CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Priest Who Confronted Stalin
Many surprising things turned up on the Pipeline, but the most unexpected
of all was a priest.
Before I tell the story of Father Orlemanski, it is necessary to recall some
details of the tragic fate of Poland. In a speech on Jan. 22, 1944 Winston
Churchill gave the first clue that the Western Powers were planning to deliver
Poland, one of their staunchest allies, into Russian hands.
The Prime Minister could afford to take the public lead; he had no Polish
constituency, while the United States had 3,000,000 citizens of Polish birth or
descent. At Tehran, four months earlier, Poland’s death-sentence had been
arranged; it was to be executed at Yalta early in 1945.
Prominent roles in the tragedy were played by two American citizens who
were cleared from Great Falls to Moscow on April 12 and 19, 1944. Both had
been equipped by the State Department with passports authorizing travel to
the Soviet Union, and by the War Department with military passes for the
Western Defense Command (Great Falls) and Alaska Defense Force
(Fairbanks).
First to arrive was Oscar Richard Lange, professor of economics at
Chicago University. Born and educated in Poland, he had been a traveling
fellow of the Rockefeller Foundation from 1934-36 and had come to America
in 1937, at the age of 33. He was naturalized in 1943.
I first heard of Oscar Lange from Colonel Kotikov, who was leaving on one
of his mysterious hurry-up flights to Washington. He asked me to keep a
particular look-out for a man “high in Polish affairs” who would be passing
through on the way to Moscow. He could be identified because he “walked
with a limp.” On account of an urgent appointment in Edmonton, he was to be
sent along without delay.
As my diary records, Professor Lange arrived on April 11 and departed
early the next morning. In the press of other business I took little notice except
to examine his papers, which were in order. But I sat up when a telegram was
forwarded by the Airbase Commander. It was from General Marshall, who
sent his personal order for the professor’s clearance. I thought, “This Lange
must really be a V.I.P.” Never before, at Great Falls, had such intervention
from the Chief of Staff occurred.
The second American was Father Stanislaus Orlemanski. To the best of
my information, Professor Lange and Father Orlemanski were the first
Americans to pass the “Iron Curtain” stretched across the Bering Sea.
Father Orlemanski was the pastor of a church in Springfield, Mass. He was
possessed by the idea of an heroic mission. He would confront Joseph Stalin
face to face and wrest from him a promise that Communist persecution of
religion would cease. For such a dream there have not been too many
parallels since the Middle Ages.
In the year 1219 another of “God’s fools,” Saint Francis of Assisi, trudged
across a no-man’s land in Egypt, through the Muslim camp where there was
a price on every Christian head, and stood at last before the Saracen
commander-in-chief. To Sultan Malik-al-Kamil the friar preached the Gospel
and implored him to accept baptism. The monarch smiled, but granted safeconduct
to Francis and remarked to his courtiers that for the first time he had
met a true “Nazarene.”
On the morning of April 18 Colonel Kotikov telephoned us that he had been
stranded at Billings, Montana. In a B-25 bomber, Colonel Boaz, Major Paul
Reid and I flew to the rescue, returning about 2:15 the same afternoon.
There in my office, sitting with an air of tranquil patience, was a Catholic
priest. He was nearly six feet tall and had the build of a husky workingman.
We shook hands and exchanged names.
Quite simply, Father Orlemanski said that he was on the way to Moscow. I,
Major Jordan, was to put him on a plane. He spoke with the serenity of one
who had taken to heart the favorite maxim of Saint Francis of Assisi: “Cast
your care upon God, and He will protect you.” Thinking of the fate in store for
a priest in Russia, I was horrified.
I demanded his credentials, never dreaming he could have any. To my
stupefaction, he ordered military passes for the Alaska Defense Force and
Western Defense Command, bearing the names of their respective chiefs,
Major General Simon B. Buckner and Major General David McCoach, Jr. Next
he produced a passport from the State Department empowering him to travel
to the Soviet Union by way of Egypt, Iraq and Iran. He also had visas for the
three countries.
I asked why he was in Montana instead of the Near East. The Soviet
Consulate in New York, he answered, had instructed him to ignore the visas
and report to me in Great Falls. I went immediately to Colonel Kotikov, who
showed me a wire from the Soviet Embassy directing him to facilitate the
priest’s departure. He was bound for Moscow by personal invitation from
Premier Stalin himself.
“But it isn’t safe!” I objected. “Your people have been killing priests by the
thousands!”
“Ho, ho!” Kotikov laughed. “Was years ago, during bad part of Revolution.
Today, under the great Stalin, religion in Russia very fine.” He shrugged off
the visas for Egypt, Iraq and Iran..
“Stalin wants him. Is visa enough,” he said.
Full of worry, I went back to Father Orlemanski and asked how it happened
that he, a Catholic priest, had been invited to Moscow by Joseph Stalin. He
explained that his flock was made up entirely of Poles, by nativity or heritage,
and that he had been besieged with questions, which he could not answer,
about the fate of the Catholic religion in their homeland. Would it be
suppressed? Would it be allowed to survive? Would it be tolerated for an
interval and then destroyed? Had the hour not come for trying to bring about
good relations between the Vatican and Kremlin?
Believing in direct action, Father Orlemanski sat down and wrote an appeal
to the one man in the world who had the answers.
No letter could have been more providential for Stalin. He was preparing to
swallow Poland, a morsel notoriously indigestible. There was urgent need of
help from quarters which were Polish and non-Communist. Father Orlemanski
was both. That he was also an American, and beyond all else a Catholic
priest, was too good to be true.
It happened that the Springfield cleric had published some writings on the
position due to labor in society. The son and pastor of workingmen, and
himself no stranger to manual labor, he had advanced ideas on the subject.
His writings came into Stalin’s hands.
The result was one in which the priest saw the hand of God. Through the
Soviet Consulate in New York he received a cordial invitation to go to Moscow
as Stalin’s personal guest, for a discussion across the table of the matters
cited in his letter.
“When Mr. Stalin invited me,” the priest told a correspondent in Moscow
named Harrison E. Salisbury, “he sent a message to Mr. Roosevelt and asked
him if it was all right for me to come over and, if it was, to fix it up about my
travel papers.”
Out of his native independence, Father Orlemanski responded with
demands so uncompromising that they might have served as an example for
the White House and State Department. He had the boldness to dictate the
three conditions under which he would accept Stalin’s invitation:
(1) He would not travel to Moscow unless there was a sworn
understanding that he would talk with Stalin himself.
(2) In case of an attempt to elude the promise after he got there,
and foist some lesser person upon him, he would take the next
plane home.
(3) Under no circumstances would he travel with Professor Oscar
Lange, who had been suggested as a companion.
I told Father Orlemanski that transportation would not be available till the
following afternoon. So I phoned for a reservation at the Rainbow Hotel and
asked him to tell me about himself.
He was 54 years old, and pastor of Our Lady of the Rosary Church on
Franklin Street, Springfield, Mass. His father was an immigrant from Posen
who had come with his young bride to Erie, PA, in 1876. Then had ten
children, five girls and five boys, of whom four became priests. The elder
Orlemanski started life in America as a common laborer, but gained a modest
fortune in the contracting business. In 1912 he won a Carnegie medal for
heroism: he had risked his life in an effort to snatch a stranger from death in a
railroad accident.
In 1917, two years after ordination, Father Orlemanski was sent to
Springfield to found a parish in a settlement of Polish-Americans who were
employed in local mills. There were only 80 families, but the number grew in
27 years to 965, aggregating bout 3,000 souls. Beginning with a rented
tenement, he developed a parish center, not without fame, which covered
more than a city block and was valued at half a million dollars. It boasted a
school, convent, community house, rectory and an extraordinary new church,
dedicated in 1940. Most of the construction was done with their own hands by
men and boys of the parish, who gave their work free. As carpenter, plasterer
and painter, the priest toiled shoulder to shoulder with the others. He himself designed the church. He finished with an expression that was very old fashioned
and somehow touching in an era of installment buying and public
deficits: “There isn’t a penny of debt!”
By this time I began to feel protective toward Father Orlemanski. Though
not a Catholic, I was moved by his courage, simplicity and faith. I asked
whether he had flown before. He had never been on a plane, and had traveled
from New York to Great Falls by railway, at his own expense. He had no
parachute.
“Do I need one?” he asked.
Under regulations, he could not board a plane without it and it would be
useful in getting to the ground, I said, if anything happened. He looked so
disturbed that on impulse I offered to lend him my own. But he must be sure to
return it, as the Army would charge me $125 if it were lost. (The parachute
arrived by express several weeks later.) To show how the apparatus worked, I
buckled it over his black coat.
“Father,” I warned, “if you do have to jump, don’t start praying until you’ve
counted to ten and pulled the release handle. After that, you can pray your
hardest.” He laughed, and said he would remember. I saw him to the hotel
and asked him to lunch at the Officers’ Club at 11 A.M. the next day.
We entered the club with Colonel Kotikov, in Red Army uniform. Eyes
bulged and jaws dropped. While the Colonel chatted with other Soviet officers,
I was glad to have the priest to myself, for I had another question, and a
serious one. Did he have the sanction of the Catholic Church for his one-man
crusade?
A look of distress crossed his face. To be frank, he admitted, he was acting
against orders from his superior. This was the Most Rev. Thomas M. O’Leary,
Bishop of Springfield, who has since died. He had told Bishop O’Leary of the invitation from Stalin, and had been expressly forbidden to accept it. “There
were fences,” he said, “and I had to leap over them.”
He realized that if he went to Russia, it would have to be as a private
individual. The Church must not be committed in any way. If he got back alive,
and had accomplished something of benefit, the rest would be up to the
Bishop. The priest had applied for his first vacation in 30 years and it had
been granted. So here he was in Great Falls, severed temporarily from his
parish and free, as he imagined, to act on his own.
I had thought of a small service that would make the trip to Fairbanks more
pleasant. Going to the ready-room where pilots waited for assignment, I asked
whether any of them spoke Polish. A stocky, blonde lad, whose name I have
forgotten, came forward.
I introduced him to Father Orlemanski before the take-off. They broke into
happy exchange in their own tongue as Colonel Kotikov and I walked with
them to the C-47. The priest’s farewell word to me was: “Bless you, Major, for
such a good Polish pilot!” I went to my office and wrote in the date-book: “Rev.
S. Orelmanski departed for Moscow, 14:40.”
At Fairbanks, it appears, the transport halted only long enough to take on
gas and a Soviet pilot. Father Orlemanski had no chance to dismount. It
seems probable that no one at Ladd Field knew he was aboard. The first night
was spent in Siberia, at the third airfield beyond Nome. According to my list, it
was Nova Marinsk.
The flight across Asia was punishing. Winter still prevailed. Due to cold,
altitude or motor noise, or all together, the priest’s hearing was permanently
injured. There was a day when the plane got lost. The pilot was too stubborn
to consult his maps or too proud to admit that he didn’t know how to use them.
Father Orlemanski was accustomed to taking charge and making decisions.
He got out the maps, identified points on the ground and convinced the pilot
he was 150 miles off the course.
He arrived in Moscow on April 25, and was promptly fastened upon by
Professor Lange. They were in a theater at 10 P.M. when a messenger
notified Father Orlemanski that a car was waiting to drive him to the Kremlin.
He arose, and so did Lange. The priest halted.
“If this man is going along, I’ll stay here,” he announced.
The economist dropped back into his seat and the priest went alone to
meet Stalin.
Also present at the Kremlin were Molotov and the interpreter,
Pavlov.
No respecter of persons and the son of a fearless man, the priest talked to
Stalin as if he were a member of his own parish. At emphatic moments he did
not hesitate to pound the table and shake his finger in the autocrat’s face. He
addressed the Generalissimo as “Mr. Stalin” or simply “Stalin.” Flatly he
declared that Poland must never have Communist rule, but a government
modeled on the American system.
For his part, the wily Stalin acted to perfection a role that was to take in
Americans more worldly than Father Orlemanski. Such a performance tricked
President Truman into praising him as “good old Joe,” and led General Arnold,
returning from Teheran, to swear that Stalin was not a Communist at all, but
the soundest of democrats.
In every respect he was the jolly, flattering host, full of deference and good
humor. He made jokes, and laughed heartily at those cracked by the priest.
Throughout he used the respectful title “Father.” No offense was taken when
the pastor charged that Communism was persecuting the Catholic Church. On
the contrary, Stalin protested, he was an ardent champion of liberty of conscience and worship. After a decent resistance, he admitted that Father
Orlemanski was right about everything.
When he saw that the spell had taken effect, Stalin got down to business.
At Sumy, he revealed, was the Red Army’s first detachment of Polish recruits,
numbering 8,000. For the moment, at least, they had been christened the
“Kosciuszko Division.”
Tadeusz Kosciuszko, one of Russia’s most formidable enemies, was a
hero of the American Revolution, an aide to General Washington and an
honorary citizen of the United States. Father Orlemanski himself was the
founder of a society in America named the “Kosciuszko League.” Visibly he
was enchanted by what seemed the happiest of omens.
If he liked, Stalin went on, it would be possible to arrange for Father
Orlemanski to inspect the camp, and perhaps speak a few words to his
countrymen. The pastor accepted gratefully, and in his enthusiasm consented
to a further proposal that he should address the Polish people over the radio.
Two and a half hours had passed when the session broke off.
“You won’t believe me,” Father Orlemanski exclaimed afterward to a friend,
“but when Stalin was talking to me I couldn’t help thinking to myself: ‘There is
a man who would make a good priest!’” Stalin, it has been said, trained for the
priesthood in his youth.
The Washington Bureau of the Tass Agency broke the story for the
morning papers of April 28. It was confirmed by Radio Moscow. All the globe
was electrified by news that Stalin and Molotov had been in conference with a
Catholic priest from America. Dispatches stated that no Catholic priest had
entered Russia, at least openly, since 1934. Only rarely, they emphasized, did
Stalin receive a private person, and almost never a religious one.
Russian newspapers, on April 29, gave the episode a play reserved for
guests at highest official rank. On front pages were headlines and group
photos of Stalin, Molotov and Father Orlemanski. It was noted that the
Generalissimo was smiling broadly.
In the United States this caused a tumult. Polish cliques branded Father
Orlemanski as a man of “divided loyalties.” The Springfield chancellor
announced that “diocesan authorities had no knowledge of the pastor’s trip to
Russia” and that the journey “was made on his own initiative, without
permission.”
Speaking for the National Catholic Welfare Conference, the Rt. Rev.
Monsignor Michael J. Ready, its general secretary, described the mission as
“a political burlesque, staged and directed by capable Soviet agents.” He
added pointedly that one would like to know “the exact part our own
government had in the performance.”
Secretary Hull admitted that the State Department had supplied passports
to Russia for Father Orelemanski and Professor Lange. They went as private
citizens, he declared, and in no way represented the American government.
Both had been invited to Moscow by Soviet authorities.
At a news conference, the President diverted inquiries from himself to the
chief of the Passport Division, Mrs. Ruth B. Shipley. Everyone knew her
severity in granting passports, he pointed out, and whenever an applicant got
by Mrs. Shipley, it was certain the law had been complied with.
One midnight, toward the end of April, I was aroused by a telephone call
from New York or Washington. The speaker was a woman correspondent for
a wire service. She asked whether I had cleared a Catholic priest through
Great Falls to Moscow.
She repeated the question in several forms, taking care not to mention
Father Orlemanski’s name. I was sleepy and shivering with cold. I instructed
her that any information about Father Orlemanski must come from Colonel
William Westlake, chief of public relations for the Army Air Forces.
“Thank you, Major,” the girl chuckled, “you’ve told me exactly what I wanted
to know.”
Newspapers revealed the next morning that Father Orlemanski had been
routed through Great Falls. The airfield’s gates were thronged with reporters,
who waylaid mechanics and crewmen and learned from them that a Catholic
priest had been walking with me.
A general in Washington got me on the phone. Had I seen the
newspapers? I had. “Well,” he shouted, “you’ve certainly stuck your neck in a
sling! What right had you to put a priest on a plane and send him to Moscow?”
The voice was full of menace.
I hastened to remind him that Father Orlemanski, in addition to a passport,
had two permits from the War Department, covering the Western Defense
Command and the Alaska Defense Force. Evidently this was news to the
General. There was a pause. In a very different tone, he muttered: “Oh. I see!”
He hung up, and that was the last I heard from the Pentagon.
In the meantime, Father Orlemanski visited the “Kosciuszko Division” at
Sumy. A special train was put at his disposal for the four-day trip. He was
pleased to note that the men were duly provided with Catholic chaplains. He
assured them in a speech that he was no Communist, and led cheers for
Poland, the Soviet Union and the United States. But he declared that Stalin, to
his personal knowledge, was a true friend of Poland and the Catholic religion.
Of similar tenor was his radio address to the Polish people.
Back in Moscow, he was taken in charge by Salisbury, bureau chief in
Russia for the United Press, and by a commentator for the Columbia
Broadcasting System, James Fleming, who was a Catholic. They knew that
turmoil was raging in America, and were fearful about the reception awaiting
Father Orlemanski. The public would have only his word, they declared, that
Stalin’s intentions were friendly and peaceable. The pastor would be
“slaughtered” unless he could furnish tangible proof – something over Stalin’s
signature, for example.
On that evening the priest had a second engagement at the Kremlin, which
also lasted two and a half hours. He said: “Mr. Stalin, I have to have
something in writing, I must have some sort of statement from you to take
back to America.” The Generalissimo answered that was a “good idea.”
The remainder of the night was spent by Father Orlemanski in drafting two
documents. One was his own statement summarizing conclusions reached at
both interview. The other contained two questions, for which Stalin was asked
to give signed answers. Father Orlemanski’s statement, sanctioned by Stalin,
was released on the day the pastor left Moscow. It read in part:
Unquestionably Marshal Stalin is the friend of the Polish people. I will also
make this historical statement: Future events will prove that he is well
disposed toward the Catholic Church…
“Poland should not be a corridor through which the enemy passes at will
and destroys Russia,” said Stalin.
He really wants a strong, independent, democratic Poland to protect
herself against future aggressors.
He has no intention of meddling in the internal affairs of Poland. All he
asks for is a friendly Poland.
As to religion, the religion of our forefathers shall be the religion of the
Polish people. Marshal Stalin will not tolerate any transgressions in this
regard.
Salisbury and Fleming were delighted when Father Orlemanski produced
the other document, signed by Stalin. The document read as follows:
Translation of the answers of Marshal Stalin to questions by Rev.
Stanislaus Orlemanski.
Q. Do you think it admissible for the Soviet Government to pursue
a policy of persecution and coercion with regard to the Catholic
Church?
A. As an advocate of freedom of conscience and that of worship, I
consider such a policy to be inadmissible and precluded.
Q. Do you think that cooperation with the Holy Father, Pope Pius
XII, in the matter of the struggle against persecution and coercion
of the Catholic Church is possible?
A. I think it is possible.
Stalin invited Father Orlemanski to a third meeting, from which the priest
excused himself. He was in haste to report the success of his mission at
home. After 12 days in Russia, he departed on May 6 in jubilation.
The priest had no doubt that he had managed single-handed to negotiate a
private concordat with Stalin guaranteeing the Catholic Church against
persecution throughout the Communist world. As evidence that Christianity
was still free in Russia, the guileless cleric took with him a basket of Easter
eggs procured in Moscow.
Disillusionment began at Fairbanks, where he arrived three days later. The
War Department, alarmed by public clamor, refused him transportation to
Great Falls. Borrowing $200 from a Catholic chaplain, he took passage on a
commercial airliner and reached Seattle May 10.
His journey across the continent was accompanied by a blare of headlines.
At a press conference in Chicago, he made public the questionnaire signed by
Stalin. He was welcomed by his parishioners with music, banners and acclamation's. From Bishop O’Leary, however, came a missive ordering him
into seclusion. The charges were “disobedience” and “treating with
Communists.”
He was not helped by an announcement from the Apostolic Delegate,
Archbishop Cicognani, that Father Orlemanski, like every priest, was subject
to his Bishop. There could be an appeal, if he wished, to the Pope, but the
Apostolic Delegate had no jurisdiction.
After two days the pastor surrendered. To Bishop O’Leary he wrote a letter
of apology. An old friend and enthusiastic admirer of his accomplishments as
a parish priest, the Bishop on May 21 allowed him to celebrate Mass once
more at Our Lady of Rosary Church. His two papers, including the document
with Stalin’s signature, were sent by ordinary post with a three-cent stamp, to
Archbishop Cicognani. Presumably they are now in the Vatican archives.
Early the following June the Premier of Free Poland, Stanislaus
Mikolajczyk, arrived in Washington to offer a last desperate prayer for the life
of is country. He refused to receive Professor Lange, whom he regarded as a
notorious Soviet propagandist. Mr. Bohlen, of the State Department, sent for
Mikolajczyk.
Although Lange was a Marxist, Bohlen asked the Premier to see him in the
interest of good relations between the USSR and the United States. Unable to refuse, Mikolajczyk had to listen to Lange’s “realistic” views. Stalin, he said,
thought Poland unadapted to Communist rule, did not wish to dominate the
country and had no interest in its internal structure.
Soon afterward the Premier had a conference with Mr. Roosevelt, who
thanked him for meeting Lange and suggested that he talk also with Father
Orlemanski, “a good man, pure and decent, possibly too naive, but with the
best of intentions.” Father Orlemanski would tell him that Stalin favored
religious freedom and particularly freedom for the Catholic Church.
Father Orlemanski had reported, he went on, that Stalin was troubled by
religious separatism. Obviously he did not wish to become, like the Czars,
head of the Greek Orthodox Church. He might agree to a union of the Catholic
and Greek Orthodox faiths, with the Pope in command of both.
What did Mikolajczyk think of sending Father Orlemanski to Rome to
submit this idea to the Vatican? The Premier answered dryly that he would be
ready to believe in Stalin’s sincerity after he released many Catholic priests
still held in Soviet prisons.
Poland was sold down the river at Yalta in February, 1945. Three months
later Stalin and Harry Hopkins met companionably in Moscow to discuss the
“Government of National Unity” which was to be the intermediate step toward
that country’s absorption in the Soviet empire.
There would be 18 or 20 ministries, the dictator said, of which four would
be offered to Mikolajczyk’s faction. The rest would go to the pro-Soviet “Lublin
regime.” What would Hopkins think of Professor Lange as a member of the
new Cabinet?
The only objection offered by Hopkins was that the economist might be
unwilling to give up his American citizenship, which was only two years old.
Shortly afterward Lange was in Warsaw getting himself re-naturalized as a
Pole.
It was decided that he should become Ambassador to the United States.
For an obscure pedagogue, he proved to have unparalleled backing. Former
Ambassador Davies entreated him in a letter to accept the appointment for the
sake of Soviet-American friendship. Arthur Bliss Lane, Ambassador to Poland,
warned the State Department that Lange had been known for years as a
Communist sympathizer, but his warning was ignored. On July 5, 1945
Poland’s Stalinist government was recognized by the United States and the
United Kingdom.
As for Father Orlemanski, he is still pastor of Our Lady of the Rosary
Church. But events in East Europe have taught him that the only freedom of
religion tolerated by Communism is freedom to serve as an organ of the state;
and that Communist cooperation with any creed is impossible save on terms
of overlord and vassal.
One condition of his reinstatement was a promise of silence regarding the
mission to Moscow. He is quoted, however, as reflecting sadly: “Stalin tried to
use me and I tried to use him, for the good of my Church. He won and I lost.”
It is possible that he finds a bit of comfort in remembering the occasion on
which Stalin took him to admire Lenin’s tomb. The priest said to Stalin: “I
suppose you’ll be having a bigger one.” Then he looked him in the eye and
said: “Because you know, Stalin, you too will die some day, like the rest of us.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
How Russia Got U.S. Treasury Plates
I returned to Great Falls, for the first time as an Army Officer, on June 13th,
since I had just been replaced by Lieutenant George Walewski Lashinski. I
was due to speak in Omaha on the 16th, and this was my last chance to say
good-by to my friends, including Colonel Kotikov.
On a personal level, I had always been very friendly with the Colonel; he
was one of the most unusual people I had ever known, and he had many
likable traits as a human being. It was only when politics intervened, or orders
came to him from above, that his attitude and manners became difficult.
During our farewell talk, Colonel Kotikov mentioned the “money plane”
which had crashed in Siberia and had been replaced. I asked what he meant
by “money plane.” The U.S. Treasury, he explained, was shipping engraving
plates and other materials to Russia, so that they could print the same
occupation money for Germans as the United States was printing.
I was certain he was mistaken. I was quite sure that never in history had we
let money plates go out of the country. How could there be any control over
their use? “You must mean, Colonel,” I said, “that we have printed German
occupation money for Russia and shipped the currency itself.”
“No, no,” he replied. He insisted that plates, colored inks, varnish, tint
blocks, sample paper – these and similar materials had gone through Great
Falls in May in two shipments of five C-47's each. The shipments had been
arranged on the highest level in Washington, and the planes had been loaded
at the National Airport.
I was still incredulous, but I was impressed enough to pass these remarks
on to Colonel Bernard C. Hahn, the Air Force Inspector who had come on as
a result of my trip to Washington.
Not until 1950 did I learn all the particulars about these money plates. The
full story has never been released to the general public, and only a few people
in Washington seem to know the details of this Lend-Lease scandal. I see no
reason why every citizen should not know how his public servants handled
such a grave matter in wartime.
The sum of money which we lost in redeeming the marks which the
Russians rolled off their presses, with no accountability whatever, appears to
have been $250,000,000! It was not until September, 1946, that we put a stop
to the siphoning of our treasury by refusing to redeem further marks. By this
time the plates had been in Russian hands over two years.
At the closed hearing in June 1947 Senator Styles Bridges, chairman of
the Committee on Appropriations, inquired of Assistant Secretary of War
Howard C. Petersen:
“Does Russia still have the plates, so far as you know?”
Mr. Petersen: As far as I know, they still have the plates.
Chairman Bridges: And as far as you know, are they still printing
the currency?
Mr. Petersen: As far as I know, they are still printing the currency.
Chairman Bridges: And has there been any protest from this
Government endeavoring to stop them?
Mr. Petersen: There have been strenuous efforts from the Allied
Control Council in Berlin to obtain an accounting from the
Russians as to the amount of Allied military marks which they
have issued. Those efforts have been unsuccessful. [1]
Senator Bridges and Mr. Petersen had previously had this exchange:
Chairman Bridges: Was there any action taken by the War Department
to restrict the number of notes issued by the Russians?
Mr. Petersen: The answer of the War Department is “No.”
Chairman Bridges: And as far as you know, was there any action
taken by the State or the Treasury Department to restrict Russia
in the number of notes she would issue?
Mr. Petersen: To my knowledge, none. [2]
Mr. Petersen later stated: “I know when we stopped the use of
them (the Allied marks) in Germany. It was September 1946.”
Here is the exchange between Senator William F. Knowland of
California and Assistant Secretary Petersen:
Senator Knowland: As I understand, there are $380,000,000 more
currency redeemed than there were appropriations for?
Mr. Petersen: That is correct.
Senator Knowland: And you expect eventually that that amount
will be cut down to $160,000,000; is that right?
Mr. Petersen: Yes…
Senator Knowland: Now what I would like to ask is, what is the
amount outstanding as of, let us say, the end of last month (May,
1947)?
Mr. Petersen: That is $340,000,000. [3]
The hearing continued for two days. At its end there were 141 printed
pages of oral testimony, and in addition 31 pages of State Department
documents, 59 pages of Treasury Department documents, and 474 pages of
War Department documents. From the mass of unreleased material it is
possible to reconstruct the story chronologically, step by step.
It started in early 1944, when the need for uniform occupation currency in
Germany was acknowledged by the Allies. On January 29th Ambassador
Averell Harriman informed our State Department from Moscow:
“Great importance is attached by the British Government to the Russian
Government’s participation in this arrangement. [4]
Cordell Hull informed Harriman on February 8th that the U.S. would be glad to
print the money for Russia.
“The production of sufficient currency to take care of Soviet
requirements, if desired, is being contemplated. [5]
On February 15th Moscow’s answer came from Harriman:
“The Commissariat for Finance considers that in preparing the currency
it would be more correct to print a part of it in the Soviet Union in order
that a constant supply of currency may be guaranteed to the Red Army…
It will be necessary to furnish the Commissariat for Finance, in
order that the M-marks may be of identical design, with plates of
all denominations, a list of serial numbers, and models of paper
and colors for printing.”
The Russian technique was clever: Don’t ask whether your demand will be
met; ask when it will be met. Harriman’s cable ended as follows:
“Molotov asks in conclusion that he be informed when the Commissariat
for Finance may receive the prints, models of paper and colors and list of
serial numbers. Please instruct.” [6]
Secretary Hull took over a month before replying on March 23:
“It is not expected that the Combined Chiefs of Staff will favor the
delivery of plates to the Russians.” [7]
However, other departments of the Government were also being
consulted. Inside the Treasury Department great concern was expressed by
two veteran civil servants, Mr. D.W. Bell, Under Secretary of Treasury, and
Mr. A.W. Hall, Director of the Bureau of Engraving. In a memorandum to his
immediate superior Bell stated:
“It would be very difficult to make the plates available to the Russians,
The Treasury had never made currency plates available to anybody.” [8]
Mr. Hall reported to the same superior, pointing out the gravity of the
problem of accountability. His memorandum said:
"To acquiesce to such an unprecedented request would create serious
complications. To permit the Russian Government to print currency
identical to that being printed in this country would make accountability
impossible…
The present contractor for the printing of invasion currency for
Germany is under heavy bond to insure against the
misappropriation, loss, or improper use of plates, paper, and
printed currency.
I do not believe that under any circumstances would the
contractor agree to the manufacture of duplicate plates by any
agency outside of his plant. Furthermore, it is doubtful that the
Treasury Department could force him to do so. Almost certainly
his bond would become forfeit if such an arrangement were
resorted to." [9]
The immediate superior of Mr. Bell and Mr. Hall was a relative newcomer to
the Treasury Department named Harry Dexter White. Revealing testimony
about Mr. White has been made by Whittaker Chambers in his recent book,
Witness:
In the persons of Alger Hiss and Harry Dexter White, the Soviet military
intelligence sat close to the heart of the United States Government. It
was not yet in the cabinet room, but it was not far outside the door…
Harry Dexter White had become Assistant Secretary of the
Treasury. In a situation with few parallels in history, the agents of
an enemy power were able to do much more than purloin
documents.
They were in a position to influence the nation’s foreign policy in
the interests of the nation’s chief enemy, and not only on
exceptional occasions like Yalta (where Hiss’ role, while
presumably important, is still ill-defined), or through the Morgenthau Plan for the destruction of Germany (which is
generally credited to White), but in what must have been the
staggering sum of day-to-day decisions. [10]
With this clue in hand, the day-to-day progress of the decision on the
engraving plates makes fascinating reading. Mr. Bell again conferred with
Harry Dexter White.
He pointed out that the plates which had been engraved for the Treasury
Department were, in fact, the property of the Forbes Company in Boston and if
we insisted that they should make duplicate sets available to the Russians, it
is possible that the Forbes Company would simply refuse to print any further
currency for us, on the grounds that security control had been removed and
they could not be responsible for anything that might happen to the printing of
the currency from that time on. [11]
He added that not only could the U.S. print all the currency the Russians
could possibly desire, but
“we could have the first shipment ready for them before the Russians
could start manufacturing currency from plates that we might make
available to them.”
What did Henry Dexter White think of all this?
White said that he
…
had read with considerable interest the memorandum of March 3 from
Mr. Hall to Mr. Bell on this subject, but he was somewhat troubled with
the views expressed therein, which indicated that we could not make
these plates available to the Russians…
Mr. White reiterated that he was loath to turn the Russian request down
without further review of the matter. He called attention to the fact that in this
instance we were not printing American currency, but Allied currency and that Russia was one of those allies who must be trusted to the same degree and
to the same extent as the other allies. [12]
Never, of course, had any other ally asked for engraving plates nor had we
supplied them. We had printed other occupation currency for use in Italy and
Japan, and our other allies were perfectly satisfied with this arrangement, but
Mr. White made no reference to this.
Mr. White then records his meeting with Ambassador Gromyko at the
Soviet Embassy in Washington on the evening of March 22. He relates that
Gromyko
“kept coming back with a question which he asked a number of times,
namely, why the Forbes Company should object to giving a duplicate set
of plates to his Government. He said that after all the Soviet Government
was not a private corporation or an irresponsible government. I
explained to him how both the Forbes Company and the American
Banknote Company felt but I am afraid he remained unimpressed with
the reasons I offered.” [13]
At no point did Mr. White say that our Government, for which he was in this
instance the spokesman, objected to providing duplicate plates because this
would make accountability impossible. There was only the integrity of two
American business firms with which to meet Russian demands and protect the
interests of the United States.
The State Department also heard from Mr. Harriman in Moscow that
“the Russians could not accept the explanation of a private printing
company interfering with the program under consideration. The Russians
asked that they be told whether the plates would or would not be made
available to them. In the event the plates were not made available, they
were prepared to proceed with the printing of their own variety of mark
currency.” [14]
This threat had the desired effect.
When Senator Bridges asked Assistant Secretary Petersen at the closed
hearing, “Who in the United States made the decision to turn over, to the
Russians, United States engraved printing plates for producing currency?”,
Petersen answered: “The record as I have seen it in the War Department
indicates that the decision was made by the State and Treasury
Departments…” [15]
The decision was made on April 14, 1944. It was recorded by James
Clement Dunn of the State Department in the following memorandum of his
conversation with Secretary Morgenthau. The paragraph next to last, referring
to the difficulties raised by the Forbes Company, indicates that the Treasury
Department was ready and willing to assume, under the President’s War
Powers, the responsibility which the business firms would not undertake. Here
is Mr. Dunn’s memo in full:
DEPARTMENT OF STATE
Memorandum of
TELEPHONE CONVERSATION
Date: April 14, 1944.
Subject: Duplicate plates to be furnished to the Soviet Government.
Participants: Mr. Henry Morgenthau, Jr., Secretary of the treasury;
Mr. Dunn,
Copies to: SEE – Mr. Bohlen.
Mr. Morgenthau telephoned me this morning to say that he was
informing the Soviet Ambassador this afternoon that the duplicate
plates for the printing of the Allied military mark to be used in the
invasion of Germany would be furnished to the Soviet Government in response to that Government’s request. He asked
whether the Department of State was in favor of this action.
I replied that it was the opinion of this Department from the
political point of view, aside from any military considerations or
any technical questions or difficulties, that if possible it was highly
advisable to have the duplicate plates furnished to the Soviet
Government in order that the three Governments and the three
Armies entering Germany would be using the same identical
currency.
The Soviet Government had informed us that if the plates were
not furnished to it, that Government would proceed to produce a
different currency for use in Germany. It was our opinion that it
would be a pity to lose the great advantage of having one
currency used by the three Armies, which itself would indicate a
degree of solidarity which was much to be desired not only for the
situation in Germany but for its effect on the relations in may other
aspects between the Soviet, British, and United States
Governments.
Mr. Morgenthau said he was very glad to have this expression of
the Department’s views on this question as there might be some
technical difficulties arise which would require the Treasury to
take over, under the President’s War Powers, the plant which is
now using the original plates for the production of these marks.
This question has been up between the United States and Soviet
Governments since last November, and it has become perfectly clear to us as a result of the exchanges of correspondence on the
subject that the Soviet Government is not ready to join in the
common use of the same currency unless it receives the duplicate
plates from us.
In order to convince the Soviet Government of our sincerity in the
desire to have the closest collaboration in these military
operations against Germany, it becomes essential that we make
every effort within our possibility to furnish the plates to that
Government.
JAMES CLEMENT DUNN. [16]
On the same day Secretary Morgenthau sent a memo to Soviet
Ambassador Gromyko saying,
“There will be shipped from Washington on Tuesday, April 8, glass
negatives and positives of all plates used for printing M-marks. The
designs are in negative and positive forms since it is not known which is
preferred by the Soviet Government.”
He ended by saying,
“The U.S. Treasury is desirous to cooperate with the Soviet Government
in this matter in every possible way.” [17]
It was not until May 13 that the first shipment actually left the Washington
airport. There was a comedy of errors on the second shipment, which was
supposed to leave by plane at 6 A.M. on Tuesday, May 23. Mr. Hall reported
to Mr. Bell as follows:
The material was loaded on the trucks yesterday, and a crew of men
brought in to work at 5 A.M. today (May 23), and delivery was made to
the Airport before 6 A.M…. I called Colonel Frank H. Collins (of the ATC) to ascertain whether the planes had left, and he informed me that
the crews of the five planes were standing by waiting for the
representatives of the (Soviet) Embassy. He further stated that the crews
were becoming impatient as they wanted to land at Great Falls, Montana,
before sundown. [18]
The trouble was that the Soviet Embassy had arranged for their couriers to
board he planes on May 24! The five airplanes were therefore held overnight
with “a guard in each plane, and a guard around the area where the planes
were parked.”
They left early on Wednesday, May 24, after each courier arrived with an
additional box weighing over 200 pounds. Colonel Collins said he “thought the
extra boxes contained American canned goods and American liquor.” [19]
As for the third shipment, said Mr. Hall,
“it is now necessary to uncrate all of the material and rearrange the
whole shipment. You will remember when we talked to the Ambassador
(Gromyko), he insisted upon complying strictly with instructions he
received from his government, and now that his government had
reversed itself, we have to do the job all over again.
This has been a pretty trying assignment for all associated with it.”
[20]
Was there anything else that Russia could possibly ask from the Treasury?
Yes, it could ask us to repeat one of the planeloads. That is exactly what
Gromyko asked on June first, in a note to Morgenthau which stated briefly that
“all the materials… perished in connection with a crash of the plane which
carried them.” [21] Gromyko said absolutely nothing about when the crash
occurred, or where.
Did we ask for proof of the crash, or direct any questions whatever to
Gromyko about the alleged accident? On the contrary, Secretary Morgenthau
promptly answered:
“I am pleased to inform you that the seven items representing
replacement of the materials lost in the plane crash will be ready for
shipment on Wednesday, June 7… I trust that this arrangement meets
with your approval.” [22]
Why was Russia so insistent on printing German occupation currency
without accountability? The answer is quite simple. They knew that the U.S.
Army would convert such currency into dollars. (Russia, of course, refused to
redeem the same currency with rubles.) As a result, every Russian-made
mark that fell into the hands of an American soldier or accredited civilian
became a potential charge against the Treasury of the United States.
Russia could pay its occupation army in marks, and in fact did so, adding a
two-year bonus for good measure. If the Red Army could get anything out of
the German economy with these marks, all well and good. If they could get
anything out of America, even better.
In any event, these marks cost the Russian economy nothing whatever.
With the materials provided from Washington, they took over a former Nazi
printing plant in Leipzig, deep in the Russian zone, at a safe distance from
American inspection, and started the presses rolling.
Any GI could buy a pack of cigarettes for 8 cents at a U.S. Army Post
exchange. For this the Russian and German black-markets would offer him
100 marks from the Leipzig mint. To realize a profit of almost $10 on an 8-cent
package of cigarettes, the American had only to take his 100 Leipzig marks to
an Army Post Office, purchase a $10 money order and mail it to the United
States.
It was revealed that the standard offer for a five-cent candy bar was 50
marks, or $5; $18 for one pound of Crisco; $20 for one K-ration; $25 for a
pound of coffee, and $2,500 for a wrist watch costing $17.
By December 1946, the U.S. Military Government found itself $250,000,000 or more in the red. It had redeemed in dollars at least $2,500,000,000 marks in excess of the total marks issued by its Finance Office! The deficit could have had no other origin than the Russian plant in Leipzig.
Let us read once again the War Department’s testimony at the hearing in 1947:
Chairman Bridges: Was there any action taken by the War Department to restrict the number of notes issued by the Russians?
Mr. Petersen: The answer of the War Department is “No.”
Chairman Bridges: And, as far as you know, was there any action taken by the State or the Treasury Department to restrict Russia in the number of notes she would issue?
Mr. Petersen: To my knowledge, none.
Chairman Bridges: My next question is, does Russia still have the plates, so far as you know?
Mr. Petersen: As far as I know, they still have the plates.
Chairman Bridges: And as far as you know, are they still printing the currency?
Mr. Petersen: As far as I know, they are still printing the currency.
Chairman Bridges: And has there been any protest from this Government endeavoring to stop them?
Mr. Petersen: There have been strenuous efforts from the Allied Control Council in Berlin to obtain an accounting from the Russians as to the amount of Allied military marks which they have issued. Those efforts have been unsuccessful. [23]
To everyone’s surprise, the Russians at one point agreed to submit quarterly statements of the volume of money they were putting into circulation. Their statements were so palpably rigged, however, that American officers called them “unbelievable.” In that case, smiled the Russians, it would be useless to make further reports.
It took 18 months before Russia’s siphon into the American Treasury was severed. The Army’s payroll in Germany was shifted from Allied marks to U.S. Military Certificates, which were non-convertible.
In addition to the $250,000,000, there was a further loss, which through small was mortifying. A charge of $18,102,84 was rendered to the Soviet Embassy, covering the expense of the engraving plates and the materials in the three 1944 deliveries. The bill was ignored and is still unpaid. The Russians, as Mr. Petersen indicated, still have the plates and undoubtedly a good deal of knowledge regarding U.S. currency manufacture techniques.
As for Harry Dexter White, his ascent was steady. Five months after the duplicate plates fiasco, there was a conference of the Secretaries of State, War and the Treasury at the Hopkins office in the White House. White read a prospectus for the doom of Germany: It’s people were to become a pastoral horde; their entire industrial plant would be removed or destroyed; all equipment was to be torn from the Ruhr mines, and it’s coal deposits would be “thoroughly wrecked.”
Secretary Stimson was struck with horror – an emotion which Secretary Hull shared. They learned with consternation two weeks afterward that the “Morgenthau Plan” had been initiated by President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill at the Quebec Conference of Sept. 11, 1944. To Mr. Roosevelt’s face, Secretary Hull charged that Churchill’s signature was procured by Morgenthau with an offer of $6,500,000,000 of postwar Lend/Lease for Britain. [24]
From Assistant to the Secretary, Mr. White moved up to Assistant Secretary of the Treasury in 1945. During February 1946, he was appointed by President Truman, and confirmed by the Senate as U.S. Director of the International Monetary Fund, with a tax exemption salary of $17,500.
The name of Harry White became so important in the record of the Senate committee that finally Senator Bridges suggested calling him as a witness. But White was absent from the capital on vacation. It was announced that Morgenthau and White would be placed on the stand at a future section, but this was never called.
Mr. White submitted his resignation from the International Monetary Fund on June 19, 1947, the day after the committee recessed. When the economist was put on oath the following year, he denounced the Chambers accusations as “unqualifiedly false.” He was not and never had been a Communist, White affirmed, and had committed no disloyal act. But two weeks later his funeral was held at Temple Israel in Boston: he had died of a heart attack.
In November of that year Whittaker Chambers produced five rolls of microfilmed documents. Among them were eight pages of script divulging U.S.military secrets. Found in possession of an acknowledged Communist courier, the handwriting was identified as that of Harry Dexter White.
SOURCES CHAPTER TWELVE
How Russia Got U.S. Money Plates
1. Occupation Currency Transactions Hearings before the Committee on Appropriations, Armed Services and Banking and Currency, U.S. Senate, (U.S. Government Printing Office, 1947), p. 27.
2. Ibid., p. 27.
3. Ibid., p. 8.
4. Ibid., p. 147.
5. Ibid., p. 147.
6. Ibid., p. 148.
7. Ibid., p. 150.
8. Ibid., p. 178.
9. Ibid., pp. 175-176.
10. Witness, Whittaker Chambers, (Random House, 1952), p. 427.
11. Occupation Currency Transactions Hearings, p. 178.
12. Ibid., pp. 178-179.
13. Ibid., p. 183.
14. Ibid., p. 151.
15. Ibid., p. 16-17.
16. Ibid., p. 152-53. 17. Ibid., p. 186.
18. Ibid., pp. 206-7.
19. Ibid., p. 208.
20. Ibid., p. 207.
21. Ibid., p. 208.
22. Ibid., p. 211.
23. Ibid., p. 27.
24. The Memoirs of Cordell Hull, (Macmillan, 1948), Vol. II, pp. 1613-18.
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By December 1946, the U.S. Military Government found itself $250,000,000 or more in the red. It had redeemed in dollars at least $2,500,000,000 marks in excess of the total marks issued by its Finance Office! The deficit could have had no other origin than the Russian plant in Leipzig.
Let us read once again the War Department’s testimony at the hearing in 1947:
Chairman Bridges: Was there any action taken by the War Department to restrict the number of notes issued by the Russians?
Mr. Petersen: The answer of the War Department is “No.”
Chairman Bridges: And, as far as you know, was there any action taken by the State or the Treasury Department to restrict Russia in the number of notes she would issue?
Mr. Petersen: To my knowledge, none.
Chairman Bridges: My next question is, does Russia still have the plates, so far as you know?
Mr. Petersen: As far as I know, they still have the plates.
Chairman Bridges: And as far as you know, are they still printing the currency?
Mr. Petersen: As far as I know, they are still printing the currency.
Chairman Bridges: And has there been any protest from this Government endeavoring to stop them?
Mr. Petersen: There have been strenuous efforts from the Allied Control Council in Berlin to obtain an accounting from the Russians as to the amount of Allied military marks which they have issued. Those efforts have been unsuccessful. [23]
To everyone’s surprise, the Russians at one point agreed to submit quarterly statements of the volume of money they were putting into circulation. Their statements were so palpably rigged, however, that American officers called them “unbelievable.” In that case, smiled the Russians, it would be useless to make further reports.
It took 18 months before Russia’s siphon into the American Treasury was severed. The Army’s payroll in Germany was shifted from Allied marks to U.S. Military Certificates, which were non-convertible.
In addition to the $250,000,000, there was a further loss, which through small was mortifying. A charge of $18,102,84 was rendered to the Soviet Embassy, covering the expense of the engraving plates and the materials in the three 1944 deliveries. The bill was ignored and is still unpaid. The Russians, as Mr. Petersen indicated, still have the plates and undoubtedly a good deal of knowledge regarding U.S. currency manufacture techniques.
As for Harry Dexter White, his ascent was steady. Five months after the duplicate plates fiasco, there was a conference of the Secretaries of State, War and the Treasury at the Hopkins office in the White House. White read a prospectus for the doom of Germany: It’s people were to become a pastoral horde; their entire industrial plant would be removed or destroyed; all equipment was to be torn from the Ruhr mines, and it’s coal deposits would be “thoroughly wrecked.”
Secretary Stimson was struck with horror – an emotion which Secretary Hull shared. They learned with consternation two weeks afterward that the “Morgenthau Plan” had been initiated by President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill at the Quebec Conference of Sept. 11, 1944. To Mr. Roosevelt’s face, Secretary Hull charged that Churchill’s signature was procured by Morgenthau with an offer of $6,500,000,000 of postwar Lend/Lease for Britain. [24]
From Assistant to the Secretary, Mr. White moved up to Assistant Secretary of the Treasury in 1945. During February 1946, he was appointed by President Truman, and confirmed by the Senate as U.S. Director of the International Monetary Fund, with a tax exemption salary of $17,500.
The name of Harry White became so important in the record of the Senate committee that finally Senator Bridges suggested calling him as a witness. But White was absent from the capital on vacation. It was announced that Morgenthau and White would be placed on the stand at a future section, but this was never called.
Mr. White submitted his resignation from the International Monetary Fund on June 19, 1947, the day after the committee recessed. When the economist was put on oath the following year, he denounced the Chambers accusations as “unqualifiedly false.” He was not and never had been a Communist, White affirmed, and had committed no disloyal act. But two weeks later his funeral was held at Temple Israel in Boston: he had died of a heart attack.
In November of that year Whittaker Chambers produced five rolls of microfilmed documents. Among them were eight pages of script divulging U.S.military secrets. Found in possession of an acknowledged Communist courier, the handwriting was identified as that of Harry Dexter White.
SOURCES CHAPTER TWELVE
How Russia Got U.S. Money Plates
1. Occupation Currency Transactions Hearings before the Committee on Appropriations, Armed Services and Banking and Currency, U.S. Senate, (U.S. Government Printing Office, 1947), p. 27.
2. Ibid., p. 27.
3. Ibid., p. 8.
4. Ibid., p. 147.
5. Ibid., p. 147.
6. Ibid., p. 148.
7. Ibid., p. 150.
8. Ibid., p. 178.
9. Ibid., pp. 175-176.
10. Witness, Whittaker Chambers, (Random House, 1952), p. 427.
11. Occupation Currency Transactions Hearings, p. 178.
12. Ibid., pp. 178-179.
13. Ibid., p. 183.
14. Ibid., p. 151.
15. Ibid., p. 16-17.
16. Ibid., p. 152-53. 17. Ibid., p. 186.
18. Ibid., pp. 206-7.
19. Ibid., p. 208.
20. Ibid., p. 207.
21. Ibid., p. 208.
22. Ibid., p. 211.
23. Ibid., p. 27.
24. The Memoirs of Cordell Hull, (Macmillan, 1948), Vol. II, pp. 1613-18.
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