“I think one of them is going to be in Frankfurt and the other will probably be in Munich. You see, all the stuff from the Merkers mine is in the vaults of the Reichsbank at Frankfurt and it ought to be moved to a place where it can be permanently stored.”
The “stuff” he referred to was the enormous collection of paintings and sculpture—comprising the principal treasures of the Berlin museums—which George himself had brought out of the Merkers mine in Thuringia. He had carried out the operation virtually singlehanded and in the face of extraordinary difficulties just before the end of hostilities.
“As for Munich,” he continued, “repositories are springing up like mushrooms all through Bavaria. Most of it is loot and we’re going to have to set up some kind of depot where we can put the things until they can be returned to the countries from which the Nazis stole them.”
“What are your plans?” I asked.
“Well, if the trucks show up,” he said, “I want to get started for Siegen this afternoon. That’s in Westphalia. It’s another mine—copper, not salt—and it’s full of things from the Rhineland museums. I’ve got to take them up to Marburg. We have two good depots there.”
We lunched with George and then returned to Bad Homburg. There wasn’t anything for us to do but wait around until we heard from Captain La Farge. To fill in the time we took our German books and spent the afternoon studying in the Kurpark.
The telephone was ringing in the entrance lobby as we walked in at five. It was Captain La Farge. He had just returned and wanted to see us at once. I said I didn’t know whether we could get transportation. He chuckled and said, “Tell them a general wants to see you.” Craig and I dashed over to the Transportation Office and tried it out. It worked. So, for the second time that day, we found ourselves on the road to Wiesbaden.
Captain La Farge was waiting for us in the office where we had seen George that morning. He was a tall, slender man in his early forties. With a high-domed head and a long, rather narrow face, he was the classic New Englander. His eyes were hazel and, at that first meeting, very weary. But he had one of the most ingratiating smiles and one of the most pleasant voices I had ever heard. He reminded me of an early Copley portrait.
Without much preamble he launched into a detailed explanation of the plans he had for us.
“I want you to take over the Frankfurt job,” he said to me, “and I am sending you down to Munich, Smyth. As George probably told you, we’ve got to set up two big depots. The one in Frankfurt will be mainly for German-owned art which is now coming in from repositories all over this part of Germany. The one in Munich will be chiefly for loot, though there will be German-owned things down in Bavaria too. Both jobs are equally interesting, equally important and, above all, equally urgent.”