Dollmann, a colonel, was highly rated by Himmler and was his personal representative in Rome. Kappler may well have been envious of Dollmann, who was better educated and also was the favourite of General Karl Wolff, the commander of the SS in Italy.
When Skorzeny told Himmler he needed help in Rome, Kappler and Dollmann were volunteered. The two SS men were summoned from Rome to Skorzeny’s headquarters in Frascati to have dinner with him.
After they had eaten, Skorzeny explained to his guests what his plans were. Privately both Kappler and Dollmann thought the mission was flawed. They saw Fascism in Italy as finished and believed there was little point in bringing Mussolini back into power. However, they kept their thoughts to themselves. When Skorzeny met them both at Kappler’s office some days later, Dollmann had considered being honest with the commando captain. ‘Once again it would have been heroic of me if I had told the State Security Bureau’s agent flatly what I thought of his plans for Rome, but I naturally refrained from doing so,’ he would later record in his diary.
Like his colleague, Kappler kept quiet, but eventually he made an attempt to change Skorzeny’s mind. He flew to meet Heinrich Himmler and expressed his reservations. He said that the operation planned by Skorzeny was pointless and advised Himmler that Mussolini would only be able to return to power by ‘the strength of German bayonets’. It was a pointless trip. As Reichsführer-SS, Himmler was Skorzeny’s boss and one of the most important men in the Third Reich. He was committed to the plan.
So Operation Oak began in earnest, with a reluctant Kappler an important part of it. With a small staff Kappler could not offer manpower to Skorzeny’s operation. But what he could provide was good local knowledge and a wide range of contacts. Skorzeny provided forged banknotes, and with these Kappler was able to tempt his spies to sell information about Mussolini’s movements. For the next few weeks seeking out the former Fascist leader would become the police attaché’s priority.
‘God will protect us all’
Henrietta Chevalier to Hugh O’Flaherty
One evening in 1943, as the light was fading, Hugh O’Flaherty left the Vatican and made his way to the other side of Rome. At Piazza Salerno he walked round a corner, then went through an archway between a grocer’s shop and a butcher’s. Slowly he climbed three flights of steps. He read the numbers on the doors and then, finding the correct address, rang the bell.
He was quickly ushered in. Once inside the flat in Via Imperia, he towered over Henrietta Chevalier, who stood just five feet four inches tall. The attractive middle-aged woman had neat hair and wore earrings and a necklace. A widow from Malta living on a small pension, she had lost her husband just before the start of the war. Her English was perfect, though she spoke with a trace of a Maltese accent. She had six daughters and two sons, and one of her boys worked at the Swiss embassy, while the other was being held in a prison camp. Although her home was small she had agreed to house two escaped French soldiers. O’Flaherty was delighted that she was willing to help, but he needed to impress on her the dangers of taking in escaped prisoners.
‘You do not have to do it,’ he told her, adding that those found harbouring prisoners of war could be executed. He said he would take the men away if she had any doubts about their staying in her home. If Henrietta was scared, she certainly did not show it. In fact she seemed quite relaxed about the priest’s warning. ‘What are you worrying about, Monsignor?’ she replied. ‘God will protect us all.’
A quick glance round the flat showed the monsignor how important Henrietta’s faith was to her. Fittingly, a tapestry of Our Lady of Pompeii, who traditionally helped those in need, hung in one of the two bedrooms. On a table sat a small statue of St Paul. Prayer was an important part of Henrietta’s daily life. She firmly believed she and her family would be safe and told her visitor she was happy to help for as long as possible. O’Flaherty’s new-found Maltese friend would stick to that promise.
From that night on, the Chevaliers’ tiny flat would never be the same again. Their military guests would sleep on mattresses and Henrietta and her children would share the beds. Space would be at a premium and soon there would be a daily queue for the bathroom. The changed circumstances would have to be kept secret. The flat was now out of bounds to all but family members. The Chevaliers’ friends couldn’t come to see them and the girls could not invite visitors. But it wasn’t all bad news. For the younger daughters the new male house guests were a novelty and brought a sense of fun. Within days flat number nine would echo to the strains of endless gramophone records and Henrietta’s young girls would have a choice of dancing partners.
Back in his room in the German College, Hugh O’Flaherty was happy in the knowledge that he had secured shelter and a willing host for the two escapees.
By September 1943 the Germans were edging closer to taking over Rome. In the same month O’Flaherty had three new arrivals to welcome. Henry Byrnes was a captain in the Royal Canadian Army Corps. He arrived in style at the Holy See. A prisoner of war, he was being marched to the Castro Pretorio barracks in Rome when he and two colleagues gave the soldiers guarding them the slip. Byrnes, John Munroe Sym, a major in the Seaforth Highlanders, and Roy Elliot, a sub-lieutenant in the Royal Navy, met an Italian doctor. Fortunately Luigi Meri de Vita was a friendly soul, well disposed towards escaped Allied servicemen. He put the three escapees in his car and drove them across Rome to the Vatican. After managing to get into the Holy See, the three men quickly found their way to Hugh O’Flaherty’s door.
The monsignor immediately put Byrnes and Elliot to work. The pair began to compile a list of Allied servicemen they knew were in hiding across Italy. Once the paperwork was complete, Byrnes passed the details on to Father Owen Sneddon, a contemporary of the monsignor who was now assisting the Escape Line. Sneddon, a New Zealander, worked as a broadcaster for the English-language Vatican Radio service. The station was part of the Vatican’s communication network and, although the Pope technically controlled it, it was run day to day by the Jesuit Father Filippo Soccorsi. The station was an important tool for the Escape Line, but broadcasters had to be careful because the Germans monitored the output and each broadcast was translated.
Once Father Sneddon was ready he peppered his broadcasts with the names supplied by Byrnes