BBC Interviews a Secret Intelligence Service Man — Captain Sebastian Bash von Altenberg-Lyle
The film starts.
A man in his late 50s, sharply suited, is seated in a comfortable armchair. He appears to the left of the screen. His medal ribbons are visibly pinned to his lapel. Some of the pins glitter under the studio lights. Behind him, a British flag stands on a post.
The film now shows a Title label in yellow letters. The muted sounds of equipment are heard. Behind the labels, the man sitting in the chair clears his throat, leans forward, and with his right hand takes a glass of water from a coffee table in front of him, takes a small sip, and returns the glass to the table.
Program: For Country and King.
Broadcast Subject: Captain Sebastian Bash von Altenberg-Lyle, (Retired).
Journalist: Peter Fairbridge.
Broadcast No: 00075.
Broadcast Date: October 24, 1972.
Broadcast Time: 20:00 hours GMT.
BBC, Studio 6.
After 30 seconds, the label vanishes. A second man said in very clear English.
Man: "Rose, love, does he need to make up? Is the light too bright on him? I do not want his face to look flat."
A young woman enters the frame, wearing a pink mockneck sweater and bright-colored palazzo pants. She is carrying a makeup kit.
Woman: He is fine, Peter.
Peter: Thank you, love.
Turning to the gentleman, Peter adds
Peter: Thank you, Captain.
In the background, a voice is heard.
Background-Man: We are going live in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Peter: "Good evening. Tonight, For Country and King breaks a silence that has lasted for more than a quarter of a century."
"For the first time in the history of British broadcasting, a former officer of the Secret Intelligence Service has been granted clearance to step out of the shadows. He is a man whose identity was, until this very hour, a matter of national security."
"It is our unprecedented privilege to introduce Captain Sebastian Bash von Altenberg-Lyle, DSO, MC, OBE. For over thirty years, his name has been absent from the history books, yet he served His Majesty within the Secret Intelligence Service during the most perilous years of the war."
"A highly decorated officer, Captain von Altenberg-Lyle was awarded the Distinguished Service Order and the Military Cross for gallantry that—quite literally—helped change the course of the Allied effort. Sebastian, thank you for joining us in Studio 6."
Sebastian: "Pleasure."
Peter: Sebastian, would you tell our viewers your full name and date of birth?
Sebastian: My name is Sebastian Bash von-Altenberg-Lyle, and I was born on May 10, 1915, in the Sudetenland, Czechoslovakia.
Peter: "Do you have any brothers and sisters?"
Sebastian: "I had a younger brother, Frederic. He liked fast cars, and we lost him in 1935 to an accident. My parents were devastated."
Peter: I am sorry to hear that.
Sebastian nodded.
Peter: Who were your parents?
Sebastian: "My mother was German, Magdalena 'Magda' Altenberg, and my father, Arthur von Altenberg-Lyle, was of Anglo-German background."
Peter: Do you know how your parents met?
Sebastian: "They met in Vienna in 1910 at a Picquenic, and later again at a dance. My mother called it 'The Waltz of Her Life.' She used to tell the story at social tea parties; all the ladies would clap with enthusiasm and giggle, watching my father blush. They courted for a short time and married. I have never seen anyone as calm as they were in love."
Peter: What kind of business was your father involved in?
Sebastian: "My father was an industrialist. The family owned sugar beet plantations and sugar refineries. He was also in the Land and Forestry business. He owned a brewery and distillery, although it was not his main source of income. It was more like a hobby, but he was proud of his beer and spirits. At family gatherings, visitors were offered his beer and spirits. He would ask questions about taste and bouquet. There was no escaping. By the end, one might be rather the worse for drink."
Peter and Sebastian laugh.
Peter: "I would imagine. Was your father a military man?"
Sebastian: "My father was born in 1885, and in the Sudetenland at that time, being a member of the aristocracy, he needed to be. No way out of the army in the Austro-Hungarian Empire in those days. So, he attended the Technische Militärakademie, the Military Academy. Over the years, he reached the rank of Major, and during the First Great War, he served in the k.u.k Kriegsministerium, Imperial Ministry of War in Vienna, in logistics."
Peter: "Your dossier states that you studied at Prague University from 1933 to 1936. We will return to this in a moment. Before that period of your life, what kind of education did you receive?"
Sebastian: "I was home-schooled by my mother during the first years of my life. She was well-versed in the sciences, but she had made much effort teaching me poetry, literature, arts, and oriental cultures, including cultures from India and Persia."
"My mother insisted on a bilingual household; German and English. My education also included French and Russian language tutors."
Peter: "Did you practice any sports in your youth?"
Sebastian: "Fencing—It has been my birthright passion."
Peter: "Yes, it says here that you were very accomplished in the art of fencing. How did you learn how to fence?"
Sebastian: "My father taught me all he knew, including his own variation of the Prague Style. I do not remember him losing a contest."
Peter: "Did fencing help you later in your military intelligence career?"
Sebastian: "Indeed. The style is more than German precision and French elegance. It is about deception, tactical depth, and parrying everything."
Peter: "I would say the Prague Style of combat in fencing is a natural sport for someone in the intelligence business."
Sebastian: [a small nod] "Yes."
Peter: "How has your education helped you in your Military Intelligence career?"
Sebastian: “My mother had many talents. Among them, she was a skilled painter. Her pastels and watercolors are family treasures. I would spend hours in her studio, looking at her paintings and observing how she mixed colors, the way she moved her hands. One day, she asked if I wanted her to teach me. I took her up on the offer. Before long, I had a stand next to hers.”
Peter: “A very special time between the two of you.”
Sebastian: “It was. After I began to develop skills, I started copying her paintings. She told me, in her honeyed voice, that it was flattering—but that I needed to develop my own style.”
Peter: “I’m sure that didn’t stop you.”
Peter spoke with a gentle smile.
Sebastian: “It did not. My father did not concern himself with these matters—Magda was in charge of Bash’s education. That was his position, which he later reconsidered after I began copying just about anything that landed on my table: the family coat of arms, his signature, my mother’s signature. For me, it was a game. One day, my parents were browsing over my worktable and discovered an incomplete banknote. They asked me to stop that perversion immediately.”
Peter: “These skills are what the service was initially interested in, later in life. We will revisit this part a little later. Before we do…”
Peter glances at his notes.
“Let us revisit your university years. It says here that you attended the German University in Prague from 1933 to 1936, for cultivation — a form of character-building. This is what your parents wanted for you. Why was that?”
Sebastian lets an almost imperceptible chuckle escape and continues, a smile on his face.
Sebastian: “I wanted to become a painter — an artiste peintre — and spend my days in my mother’s studio. She was quite content with that arrangement. My father, after retiring from his military post at the Imperial Ministry of War in Vienna, divided his time between his fencing coaching in Prague and the sugar refinery. He wanted me to attend university, to be prepared for civil duties. He pointed out — on numerous occasions — that I could, of course, join the fencing club.”
Peter: “And that you did. It says here — and I quote — ‘Mr. von Altenberg-Lyle, Jr. became a distinguished member of the university fencing club. Wherever he competed, scores of young women admirers followed him. Having the fencing program signed by him — “With love, Sebastian von Altenberg-Lyle” — was worth the price of admission.’ End quote.”
“You were something of a sensation. A bit of a star.”
“What did your parents have to say about that?”
Sebastian: “They did not like it. My mother thought it improper, although I could see her from the piste — she behaved no differently from the young ladies your note mentions. My father had a stronger opinion. Fencing is a martial art, he said, and should not be treated as a spectacle.”
Peter: “It was a good life for you.”
Sebastian: “It was indeed.”
Peter: “You finished your studies in 1936. Two years later, in 1938, Europe — and the world — turned upside down for the Altenbergs. Germany annexed the Sudetenland.”
Peter pauses briefly, then continues.
“What did your family do?”
Sebastian: "The family fled to England. It did not feel like an exit, but more like a family trip, because the family had strong connections and we owned a few properties in the countryside. We left the Sudetenland with the feeling that we could return in a not too distant future."
Peter: "But you did not, and Europe kept sliding into an all-out war. What happened then?"
Sebastian: "In 1940, as the Battle of Britain reached its feverish point, I decided to join the RAF."
Peter: "It made sense for someone like you, a fencer, to join the military as a pilot, which was viewed at the time with a degree of romanticism. Was your decision supported by your family?"
Sebastian: "My mother was worried — I was their only son, and our pilots were dying daily, that was no secret. My father had a different view, supportive. He told me in a way I would understand — Parry, counter-attack, and riposte, follow the training."
Peter: "Good moral advice, no doubt. So, enlisted. Which base were you stationed in?"
Sebastian: " RAF Uxbridge, in London."
Peter: "That was one of the RAF’s primary reception and administrative centres, where new personnel were processed and introduced to a strict military regime. It probably shocked you and grounded you, letting you know — this is serious business."
Sebastian nods as Peter speaks. Peter continues.
Peter: "How often did you manage to visit home? Were you allowed to leave the base?"
Sebastian: "Not very often. Short Passes, for the weekend, were not readily given."
Peter: "But you did visit home."
Peter smiles and continues.
"Tell us about that."
Sebastian: "After many weeks at the base, I was granted a forty-eight-hour Short-Pass. On the train home, I had time to examine it, and I thought it was grotesquely simple — I can easily reproduce this document, watermark included.; which I did."
Peter chuckles.
Peter: "We'll keep that among us. Were you able to use these... complementary passes?"
Sebastian: "I was successful only once."
Peter: "Were you ever caught?"
Sebastian: "Yes. A suspicious Sergeant Major noticed the paper was 'officer quality' rather than the cheap, pulpy stock used for enlisted men’s short-leave passes. I was arrested at the spot."
Peter: "Frightening. They sent you to the detention center at the base, I suppose."
Sebastian: "It was frightening. I genuinely felt bad, and I thought of my father—Altenberg honor faltered."
Peter: "What happened then?"
Sebastian: "Forty-eight hours after my imprisonment, early in the morning, I was woken by a Colonel entering my cell, flanked by an MP officer. The Colonel asked the MP to exit the cell and clear the corridor. I will not reveal his name. He told me that my trick had landed me in hot water and that falsifying His Majesty's document was a serious crime. He told me that I had two choices: face court-martial or come and work for him at His Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service. I accepted to work for him."
Peter: "What follows after this?"
Sebastian: "I was discharged from prison and released to two plainclothes servicemen. I changed into my civilian clothes, and we went to the train station and departed for the Scottish Highlands."
Peter: "In broad terms, can you explain to the viewers how a Secret Intelligence Service Agent is trained?"
Sebastian looks at Peter for a brief moment and speaks.
Sebastian: "The foundation of an agent is built on endurance. Physical training is very intense. To reach that level, we went through grueling paramilitary exercises. We learned the Black Arts to be able to eliminate the enemy silently using different weapons, for example, using my hands, a pen, or anything in the environment."
Peter: "Did you ever participate in hand-to-hand combat?"
Sebastian: "Yes."
Silence in the studio. Peter and Sebastian appear frozen in time. Peter crosses his arms for a moment, then releases his right hand when he speaks.
Peter: "Did anything stick with you over the years?"
Sebastian: "Yes... the smell. It is not that they had a bad smell or anything, but the soap they used... a very distinct army-issued soap."
After a small pause, Peter looks at the camera and speaks directly into the lens.
Peter: "We are going to take a break now. When we return, we'll continue our conversation with Captain Sebastian von Altenberg-Lyle about his experience during the Second Great War, where he served in His Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service."
Background-man: "Cut!"
Peter turns to Sebastian and speaks.
Peter: "Sebastian, are you OK to continue? We can finish now if you would like, and cut into a documentary. We plan for eventualities."
Sebastian: "Thanks for asking. A little breather is appreciated. I can continue."
Peter: "Thank you. Sebastian."
Peter looks at someone in the background and speaks.
Peter: "We go in three."
The camera continues recording for nearly three minutes.
Background-Man: Take your positions, we go live in 10, ..., 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
The camera focuses on Peter sitting in an armchair. The camera angle widens, and Captain Sebastian von Altenberg-Lyle enters the frame slowly as Peter speaks.
Peter: "Welcome back to For Country and King. Before the break, we have been talking with Captain Sebastian von Altenberg-Lyle about his experience during the Second Great War, where he served in His Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service."
Peter turns to Sebastian.
Peter: "Sebastian, did you ever encounter a situation in the field that made you feel out of place?"
Sebastian: "During Operation Chalk, in early March 1944, my team was dropped in the area of Brittany. Our mission was to monitor U-boats, naval movements, and Atlantic defenses. I was the mission chief. My alias was Monsieur Dupont. The radio operator was Madame Leblanc."
"Leblanc carried a Welrod. I had a revolver and a Sten."
"On the second night, it was a clear sky with a shining moon. I remember it was very cold. As we were walking along the coast, we came across a German patrol. They were walking about ten or fifteen yards away from us in the opposite direction. One of them looked in our direction and waved to say hello. We waved back."
Sebastian pauses and touches his chin lightly.
"I think he saw my Sten — just for a fraction of a second. There was a slight move in his head. Perhaps he did not realize what he had just seen. Whatever it was, it felt quite unreal — and entirely normal."
"We kept walking, and Leblanc said in a low voice—What was that? By the time I turned to look back, they were gone. Imagine that."
Peter: What happened next?
Sebastian: Shortly after, I received a message on the wireless with the order to wait for a replacement. Madame Leblanc was to continue Operation Chalk with the new leader."
"Monsieur Maurice, my replacement, arrived the next morning. He delivered the new mission package. It contained a clean German passport, and I would need to put the details in, my name and so on. The package contained a coded message which I could only decode using my cypher system."
Peter: "Can you explain the cypher? If I were Agent Markus, could I have read your orders?"
Sebastian: "Impossible. We used One-Time Pads. London had a silk or paper booklet, and I had its twin. The keys were random and used only once. Unless Markus stole my specific pad, he’d be looking at gibberish. Once a message was clear, I tore out the page and watched it turn to ash."
Peter: "What did the message say?"
Sebastian: "My order was to go to Istanbul, natural cover."
Peter: "Natural cover meant you don’t invent very much. You use your own name, your own past. You fit where you arrive. Right?"
Sebastian: "Precisely."
Peter: "You survive to tell the tale, but wouldn't you be concerned that you could be identified? Your family left the Sudetenland after Germany annexed the territory."
Sebastian: "It was a risk the Service accepted. Given my family background, it was thought manageable. The Altenbergs are well-known in the area. The farm continues in the family to this day."
Peter: "So, you went as an aristocrat, a high-class man. What happened then?"
Sebastian: "Getting to Istanbul was only possible at great risk, using discreet Swiss rail routes. The Balkan leg was particularly dangerous because of partisan activity. I was fortunate to have support in Zurich. The service had a man there who had been planning the next leg of my trip. "
Peter: "So, you managed to arrive in Istanbul, at great peril. What happened next?"
Sebastian: "I arrived in Istanbul as Sebastian Bash von Altenberg-Lyle, a young bachelor aristocrat, traveling the world. The service had provided me with enough funds to secure lodgings at The Park Hotel. The hotel was located right next to the diplomatic district."
Peter: "What was the mission?"
Sebastian: "The mission was to infiltrate the German Consulate in Istanbul."
Peter: "Did you have a specific objective, or was it a broad exploratory mission?"
Sebastian: "The service had information that the German high command was preparing to evacuate materials considered too important to be surrendered or captured. We did not know what it was, but the probabilities that an important shipment was going to transit through Istanbul were very high."
Peter: "What was your plan—to break into the consulate?"
Sebastian: "That would have been reckless, Peter. Besides, I did not yet know what I was looking for. Furthermore, the German Consulate was under constant observation by the Allies, the Soviets, and Turkish intelligence. The most elegant solution was for an aristocrat to simply meet the German Consul, Dr. Ernst von Hohenfels."
"The service secured my membership at the Cercle d'Orient, an exclusive military club frequented by diplomats and high society. Since Dr. von Hohenfels was a regular, I intended to be one, too. I also joined the Fenerbahçe Sports Club, where the doctor practiced fencing. He was a master of the Mensur style—a technique derived from Prague and banned in Germany. We had much in common. All I had to do was go to the club and practice the art alongside the other gentlemen."
Peter: "And eventually both of you would meet."
Sebastian: "Exactly."
Peter: "And in time become brothers-in-arms."
Sebastian raises his right hand as though dotting Peter's sentence.
Peter: "How did you both meet?"
Sebastian: "I was having dinner at the restaurant at the Cercle d’Orient. Dr. von Hohenfels was having dinner a few tables away. A patron approached me and said in German,"
Entschuldigen Sie, sind Sie Sebastian Bash von Altenberg-Lyle, der Fechter vom Fechtclub der Universität Prag?
"Are you Sebastian, the fencer from the fencing club of the University of Prague?
Along those lines. I said yes with a smile."
Sebastian raises both hands in open expression and continues.
"Wow, I have been spotted! Then he asked me if I would be so kind as to sign a magazine for his sister, who was an ardent admirer. I did. Moments later, Dr. von Hohenfels approached my table and mentioned that he was not aware that a famous fencer was a patron of the club. I asked him—adopting my father's regal demeanor when he was uncomfortably disturbed, almost imperceptible, but there—I do not have the pleasure of having met you before?"
Ich bitte um Entschuldigung, mein Name ist Dr. Ernst von Hohenfels, und ich bin der deutsche Konsul in Istanbul.
"I stood up and, with a polite, gentle bow, introduced myself, and invited him to my table for a Cognac."
Peter: "The fan was a godsend!"
Sebastian: "He was from the service."
Peter: "What was the first meeting like?"
Sebastian: “We spoke about many things—mostly fencing, with the occasional question about my travels around the world. Everything could be verified. We spoke very little about politics.”
Peter: “It seems fencing became common ground.”
Sebastian: “Indeed. We agreed to rendezvous the next day and cross the Bosphorus to visit the Fenerbahçe Sports Club. He was eager to measure his Mensur style against my sabre.”
Peter: “Was he a good fencer?”
Sebastian: “He was an artist. A great fighter. The first time we crossed sabres, he was the clear winner. He did not gloat—he understood that I had not given anything away. After I warmed up, the balance shifted. He would take one match, I would take the next. We exchanged tips, observations…”
Peter: “Did any red flags arise based on your finishing school training—warnings that perhaps you were becoming too friendly?”
Sebastian: "That was the job."
Peter: "When did you realize you had his unwavering trust?"
Sebastian: "We used to visit the Fenerbahçe Sports Club three times per week. Often, we returned to the Park Hotel for five o’clock tea and the legendary tango dancers. On one occasion, he mentioned that a close friend was having difficulties leaving Germany and that he was concerned about his welfare. I told him that I had connections in high places and could arrange something for this fellow and his wife to leave Germany. All I needed was their details. He provided it."
"Twenty-four hours later, I produced an envelope from the chancellery. He looked at me with an air of surprise and inquisition. He opened it, and he looked stunned. After spending a few minutes looking at it, he pulled out a small magnifying glass from his pocket and let a gasp out. Authentic! He said nothing else. He asked if I needed retribution, and I gestured with my hand, not at all."
Peter: “Were they forged documents?”
Sebastian: “Yes, they were. I even replicated an imperfection—very difficult to detect, but unavoidable for a trained bureaucrat—produced by the typewriter used in the chancellery to issue these delicate documents.”
Peter: “At this point in your relationship, did you feel you had passed a watershed?”
Sebastian: “My thoughts were these: I had provided a service to him with discretion. What did he see? Reliability. It was highly probable that Dr. von Hohenfels would now approach me with a task worthy of what he thought of me.”
Peter: “Something more than trust. Did it come?”
Sebastian: “Forty-eight hours later, on his private yacht en route to the Fenerbahçe Sports Club, he latched onto my right arm and walked me to the stern. There, he told me that some sounds are better left behind—I understood what he meant: assume the yacht is bugged. Then he said that four men were arriving from Spain, escorting an important cargo.”
“What can I do for you? He told me he had been looking for a loyal German in Istanbul—someone with my characteristics. He said he knew I was a monarchist, a member of the old guard. I asked if he knew what the mission was called, but he did not know the details—only that they needed a driver who could also safeguard the documentation for safe passage.”
Sebastian paused, took a small sip of water, and continued.
“I told him I could help with the documentation—would that be enough? ‘It won’t,’ he said. ‘The situation is very fluid. You would need to accompany them. It will be dangerous, but it is for the future of Germany—not this Germany.’”
“I told him I was not saying no, but that I was not yet sure. I suggested we spend the afternoon yachting rather than probing one another’s weaknesses, and that the next morning, at breakfast, he could join me on the terrace and we would continue the conversation. He agreed readily, and we spent the afternoon sipping champagne and speaking of our university days—his in Berlin, mine in Prague.”
Peter: “Did he come?”
Sebastian: “He did.”
Peter: “What was your answer?”
Sebastian: “I told him I would help and travel with the couriers, on one condition: I was to receive no recognition. However, I made a small, embarrassing request and asked for his discretion—my coffers were running low, and I required a modest fee.”
Peter: “Did he accept your terms?”
Sebastian: “Gladly. He added that he would take care of my accounts at both clubs and the hotel, along with a handsome stipend. We did not discuss the amount—it would not have been a gentlemanly thing to do.”
Peter: "When did you finally meet the couriers?"
Sebastian: "I believe the German officers were in Istanbul when Doctor von Hohenfels approached me with his request. After becoming close to the German Consulate, I came out of anonymity, and other agents were likely observing me. The service could not help me."
Sebastian's lips seem dehydrated. His tongue sticks to the ceiling of his mouth. He leans forward, takes the glass of water, and has another small sip of water, returning the glass to the coffee table. The studio is in deep silence. The dull humming of the incandescent lights invades the space.
Sebastian resumes with a clear voice.
"The officers had probably witnessed the recruitment itself — and our breakfast on the Park Hotel terrace. I finally met them on the deck of the doctor's yacht. They were introduced to me as : Feldwebel Kurt Wagner, Oberfeldwebel Hans Fischer, Oberleutnant Wilhelm von Rundstedt, and Hauptmann Jan Schmitt, their commanding officer."
Sebastian makes a pause, and resumes.
"Captain Schmitt was the one who spoke while the other officers looked at me. The silence was heavy, uncomfortable. He asked me the reason a man of my class had not joined the army, that not joining the army could be seen as an act of treason to the fatherland."
Peter: "Captain Schmitt put you in the spot. What did you tell him?"
Sebastian: "I told him that precisely, because of my class association, and my age, I was not interested in a glorious military death, that I was content traveling the world, spending my family fortune in venal activities. Sergeant Wagner cut in to tell Captain Schmitt that I was of no use to them, that I would do better feeding the creatures of the bottom of the Bosphorus."
Sebastian makes a pause, interlaces his fingers, and rubs the palms of his hands, and continues.
"Gentlemen,” I said, “I am still not interested in your mission. I am here because Dr. von Hohenfels asked for my assistance. I was already rehearsing in my mind a possible hand-to-hand combat scenario. The odds were regretfully against me. The doctor abruptly cut in to assert my statement and moved to my right side, close to my right shoulder."
Peter moves involuntarily to the edge of this armchair.
Peter: "How could you de-escalate a situation like this?"
Sebastian: "Remaining calm is the strongest weapon, although the situation is very dynamic and every second is different. Captain Schmitt told me that my story checked out, although he was still not convinced I was an Allied agent. He extended a piece of paper with a list of documents, then he asked me how fast I could produce them. I told him that with the right materials, I needed at least twenty-four hours. His response was that I had twelve hours.
Peter: "Captain Schmitt provided you with a small window to deliver the documents."
Sebastian: "He did, they were ready in time. All I needed was already on the yacht: paper, ink, and reference documents. In addition to medical equipment, the manifest included surgery instruments, chloroform, ether, and miscellaneous items."
Peter: "Surgery instruments, chloroform, and ether. This is strategic for a field hospital. Could these items stand up to scrutiny at checkpoints?"
Sebastian: "Yes. Checkpoints were tense, but the officers were professionals. Along the way, they 'coached' me on how to behave through checkpoints, things to say, and do. They made me practice. Very similar training to the one I received in finishing schools. The documents Captain Schmitt requested were excellent. Everything was in apparent order."
Peter: "You have mentioned you felt under surveillance. Were you able to warn the service that the operation was afoot?"
Sebastian: "Not possible. After Captain Schmitt had inspected the documents, the yacht moored in a discreet dock in the Beykoz district. He told me that I was coming with them. 'Now?' — I asked, visibly surprised. 'Welcome to the team' was his answer, and he left me to absorb my new reality."
Sebastian points at himself and speaks.
"I would have done the same and not let this fellow out of sight. My thinking was that by observing Doctor von Hohenfels' behaviors, the service would deduce I was alive, and that the operation was afoot."
Peter: "What did the Consul say?"
Sebastian: "Doctor von Hohenfels shook my hand firmly and wished me good luck. Said no more and returned to the depths of the yacht. Never saw him again."
Peter: "What happened after the yacht moored?"
Sebastian: "A large Mercedes was waiting for us. We traveled along the coast through country roads and ended up at a farm with a large hangar. Inside, there were three American Jeeps. Two of these vehicles were hauling a small two-wheeled trailer."
Peter: "Traveling in a caravan is a dead giveaway for Allies and Turkish Police. Would documents be enough?"
Sebastian: "At the farm, Captain Schmitt gave Lt. von Dundstedt his documents, and he immediately departed. Then he ordered me to change into work clothes. They were already dirty, with someone else's odor."
Peter: "What was going through your mind?"
Sebastian: "I had the choice to wait for an opportunity, and either terminate the operation, or 'capture' the team and hand them over to the Allies, or see the mission to the end to uncover a larger network."
Peter: "Did you know where you were going?"
Sebastian: "No. Captain Schmitt had planned the operation to achieve small goals at a time. All I knew was that we were going to Van City."
Peter: "But that is sixteen-hundred kilometer away!"
Sebastian: "Exactly. For that reason, Lt. von Dundstedt had started his mission earlier. He was carrying extra fuel. We would abandon that vehicle midway to Van City, use it for spare parts, or use it as a replacement. The Jeeps were very reliable."
Peter: "Did you have any idea about what was being transported?"
Sebastian: "No. I only knew that we were transporting lead coffers, and their internal designation: Aten-Khem. Perhaps, it was the precursor of a chemical weapon based on the term Khem, but that was a wild thought."
Peter: "This is a perilous trip. Were you armed? Were the officers armed?"
Sebastian: "We were armed, only pistols."
Peter: "Did the convoy manage to arrive in Van City without difficulties?"
Sebastian: "The trip to Van City was long and grueling. We had no problems at checkpoints. Captain Schmitt had a special touch for knowing when to provide the guards with a little silver to expedite our travel and reach our clients in time. In Van City is where the next leg of the trip is revealed; Khoy."
Peter: "Very rugged terrain."
Sebastian nods.
"Presenting new challenges."
Sebastian: "I had no way back. I could not even terminate the mission; I needed the German team for my own survival. We sold the vehicles, bought mules and horses, loaded our merchandise, and took on the mountains. Almost two-hundred kilometers of snow, ice, and wind."
Peter: "Did you encounter resistance?"
Sebastian: "We used to purchase supplies from local tribes and bands. Captain Schmitt would pay them well with silver. On one occasion, they returned for all. We were organized in defensive perimeters. They arrived on horses, perhaps fifteen or twenty. We know they were approaching, but we waited for them to set the tripwire. We had bought tank mines on the black market in Van City, and they worked."
Sebastian makes a short pause and continues.
"There were too many, and we had only pistols, which meant they had to get really close. Then I see a big flash in front of my face, and I black out."
Peter: "You were wounded."
Sebastian: ''This is where I lost my left eye."
Peter tightens his lips and nods. Sebastian looks very sober and continues.
"When I open my right eye... I saw the Germans next to me, looking at me. Captain Schmitt said with enthusiasm. You made it, you are a soldier now, you little aristocrat worm. You now have warrior's blood, Kurt's blood."
Peter: "Remarkable."
Sebastian: "...and I was supposed to... They were my enemies."
Peter: "What happened next?"
Sebastian: "In Khoy we bought two vehicles on the black market. Captain Schmitt would not allow me to create new documents. My injury was significant and could jeopardize the mission. The team loaded the lead coffers, and we traveled mostly at night to Tabriz, where we rested for a few hours and pressed on towards Tehran to meet our Iranian contact."
Peter: "Did you encounter any difficulties on the road from Tabriz to Tehran?"
Sebastian: "Although this road was not considered part of the Persian Corridor, it presented difficulties with Soviet troops. This is where the German officers' knowledge of local languages became essential. Overnight, they became 'Persians'. I was still not sure how to handle the mission and the German officers. I did not want to turn them to the Soviets, although we were allies."
Peter: "What happened in Tehran?"
Sebastian: "We arrived at night and drove directly to the rendezvous' warehouse. In less than a minute, the vehicles exchanged hands, and without ceremony, vanished."
Peter: "Remarkable."
Sebastian: "The next morning, when I woke up, the officers were gone. An old lady said something to me in broken German: there was tea, food, and a package."
Peter: "What was in the package?"
Sebastian: "My payment. They paid in diamonds; there was enough to buy a small country. The service received the payment in full on my return to England. Then they crafted this ring with one of the diamonds."
Sebastian removes the ring and hands it to Peter. Peter reads the inscription inside.
Peter: "Thank you for your service."
Sebastian: "Priceless. I did not have anything to show for this mission, only my memory."
Peter hands the ring back to Sebastian.
Peter: "If the German officers survived the war and are watching this, what would you tell them?"
Sebastian, lifting his right hand with an almost imperceptible tremor, asked,
Sebastian: “Can I tell them?”
Peter: “Of course.”
Peter answered, and with a gentle gesture, pointed toward the camera.
Peter: “Just look into the lens, and tell them.”
Sebastian looked at the camera, his eye moist with tears.
Sebastian: “Fellows, Germany was wrong.”
The studio fell into a deep silence as the camera slowly pulled back from Sebastian, gently bringing Peter into the frame.
Peter: “On behalf of the BBC, and your country, thank you for your service. It has been an immeasurable pleasure speaking with you today.”
Sebastian nodded, attempting to remain composed, but his lower lip trembled softly. Peter turned to the lens, leaving Sebastian slightly out of focus, and said,
Peter: “Thank you for spending this hour with us today at Studio 6. If you have any comments, please remit them to the address appearing on your screen. Do not forget to join us next Wednesday at the same hour, when we will be interviewing Captain Reginal Churchill, a Navy legend who was pivotal in Operation Dynamo during the evacuation of Dunkirk.”
With a gentle smile, he finished,
Peter: “Good night.”
After a brief moment, a man in the background speaks.
Background-Man: "Cut!"
The camera kept rolling.
Sebastian, noticeably tired, kept his gaze fixed on the floor. Peter approached and knelt in front of him.
Peter: “Thank you for this, Sebastian.”
Sebastian: “Do you think they will see this?”
Peter: “I sure hope so.”
Peter pauses and places his right hand on Sebastian's shoulder gently.
Peter: “Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own? Should I call you a cab, or can I drive you home?”
Sebastian: “Thank you,” Sebastian said quietly, pointing at the right side of the frame. “My daughters are waiting for me in the lobby.”
In the background, technical conversations and the muted sounds of equipment being moved could be heard.
The tape ends.
Aftermath
Every morning at BBC Studio 6, Peter arrived with predictable punctuality. He would walk past Hellen’s desk, his assistant, and collect his daily mail.
“Good morning, Hellen!”
“Good morning, Peter!”
After the brief exchange, Peter would continue into his office, sit at his desk, and begin browsing through the mail as usual—until an envelope stopped him cold.
He held it between his fingers a moment longer than necessary. The faint scent of old paper seemed impossibly alive.
“Hellen,” he said over the intercom, his voice barely hiding excitement.
“Remember the segment we did on Sebastian, the intelligence officer?”
“Should I bring you his file?” she asked, teasing.
“No. Just put me through to his phone, would you love?”
Seconds later, the line clicked.
“Peter? Sebastian is on line 2,” Hellen announced.
Peter lifted the receiver. “Sebastian! Got a letter from Captain Jan Schmitt.”
A low chuckle came through the line. “I’m sure that was not his real name,” Sebastian said. “But… go on.”
Peter read aloud, letting the words roll slowly:
"You were one of us. I hope you know that. Germany was wrong, but not all who fought under her banners were lost to decency. I remember.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “He… he remembers everything. After all these years.”
Sebastian’s voice softened, quieter than the line deserved: “And I have remembered him too.”
For a moment, across miles and decades, the war seemed to shrink—leaving only the men who had survived it, and the code they shared.
Postscript
By Jose Marino Albernas
This work is a piece of fiction.
In preparing it, I listened to many hours of recorded testimony from veterans, including interviews preserved by the Library of Congress Veterans History Project, and studied historical BBC reporting, in order to understand the tone, restraint, and respect with which such lives are properly approached.
We are here because of them.
To the veterans — and to all men and women of decency who, in one way or another, stood in defense of what we hold dear — thank you for your service.
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