A plan that began during World War II and continued during the postwar period, Operation Paperclip targeted top German scientists and technicians.1 The goal was to identify scientists and technicians who were working on specific projects and to bring them to the United States. Of special interest were scientists and technicians working on rocket projects, particularly the V-1 and V-2, and aerodynamics, as well as those conducting experiments with chemical weapons, chemical reaction technology, and medicine.
U.S. intelligence and military services designed and implemented Operation Paperclip without the knowledge or approval of the Department of State. They successfully brought hundreds of scientists and technicians, along with their families, to the United States. Because they did not have State Department’s approval, these people had to hide information about their service to the Third Reich and, in some cases, their membership in the SS, the SD, or the Nazi Party. These scientists and technicians worked on guided missile and ballistic missile technology and other sensitive projects before and during the war.
The goal of this chapter is to provide background on Operation Paperclip and discuss its mission and its implementation, particularly with regard to Department of State policy. Knowledge of Operation Paperclip is vital to understanding why so many Nazis were able to enter the United States—legally and illegally—and to evade punishment for so long. In some cases, even if punishment seemed to be warranted, they eluded it permanently. It must be noted first, however, that the United States was not the only nation interested in the knowledge that German scientists and technicians could provide on a variety of subject matters. Both Great Britain and the Soviet Union threw their hats into the ring and tried to put their hands on the people deemed important to their nations’ futures as well. To a certain extent the United States and Great Britain conspired together to keep numerous scientists and technicians out of the hands of the Soviet Union. Although it may seem strange that two allies conspired against the third ally, as the hot conflict faded into a cold one, the position of the United States and Great Britain toward their erstwhile ally seemed justified. All three nations wanted to expand and improve production of certain goods—such as ordnance or rockets—to facilitate an advantage in potential future conflicts, particularly as the Cold War took shape in the wake of World War II.
To achieve this objective the acquisition of certain technologies and technological know-how was crucial. Capturing the technology and the documents was only part of it. Having access to the scientists and technicians who had worked on these programs for the Nazis and who could provide possible shortcuts, particularly on the technology front, was the other part of the equation. Therefore, in the final days of the war, American, British, and Soviet forces raced against one another to capture documents, intact rockets, rocket parts, other technologies, and personnel to further their agendas. In fact, as the war in Europe ended and the participants celebrated V-E day (Victory in Europe), the British implemented a plan—Operation Backfire—during the summer and fall of 1945, in an effort to obtain as much information as possible about the German V-2 rocket program and to construct and test fire V-2 rockets with the assistance of captured German scientists and technicians. Before the ink was dry on the V-E documents, the British, like their American and Soviet counterparts, were already focused on the next phases—ending the Pacific war and preparing for the postwar world.
With the war winding down in Europe, American forces accepted the surrender of hundreds of rocket scientists and technicians and found important documents about the program from Peenemünde that had been moved for safety to the isolated village of Dörnten, which was slated as part of the British occupation area. Desiring their fair share, the British used diplomatic means to gain access to the information and people who would allow them to evaluate the German program completely.2
Recognizing the importance of the German V-2 program and wanting to utilize German technological advancements to further their own program, the British organized Operation Backfire. The goal of Operation Backfire was to conduct a thorough investigation into the German rocket program with the endgame of determining what would potentially be most directly useful to the British. The Special Projectile Operations Group, which was the British section of the Allied Air Defense Division, went on the hunt for information. The group wanted more than information, however; it wanted to be able to translate the information into usable products. For the British that usable product was a reliable rocket that would allow them to project power in the Pacific Theater, where the war was still being fought, or in a future conflict. Whether or not an eventual space program was on the table was beside the point. More immediately, the British hoped to apply successful German technology to their ordnance and to utilize additional resources to the war in the Pacific. In that sense the British were like the Americans. Ironically, V-J day, or the end of the Pacific Theater conflict, arrived before Backfire had reached its culmination.
Ultimately, Operation Backfire had three phases: (1) evaluation of the V-2 assembly, (2) interrogation of V-2 scientists and technicians, and (3) test firing of rockets across the North Sea. Unlike the Americans, who captured intact V-2 rockets, however, the British found only parts of V-2 rockets. This would make phase three more challenging to accomplish and made phases one and two that much more crucial. Phases one and two required a high degree of success if the British hoped for even modest results in phase three. Pressure for success was intense, and the window of opportunity was limited. The British would have a relatively short period in which to achieve the outcomes dictated by the three phases of Backfire. Failure was not an option.
To achieve Backfire’s goals, the British employed scientists and technicians who had worked on the Nazi’s V-2 project. When the Operation Backfire mandate had been completed, the War Office detailed the process in a report that filled five volumes. Furthermore, after the completion of Backfire, many members of the V-2 Division returned to Germany or went to the United States as part of Project Paperclip. Consequently, an examination of Operation Backfire, particularly the British employment and possible exploitation of German scientists and technicians, is the first part of the Project Paperclip story.
On 7 November 1945 Maj. Gen. A. M. Cameron, commander of the Special Projectile Operations Group, issued his report on Operation Backfire. In it, Cameron noted the mandate that he had received from the Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force, on 22 June 1945. The stated objective was “to ascertain the German technique of launching long range rockets and to prove it by actual launch. As complete, undamaged and fully tested rockets are not available, it is necessary first to assemble rockets from the available components. In addition to the primary object, the operation will therefore provide opportunity to study certain subsidiary matters such as the preparation of the rocket and ancillary equipment, the handling of fuels, and control in flight.”3
Cameron got to work, but as the war wound down, things changed a bit. On 11 August the War Office assumed responsibility for Backfire and gave Cameron further instructions. The overall primary objective would remain the same, and Cameron would still have access to the German technical staff that had already been assembled. The expectation was that Cameron and his staff would compile a complete slate of information related to the launching of long-range rockets. In addition, “The intention is that you will collect this information by carrying out the operation of assembly and filling in Germany, using German disarmed personnel supervised by British technical experts, and that the successful completion of the operation will be proved by the firing of a number of A-4 rockets. Observation of the trajectory and photographic records will be taken as far as possible and the drill employed for firing the rockets will be recorded in detail.”4
Although British and German teams would not attempt to launch a rocket until October, British interaction with captured Germans began much earlier. At the end of April, with the surrender of the German A-4 Division, personnel who built and fired A-4 rockets, the Allies chose over one hundred officers and men for interrogation. The criteria for interrogation included longevity of experience, particularly related to improvements in and launching of rockets. A month later these Germans became part of Operation Backfire. Included in the group temporarily released to the British by the Americans were Wernher von Braun, Arthur Rudolph, and Walter Dornberger. The British segregated them in a camp near Brussels and instituted even more intensive interrogations. By the beginning of July the number of Germans detained as part of Backfire had increased to 137, and the group was relocated to Altenwalde near Cuxhaven, on the North Sea near the mouth of the Elbe River.5
The complexity of building rockets soon became apparent, as did the need for more experienced personnel. Consequently, the British secured permission to obtain an additional seventy-nine technicians from the group in American custody at Garmisch-Partenkirchen. At the end of July these additional technicians joined the Backfire contingent at Cuxhaven. Because the intended program outcome exceeded the parameters of normal interrogations and because trust was an issue, the British divided the Germans into two groups. Lieutenant Colonel Weber, the senior German officer, received command of a military unit, which was created by grouping together soldiers and civilians who would work on the construction and launching of the rockets. The unit was designated the Altenwalde Versucha-Kommando. The second group, which was isolated near Brockeswalde, consisted entirely of civilian experts. The hope was that additional interrogation of these civilian experts would provide the information that would not only corroborate that provided by the other group but would also be crucial to the successful construction and launch of rockets.6 Although Lt. Gen. Walter Dornberger was held separately from the other two groups, he was transported to England a short time later. Dornberger, an army artillery officer, led the V-2 rocket program and other projects at the Peenemünde Army Research Center, which made him valuable to the British and their Allied partners.7
Negotiation between the British and the Americans over the German scientists and technicians continued during the summer and into the fall of 1945—and, to some extent, had the feel of a National Football League (NFL) draft, albeit a draft that deemed the Soviets ineligible to participate. Because they considered them valuable, the British and the Americans believed that they had the right to control the destinies of the personnel in question, particularly once Germany lost the war. Unlike a normal wartime draft in which the majority were considered eligible, the British and the Americans wanted to draft only the best—“the cream of the crop.” They did not consider this a game. It was a competition carried out by men who were more interested in acquiring assets than uncovering the dubious pasts of the Germans. They were also looking down the road to an unpromising postwar relationship with the Soviets. Furthermore, although they were not given a choice about being drafted, most German scientists and technicians, in all likelihood, would have chosen exploitation by the British or the Americans over the Soviets. Some, like Wernher von Braun, just wanted to continue their research. All of the players had an agenda. For the British and the Americans, it was fast-tracking their knowledge base to end the war on their terms. For the Germans it was a different future with the possibility of long-term employment instead of scrambling for their livelihood in Germany or facing a dubious lifetime under the control of the Soviets.
Events, however, diminished the Americans’ early willingness to cooperate with the British regarding the temporary assignment of personnel prior to the conclusion of negotiations. Because the fight against the Japanese had not ended, the Americans requested the return of twenty-six civilians who were viewed as essential to the development of weapons for use in that conflict. The British, however, believed the transfer of these civilians back to the Americans would be detrimental to the successful completion of Backfire. While the two sides negotiated the fate of the contested civilians, the war in the Pacific ended. Under the terms of the agreement reached, however, the British returned fourteen civilians to the Americans and agreed to transfer the remaining twelve at the conclusion of Backfire.
Throughout this period the status, pay, and housing of the German soldiers and civilians were repeatedly evaluated. The British promised pay incentives to ensure cooperation. Included among the 600 Germans who participated in Backfire were 70 A-4 technicians and 128 A-4 Division troops.8 Discussion between the British and the Americans over the “ownership” of German scientists and technicians also continued throughout this period, and the two sides negotiated and renegotiated that ownership. This dance foreshadowed postseason player exchanges, although there was no free agency involved. In many respects this part of the story is the most interesting. As the British and the Americans played “pass the rocketeers,” two factors remained uppermost in their discussions. Each wanted to have access to the scientists and technicians who would best further their own weapon and rocket programs. Furthermore, both wanted to keep the German scientists and technicians out of the Soviets’ hands, even though they had to acknowledge that the Soviets were crucial allies in the war that had just concluded. Not verbalizing that acknowledgment, however, also meant that the British and Americans could ignore the fact that they were figuratively stabbing their former ally in the back with their efforts to maintain control over the captured scientists and technicians.
Not only was the exchange of German scientists and technicians between Great Britain and the United States a contentious topic between the two countries, but it also sparked debate within the British government. As the British learned, reaching agreement over the German experts was not easy, whether it was the result of an internal debate or negotiations with their American Allies. For example, in a deputy chiefs of staff document dated 12 September 1945 and drafted in response to FMW 168, the author identified the previously agreed-on policy and noted that the committee was revisiting the issue, which was an indication of the fluidity of the situation. According to the memo, “Allocation of German scientists and technicians to be settled in Washington or London on the basis of requirements tabled by the Americans and ourselves. Each party to have the right to include in their lists personnel at present situated in either the British or American zones. Where both parties want the same individual and an acceptable substitute cannot be agreed approximate equality of allocation between the United States and the British Empire should be presumed.”9 The bottom line for the British, however, was the continuation of good relations with their American Allies, as is evidenced by the minutes from the 13 September meeting of the deputy chiefs of staff. The minutes clearly articulated their position: “There was general agreement that Anglo-American co-operation was more important than any question of using Germans in one country or the other.”10
Which country—Britain or America—would have control over particular officers, scientists, and technicians was not easily resolved. Even as the British were conducting Backfire, discussions about “ownership” continued and were particularly contentious when both sides tried to draft someone or “claimed the same person.” The personnel at Cuxhaven generally remained unaware of the negotiations going on in the background as they focused on their work. As indicated earlier, there were two separate groups working on the project. The technical group focused on the rockets and was tasked with both building and repairing them. The availability of materials proved frustrating at times, but the group worked well with their British counterparts in an effort to construct rockets that could be successfully tested.11
The second group provided information about field procedures to the British Field Staff, which assumed responsibility for the actual firing of the rockets once construction and repairs were completed. Col. W. S. J. Carter had command of the British Field Staff. The firing troop, although understaffed, consisted of 107 German operational personnel. The limitation of personnel meant that some of the operational personnel worked with the technical group to rebuild rockets and ground equipment. As a result, “elaborate rehearsals of the field operations” was not possible during the reconstruction stage. With the target date for the first launch set for 1 October, teams conducted launch rehearsals during the last week of September.12
On 1 October the first rocket was put into launch position. The gray skies perhaps foretold the outcome of the first attempt to launch a rocket. Two unsuccessful efforts were made to launch. Ignition failed to occur because the steam unit valves would not open. When attempts to resolve the problems and achieve a successful launch on 1 October did not come to fruition, the British Field Staff made the decision to postpone the launch for a day and to attempt it with a different rocket. Crews reconvened on 2 October. The day could not have been better for a launch. The sky was clear, and wind was minimal. At 2:43 p.m. the rocket left the launch pad. As Cameron noted in his report, “This was the first A-4 launching to be observed by Allied personnel at close quarters.” Although the rocket was only in the air for just under five minutes, it reached a maximum height of 43.1 miles and a range of 155.0 miles.13
Two days later teams returned to the launch pad with another rocket for the next test fire. With clear skies and no wind, conditions were again perfect. Having been repaired, the rocket, which had not launched on 1 October, returned to the pad for another attempt. At 2:15 p.m. liftoff occurred. This time, because of engine failure, the rocket remained aloft for only slightly more than two minutes. Its maximum height was 10.8 miles, and its range was 14.9 miles. Although the launch was successful, the rocket’s performance was disappointing. The mitigating factor this time was engine failure; the result was minimal success.14
Crews would have one more chance to get it right. The final launch date was 15 October. A number of representatives, including some from the United States and the Soviet Union, were on hand. Because the proximity of Cuxhaven to the Soviet zone made a secret launch unlikely, the British invited Soviet observers to be present, which allowed the British to control the amount and type of information that they shared. Weather conditions were less than ideal. Low clouds obscured the view, and surface winds of thirty miles per hour were potentially problematic. Since this test was meant to be a demonstration more than anything else, the Backfire team made the decision to proceed. The third rocket left the launch pad without a hitch at 3:06 p.m. and remained in flight for four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Although its behavior was normal, the rocket fell short and slightly off target. Its maximum height reached 39.8 miles, and its flight range was 144.8 miles. Although less than perfect, the launch achieved its purpose and received a “success” rating.15
With the October rocket launches completed, it was time to dismantle the program and write an after-action report, which Cameron completed a short time later. Dismantlement did not, however, resolve one issue—what to do with the Germans officers, scientists, and technicians who had participated in Backfire. Discussion on various topics related to the Germans continued for some time after the operation’s completion. At no point, however, did Soviet access to the personnel in question receive serious consideration—this despite the fact that Soviet representatives witnessed the final Backfire test on 15 October. Two weeks later, on 29 October, Group Captain Wilson received a memorandum titled “Exploitation of German Scientists.” It referenced earlier “British proposals for the co-ordinated exploitation of German Scientists and Technicians in the United States and the United Kingdom” that had been put on the table for discussion a month earlier. Although no official reply had been received, the memorandum articulated the British understanding of the next step. Both countries would construct lists of the German personnel whom they wanted to acquire. The lists would provide a starting point for negotiations. British and American archives include numerous versions of those lists along with accounts of efforts to resolve ownership of jointly claimed scientists and technicians. It was a continuation of the draft discussions that had begun months earlier. Although the war was over, the desire to acquire experts, particularly in rocketry, remained. Understanding the technology would translate to better weaponry for future conflicts or in the short term as potential deterrents to their former ally, soon to be a Cold War adversary. The memorandum also identified the machinery to be employed during the negotiation process and proposed the exchange of completed work products.16
The exchange of German scientists and technicians with the Americans was not the British government’s only concern. It also had to make decisions about factors related to those Germans who would reside in Britain for an unspecified period of time, including the length of their employment, pay, housing, and families. For example, the Cabinet Office had to address parliamentary questions about the future use of both personnel and information that were raised by the Board of Trade in December 1945. In crafting a response, the Cabinet Office stated,
It is the Government’s policy to secure from Germany a knowledge of scientific and technical developments that will be of benefit to this country and to make such knowledge available to those who can use it. This step seems desirable since although we were generally ahead, there were certain fields in which the Germans held a temporary lead. As part of this policy it is proposed to recruit, on the recommendation of the responsible department, a strictly limited number of German scientists and technicians of the highest grade for service in this country. Any Germans brought in under this scheme must be politically unobjectionable and they will be subject to strict supervision while they are here. They will be allowed to land in the first instance for a period of 6 months and any prolongation of this period will be made in consultation with my Rt. Hon. Friend the Secretary of State for Home Affairs.17
The Cabinet Office then delineated the kind of acceptable government work that these “aliens” could perform. While acknowledging that some Germans could be hired by “individual firms,” their employment would be predicated on the fact that there were no British citizens available. Furthermore, even if they worked for private companies, these Germans would still be considered “Servants of the State.” The Cabinet Office, to some extent, justified its position by noting that the Americans and the Soviets had adopted similar policies.18
What the records do not indicate is the extent to which the Germans scientists and technicians were willing participants in this process. Additional examination may reveal more of this side of the story. What is apparent, however, is that some Germans learned that there were perhaps unexpected consequences of cooperation with the British. For example, the British War Crimes Investigation Unit questioned Dornberger about the use of slave labor for V-2 rocket construction. As director of the V-2 program, he did have legitimate questions to answer. The British eventually allowed Dornberger, who spent two years in detention, to transfer to the United States under Operation Paperclip. Despite British warnings about Dornberger, whom they called a “menace of the first order,” the Americans, not to be deterred, gave him a contract shortly after his release from British custody and chose to ignore his alleged connection to the use of slave labor. After signing his Paperclip contract on 12 July 1947, Dornberger spent the next three years developing guided missiles for the U.S. Air Force before gaining employment in the private sector at Bell Aircraft. Living a charmed life, Dornberger’s past did not come back to haunt him. Not only did he achieve career success as a senior vice president for Bell Aerosystems Division, but his previous work with the U.S. Air Force also opened doors for him and afforded him the security clearances that allowed him to liaise with military agencies.19 Although Dornberger—despite his past—was a success story, not all of the American associations with German scientists and technicians were as smooth sailing as Dornberger’s.
As noted, the Americans faced some of the same issues as the British when they considered importing captured scientists and technicians for critical wartime and postwar work. In fact, the Americans and the British conducted discussions during the summer of 1945 in an effort to craft policies and procedures for the appropriate importation of these captured assets. On 6 July the War Department, General Staff (WDGS), constructed a document enumerating the “principles and procedures,” which were to govern the “exploitation of German specialists in science and technology in the United States,” and sent it to the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS), the British Chiefs of Staff, and the Navy Department for review. All three weighed in on the WDGS’s proposed policies. The JCS accepted the policies as articulated. Not wishing to be committed completely, the British Chiefs of Staff hedged its bets by signing on to participation “in principle.” The Navy Department agreed to cooperate with the stated policies, but with a caveat. It would do so if the War Department maintained “administrative control.”20
The new directive acknowledged that the WDGS envisioned procedures that would permit the “exploitation of chosen, rare minds whose continuing intellectual productivity we wish to use.”21 The directive clearly articulated the WDGS plan for exploitation:
The specialists brought to the United States will be those whose exploitation to the fullest cannot be accomplished in Europe and whose presence here will enable them to fit in as a part of a definite program of activity of a continuing character. Careful selection will be made by the Assistant Chief of Staff, G-2, WDGS for those German specialists whose actual presence is indispensable.
No known or alleged war criminals should be brought to the United States. If any specialists who are brought to this country are subsequently found to be listed as alleged war criminals, they should be returned to Europe for trial.
To improve the chances of cooperation on the part of the specialists, protection should be afforded dependent members of their immediate families while the specialists are in the country. The specialists are to be paid a modest per diem from funds under the control of the Secretary of War.
The purpose of this plan should be understood to be temporary military exploitation of the minimum number of German specialists necessary. In these instances where exploitation is completed, the specialists will be returned to Europe.22
Ironically, the program did employ alleged war criminals, whose pasts were somewhat obscured, and was, at the end of the day, anything but temporary. In addition, President Harry S. Truman was unaware of the WDGS exploitation plan. Although the WDGS’s intentions were quite mercenary, one must remember that at the time the directive was crafted, the United States was still at war. The Germans might have waved the white flag, but the Japanese had yet to do so. Furthermore, Truman had not yet approved the use of an atomic bomb against the Japanese city of Hiroshima.
Although the American program was ultimately known by its code name Paperclip, Operation Overcast was the initial U.S. importation policy created by the JCS, but plans for tapping into a wellspring of knowledge—albeit generated by the enemy—actually predated Operation Overcast. As early as 1943, U.S. officials, including the chief of staff, George Marshall, turned their attention to an issue of primary importance—the state of the German atomic bomb program. Although they asked a number of elementary questions, at the end of the day, it all boiled down to one question. How close were the Germans to producing a weapon of this caliber? Crucial to answering that question were all related materials, including documents, equipment, and the scientists and technicians who were involved in atomic bomb research for the Reich. To that end, an Alsos Mission had the task of locating those who played an integral role in the German atomic bomb program.
The Alsos Mission was the code name for the intelligence-gathering operation that fell under the auspices of the Manhattan Engineer District. Falling under the umbrella of the U.S. Manhattan Project and commanded by Gen. Leslie Groves, the Alsos Mission received orders to proceed to occupied Europe, where their members were to gather intelligence about the German atomic bomb program.23 Thinking ahead to future needs, the U.S. chief of staff, George Marshall, who was the driving force behind the establishment of the Manhattan Engineer District, mandated the parameters of the mission:
While the major portion of the enemy’s secret scientific developments is being conducted in Germany, it is very likely that much valuable information can be obtained thereon by interviewing prominent Italian scientists in Italy. . . . The scope of inquiry should cover all principal scientific military developments and the investigations should be conducted in a manner to gain knowledge of enemy progress without disclosing our interest in any particular field. The personnel who undertake this work must be scientifically qualified in every respect. . . . It is proposed to send at the proper time to allied occupied Italy a small group of civilian scientists assisted by the necessary military personnel to conduct these investigations. Scientific personnel will be selected by Brig. Gen. Leslie R. Groves with the approval of Dr. [Vannevar] Bush and military personnel will be assigned by the Asst. Chief of Staff, G-2, from personnel available to him. . . . This group would form the nucleus for similar activity in other enemy and enemy-occupied countries when circumstances permit.24
Although Italy was the initial target for gathering information about the German atomic bomb program, the evolving nature of the war allowed the Alsos Mission to expand into other countries on their fact-finding mandate. In fact, the Alsos Mission operated in three phases, the first of which—Alsos I—was in Italy. In the summer of 1944 Alsos II began operating in France. By February 1945 the mission entered its final phase, when Alsos III set up shop in Germany.
During the final months of the war, while several Allied technical teams gathered intelligence about the German V-1 and V-2 programs, others pursued information about the atomic bomb angle. In April and early May 1945, the Alsos Mission hit the mother lode. The team succeeded in detaining ten atomic scientists. Included in the group that fell into the Alsos Mission net were three Nobel Prize winners—Otto Hahn, Werner Heisenberg, and Max von Laue. Following their capture, the ten atomic scientists found themselves cooling their heels in an internment camp in England for almost a year.25
As noted earlier, the British and American intelligence agencies shared information. This exchange occurred under the umbrella of the Field Information Agency, Technical, which was established by a directive issued by Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower on the advice of his assistant chief of staff for intelligence (G-2), Maj. Gen. Kenneth W. D. Strong. The purpose of the Field Information Agency, Technical, was “to fill the need for one clearing house to ‘plan, establish policies, control, direct and coordinate on an integrated basis’ all activities of the various technical units and projects operating in territory controlled by Eisenhower’s forces.” In addition to the Allied intelligence agencies, Alsos, Backfire, and Overcast fell under the umbrella of the Field Information Agency, Technical.26
The cooperation that resulted from information sharing by the Allied intelligence agencies first facilitated the British Project Backfire and then the American Project Overcast, but all did not run smoothly. Recognizing that the scientists and technicians who worked on the German atomic, V-1, and V-2 programs could not be exploited to their fullest potential while they remained in war-torn Europe and faced possible appropriation by the Soviets, the JCS commenced Overcast in June 1945 to solve this problem by relocating carefully chosen assets to the United States.27 Although begun in June, Overcast was not officially codified until 20 July. The JCS’s motivation was clear from the beginning—“to assist in shortening the Japanese war and to aid our postwar military research.” Overcast was never meant to be anything other than a military program. Furthermore, the military had jurisdiction over the wartime disposition of prisoners. It is clear, however, that President Harry S. Truman was not initially brought into the loop and informed about Overcast.28
Overcast immediately ran into problems because it overlapped with the British initiative Backfire. As indicated earlier, many of the captured scientists and technicians became part of a tug-of-war, as both the British and the Americans vied for the cream of the crop—to draft the best scientists and technicians for their team. Despite the military and technological need for these assets, the Americans, who feared domestic fallout if average citizens learned of the plan to bring a large number of Germans into the country, worked hard with their British counterparts in devising a plan for “sharing the scientific spoils of war.” The goal was to put Overcast into play quietly to avoid broadcasting information about the number of Germans relocating to the United States or about their wartime work. The sense of urgency that existed in June dissipated with the Japanese surrender, which made the rush to implement Overcast less imperative.29
Within weeks after Truman’s announcement on 1 September 1945 that Japan had acquiesced to the unconditional surrender terms, the first German scientists, engineers, and technicians landed in Boston. Armed with six-month contracts, Dr. Wernher von Braun and six other V-2 rocket engineers—four Hermann Göring Institute scientists and a Messerschitt Me-262 test pilot and his mechanic—were ready to work for a new employer: the U.S. Army. Housed at Fort Strong, which earned the name “Operation Overcast hotel,” the Germans were tasked with “undertak[ing] research, design, development, and other tasks associated with jet propulsion and guided missiles as may be assigned by competent U.S. authorities.”30 The question became where they would carry out their mandate.
By 29 September 1945 transportation of the Germans to their final destinations began. The first group traveled to Aberdeen Proving Ground, where they translated, cataloged, and evaluated captured German documents. On 6 October Wernher von Braun began his trip to Fort Bliss, Texas. Once there his work for army ordnance commenced immediately. Operation Overcast was moving forward—albeit slowly.
All did not, however, go smoothly. The German participants had signed six-month contracts. What would happen when the six months was up? Would enough replacements have arrived in the meantime to give the research bench depth and allow the return of the first draftees to Germany? Even before these first contracts expired, the planners had to admit that Overcast in its initial iteration was not enough. The demand for personnel—for specialists—by the military services far exceeded the numbers shipped in the first month of Overcast. In a 25 July communication the War Department instructed the Commanding General, United States Forces, European Theater, to “locate, screen, contract, and ship a maximum quota of 350 volunteer specialists; to afford protection for their families; and to obtain British concurrence to evaluate related equipment, documents, and records.”31 The War Department orders proved problematic because plans were already in place to supply that number of “volunteer specialists” to the U.S. Army Ordnance.
The need for ever-increasing volunteer specialists created unforeseen difficulties, only some of which could be resolved by extending the six-month contracts for another six-month or year period. The end of the war against Japan did not eliminate the need for these important experts. It did not take long for the Cold War to heat up and reinforce the importance of maintaining control of the draftees—who were needed to enhance American technological advancements. Keeping them out of the Soviets’ hands was crucial to achieving that goal. Furthermore, expansion of Overcast to meet the ever-increasing demands eventually required Truman’s approval.
The War Department received an unexpected ally in former vice president Henry Wallace, who was the secretary of commerce. Tasked with overseeing the acquisition of reparations from Germany in the form of scientific and technical information, Wallace was in a unique position to help the War Department initiative. Also involved was the Joint Intelligence Objectives Agency, or JIOA, which the JCS created in September 1945. The JIOA assumed control of the Nazi scientist program. If the Overcast specialists were to receive contract extensions and remain in the United States for a longer period, the Department of State would have to factor into the mix. Consequently, the State Department added a new member to the JIOA—Samuel Klaus—who was responsible for approving visas for the German scientists.
Klaus immediately clashed with his colleagues at the JIOA. He was not on board with Overcast or its expansion to admit an ever-increasing number of volunteer specialists into the United States. In fact, Klaus demonstrated early on that he would pose an impediment to the program when he suggested that the Germans in question were not “brilliant scientists” who had been caught up in an inescapable situation. Staunchly anti-Nazi, Klaus had a different perspective when it came to all Germans, especially the German scientists. He accused them of being “amoral opportunists of mediocre talent” and promised that he would do all is his power to limit the number of visas issued to German scientists to “less than a dozen.” Klaus would make it difficult to ignore the scientists’ pasts, their memberships in the Nazi Party and the SS, which were visa disqualifiers.32 The JIOA faced a conundrum. Despite their dubious wartime backgrounds, the JIOA viewed the identified draftees as crucial to the future Cold War fight.
Wallace would help the JIOA do an end run around Klaus and the State Department. Wallace became involved because his office—the Department of Commerce—also had a representative on the JIOA: John C. Green. A supporter of the German scientist program, Green—in the face of Klaus’s opposition—appealed to Wallace for help. Wallace, at first glance, was an unusual choice. During the war he had frequently vocalized his opinion of Hitler as the devil incarnate. Although, like Klaus, he was a staunch anti-Nazi, Wallace was a firm believer in the importance of science to the economic growth and prosperity of the United States. Unlike Klaus, he put the U.S. future before his hatred of all things Nazi. Wallace agreed to write a letter of support for Overcast, which he sent to Truman on 4 December 1945. In his letter Wallace directly linked the German scientist program to U.S. economic prosperity. Because of his past public position regarding Hitler and the Germans, Wallace’s letter carried much weight and persuaded Truman to get on board as well.33
Even before the president agreed to support the initiative, the JIOA moved forward with expansion. By 1946 the number of required “former enemy specialists” greatly exceeded initial expectations and reached a thousand. By March 1946 Overcast had a new name—Paperclip—and a new supporter. Wallace’s letter had the desired effect, and Truman acknowledged the benefits of the program. The idea of employing Germans in the American Cold War fight was an appealing one. Truman had one reservation, however. He was concerned about potential backlash if the American public got wind of Project Paperclip; therefore, his support came with caveats. Paperclip had to be a covert program. The public had to be blissfully unaware of the program in general and, more specifically, of the numbers of Germans involved. Furthermore, Truman put restrictions on the types of Germans who could participate in the program, when he officially authorized the JIOA plan in September 1946. Hard-core Nazis were not eligible to participate. Only “nominal” or “opportunistic” Nazis could take part in Paperclip.34 Truman’s restriction could potentially disqualify a number of key German personnel on the JIOA’s A-list—those already in the country or those designated for transfer to the United States in the near future.
The first test would come six months after Truman approved Paperclip, when the director of JIOA, Bosquet Wev, submitted the first batch of scientists’ dossiers to the Department of State and the Department of Justice for approval. These dossiers included carefully selected information and omitted potentially damaging data that could result in rejection of the applications. Missing from the dossiers was “raw intelligence reports on the German specialists’ activities.” Included instead were security reports issued by the Office of the Military Government of the United States (OMGUS), which was the occupation government’s administration in postwar Germany. The OMGUS based the reports about the scientists on information provided by the U.S. Army’s Counter Intelligence Corps. Because it knew that the phrase “ardent Nazi” was a disqualifier, the OMGUS generally inserted less inflammatory phrases instead when describing the scientists.35
Using less inflammatory terminology did not, necessarily, ensure approval of the dossiers by either State or Justice. For Wev and the JIOA, roadblocks would be put in place by State through Samuel Klaus, a known opponent of Project Paperclip. Klaus found all former Nazis suspect. Degree of commitment to the party did not factor into his world view when he assessed the dossiers. An additional problem in the mix was the nature of the OMGUS reports included in the first batch. Having not yet been informed of the desirability of utilizing the Germans to further an American agenda, the OMGUS was more honest in the initial reports than they were in later ones. That honesty caused problems for the JIOA. In assessing those brought to the United States as part of Project Overcast, the OMGUS categorized them as “ardent Nazis.” Nor was the OMGUS assessment of the “specialists on the Paperclip recruiting list” any better.36
The climate was ripe for a confrontation between Wev and Klaus. The reality was that—no matter what the OMGUS reports said—over 50 percent of those recruited by Wev had been members of the Nazi Party or veterans of the SS. Not willing to play ball, Klaus rejected the recruits—drafted members of Paperclip. He ruled them ineligible under the criteria established by Truman. Furious at being thwarted, Wev had to rethink the process. Obtaining visas for members of the Paperclip team was crucial. Anxious to move forward, Wev suggested that the OMGUS dossiers be altered to make them more acceptable to Klaus—and by extension to the Department of State.
By late 1946 the military held approximately 230 Paperclip scientists in custody. The JIOA informed the State Department to expect visa applications for the scientists and their families and indicated that the OMGUS intelligence reports would include the “best information available.” Ever suspicious, Samuel Klaus concluded that military intelligence officers would not include damaging information in these reports and that “the pipeline to bring ardent Nazis and their families into the United States was wide open.” There was justification for Klaus’s concerns. The proof was in the pudding, so to speak. Over 750 German volunteer specialists—scientists, technicians, and engineers—entered the United States during the decade after the war under a protected umbrella provided by Overcast, Paperclip, and other similar programs. Approximately 80 percent were former members of the Nazi Party—and in many cases of the SS as well. The Cold War continued to provide the driving force behind programs such as Paperclip. By the time Paperclip had served out its usefulness, approximately 1,600 German scientists had entered the United States, along with their families.37 Most successfully applied for U.S. citizenship. For a time they were able to work and live quiet lives in the United States. At the end of the day, however, that changed for many of them.
When news got out about the background of members of the Overcast and Paperclip teams, Americans became more aware of—perhaps dubious—policies implemented by the U.S. government in the wake of World War II. Justified as necessary because of the Cold War, which began on the heels of World War II, Overcast and Paperclip gave the United States the edge it needed against the Soviet Union, but it did so with the help of Germans with checkered pasts, some of whom would later be investigated by the Office of Special Investigations. In some cases they faced trial, denaturalization, and deportation. Scientists and technicians such as Arthur Rudolph, Wernher von Braun, Bernhard Tessmann, and Kurt Blome, who were members of the Overcast or Paperclip teams, warrant further investigation. The next couple of chapters endeavor to answer some of the questions raised by this discussion of Backfire, Overcast, and Paperclip.
Before delving into the cases of Paperclip individuals, however, the following question deserves attention. Why did the scientists and technicians cooperate with Backfire, Overcast, and Paperclip? For some these projects provided them with the opportunity to continue the work that excited them. Von Braun and Rudolph, for example, were driven to build rockets. Initially, they built rockets for German ordnance, but they wanted to build and test even bigger and more powerful rockets. After working for U.S. Army Ordnance, both men found employment with NASA, and Rudolph saw his dream of putting a rocket on the moon come to fruition. For others participating in Paperclip allowed them to escape their past. By signing up and being drafted into service, many could and did avoid prosecution for alleged war crimes—at least for decades. Some Germans sought a better life for themselves and their families than they believed they would experience under Allied or Soviet occupation. Working for the U.S. military and other government divisions frequently led to naturalization and opened doors to job opportunities in the private sector. Furthermore, employment by the Americans or the British was possibly more attractive than employment in the Soviet system. At the end of the day, the German scientists, engineers, and technicians who participated in Backfire, Overcast, and Paperclip were perhaps motivated by a combination of factors—not the least of which was the chance for a new life.
At the end of the war in Europe, both the British and the Americans wanted to take advantage of German advances in weapons development—especially in cutting-edge, high-tech areas like rocketry, missiles, and jet engines. They also wanted to deny their Soviet Allies access to the same information. The result was a quick, and often haphazard, scramble as the Western Allies moved to transfer key enemy personnel out of Soviet reach. Thus began a period of talent scouting and ownership-rights negotiation—similar to the draft process in professional athletics. While the scientists and technicians did not profit as spectacularly as a top-flight quarterback or point guard as a rule, Paperclip participants secured something no less valuable to them: a more secure future for themselves and their families than they were likely to have if they had not “volunteered” to serve their conquerors and new masters.
The officers and civilians captured in April 1945 had at best limited control over their own futures. The lucky ones participated in Operation Backfire or Operations Overcast and Paperclip and avoided fates that awaited some of their peers, including the possibility of being tried for war crimes. The really lucky ones found gainful employment in Britain or the United States in the postwar era because they had something important, indeed unique, to offer—new knowledge and fresh skills. As a result, Britain’s Operation Backfire, for example, had two important outcomes. Like a good sports’ trade, both parties profited. The British successfully gained an important theoretical and technical understanding of the German V-2 rocket program. German personnel who participated in Operation Backfire also received long-term benefits, especially if they succeeded in gaining employment in key British and American industries after their direct usefulness to the Allied governments had ended. They escaped the material and emotional effects of living in a shattered society. Americans and Germans alike derived similar benefits from Backfire and U.S. operations, Overcast and Paperclip. And for some participants, the American package had a bonus—no particularly careful screening for possible war crimes. This oversight was sufficiently obvious that not a few beneficiaries of the American programs were eventually investigated by the Office of Special Investigations of the U.S. Department of Justice. That, however, occurred in the future—many years in the future.