Born in St. Petersburg (Russia) and raised in Latvia, Dr. Fred Hermann Brandt [1901-1994] was a figure in German military intelligence during World War II. As an entomologist, he had traveled to Iran in 1937-1939 to study and collect butterflies and moths, publishing several scientific articles on the results of his expeditions. During the war, as a member of the German Wehrmacht, Brandt was trained as a counterintelligence agent and led a battalion of Brandenburg units in 1939-1940. He was initially sent to Afghanistan, ostensibly as part of a "leprosy research commission", where German intelligence had infiltrated the Pashtun tribes and hoped to organize an uprising against the British. In early 1944, Fred Brandt and some of his Tajik men were sent by the Wehrmacht to northern Albania to set up a base at Nikaj, with the aim of securing the German withdrawal routes from the south. There he was in close and friendly contact with British intelligence officers. In early October 1944, after losing contact with German intelligence in Peja and Belgrade and after hearing that many German officers were being arrested and shot as traitors by the Nazi leadership, Brandt decided to accompany the British officers to Lezha and by ship to Bari - as a prisoner of war. In an article to be published in the British periodical Sunday Pictorial In 1957, long after World War II, Fred Brandt was described as “the cunning Colonel of Butterflies. He pretended to only want to catch butterflies, while in reality he was Colonel Brandt, a master of hostile espionage, trying to wrap a web of death around British agents ... This spider-man was the master of Nazi agents, one of the most incredible men in the dark history of espionage and betrayal during the war.” In 1973, Fred Brandt wrote and published the following report on his extraordinary activity in Albania.

By: Fred Brandt[1]
English translation (from German): Robert Elsie
Translation into Albanian (from English): Agron Shala / Telegrafi.com

My superior in Peja, an intelligence captain, explained to me that he had received orders from Belgrade to set up a base in the Albanian Alps, west of Gjakova. The aim was to prevent British Intelligence officers from providing the Albanians with arms and equipment, and to encourage them to cut off our supply routes to the south and blow up a chrome mine that was important to the war effort.

I was supposed to create and maintain this German Wehrmacht base in the Albanian Alps, along with some Tajiks.

From Peja to this rugged mountain range was about 75 kilometers. The base had to be located deeper in the mountains, on the other side of the 1,800-meter pass. The territory leading to the mountain range consisted of dense forests that stretched for 30 kilometers from the Valbona River. On the other side of this stream rose the rocky cliffs of the Albanian Alps.

The region had only narrow paths, usable mainly by mules. The base would therefore be a full two days' march from Peja, a factor that created the first problem - supplies.

Before expressing my opinion on the plan, I asked my superior for permission to explore the territory. He agreed.

I set out in the early days of March 1944 with six Tajiks and one Albanian from Gucia in Montenegro, to reach the northernmost part of the Albanian Alps. Our armament consisted of seven light machine guns, seven pistols and six hand grenades each. The Albanian had an Italian carbine and we had sufficient ammunition.

First we crossed the 2,000-meter pass that marks the border between Montenegro and Albania, which was still covered with seven meters of snow at that time. There was a snowstorm on the frozen parts of the pass that took our breath away. After a fifteen-hour march, we arrived in the narrow valley of Theth where I was welcomed by an Albanian I knew. From here I moved through the snow-covered villages, up and down for three weeks, most of the time without clear paths. At this time I learned that the leader of the partisans, of a force of about three thousand men, was an Albanian named Nik Sokoli. I was informed that a British officer was at his headquarters which was located on a rocky part of Curraj, in Nikaj-Mërtur. Nik Sokoli had built his nest high in the rocks.

Now I knew where I had to go. Only after meeting with Nik Sokol would I know if it would be possible to set up a base in the Albanian Alps, as requested.

After two more days of grueling marches - sometimes we had to dig our own way through deep snow - I reached the Nikaj valley. Nik Sokol's house was on the other side of the valley, high in the Grey Iron Rocks [?], almost at the tree line. I spent two more days looking for a guide to take me up there, but none of the Albanians were willing to go with a German soldier to visit the mighty men. Finally I decided to go myself. I made a show of placing all my weapons in front of the Nikaj church, for all to see, and set out to meet Nik Sokol. It was evening when I set out and crossed the Curraj bridge, and it was pitch dark when I reached the first houses on the other side. There I managed to persuade an elderly Albanian to accompany me.

We arrived at Nik Sokol's house around midnight and asked to be let in. I was sitting on the rug by the fireplace when Nik Sokol's wife, a Serb, came in and explained that her husband was not at home. She asked what I wanted. I said that I had come as a friend and that I needed to meet her husband. After midnight, two partisans arrived. They said that they would take my message to Nik Sokol and that I should wait there for them.

The two partisans returned the next morning and told me to follow them. The march down the valley took almost an hour, until we arrived at an isolated farm that was full of heavily armed partisans. They took me to the guest room, where Nik Sokoli was sitting by the fireplace. About a dozen partisans, his subordinate officers, were sitting on the floor on either side of the room.

According to Albanian custom, I was first offered two cups of strong Turkish coffee as a sign of welcome. Nik Sokoli drank with me. Then he asked what I wanted. I asked to speak to him alone, as I had an important message for him and then he could decide for himself whether or not to tell his officers. He made a short sign and all the men left. When we were left alone, I told Nik Sokoli that I had come by order of the German Army command in Belgrade to set up a base in Nikaj. I did not want to come as an enemy, but as a friend, and I would give any help I could. I would consider the English as his guests and would not attack them or try to expel them.

It was not so easy to explain. We discussed everything in detail until we reached an agreement point by point. Finally, Nik Sokoli shook my hand in a sign of peace. Then he took off my military cap and put the white Albanian plis on my head, skillfully arranging it from the back. I had to wear this white plis in the mountains so that all the Albanians would see that I had come as a friend.

Before his officers returned, I advised Nick Sokol not to fight against the German troops and not to get killed for the British. It would be better to pretend to be fighting, shoot here and there in the air and then tell the British how many Germans he had killed and how many vehicles he had destroyed, etc. In return, we would throw in more weapons and whatever else he wanted. He would then not have to fear any German retaliation. Nick Sokol looked at me in surprise without saying a word. I felt that he had taken my advice seriously.

When the officers returned, Nik Sokoli explained to them that I was his and their guest in Nikaj and that I would set up a base, with my six soldiers, which would be to the benefit of all. The men were enthusiastic and exchanged many brotherly kisses on the cheek. However, Nik Sokoli did not tell them what I had advised him to do. This would remain our secret.

Then a ram was slaughtered and a feast was prepared. Late at night I returned to my men at Nikaj's church. I had with me the two partisans who had accompanied me that morning to Nik Sokoli. He had given them to me as constant companions and fighters.

The next morning we marched east with them and then headed south to skirt the mountain along the Drin. The mountain passes were still covered with snow and it was difficult to cross. That evening we arrived in the village of Paje, where we were met and welcomed by the local bajraktar, a friend of Nik Sokoli. Another feast was held, with eating and drinking until late at night. The next day we continued north along the eastern slope of the mountain, until, in the evening, we reached a bridge over the Valbona. The river was swollen and could only be crossed there. Nearby was a single house that served as a small shop. As we approached, shots rang out. It was now dark, so no one could shoot directly at us. Our two partisans shouted to explain who we were and the shooting stopped. When our men explained to them, and the partisans, that we were friends of Nik Sokoli and thus their friends, they welcomed us and we spent the night there.

Early the next morning, we crossed the rickety bridge over the Valbona and continued through the snow-covered forest of Bytyç until we reached Dega. There had been a British base here in February, but the Intelligence Service officers had managed to leave in time. Now it was my task to join the ends of the net that had been rolled up here and which now covered the whole of Northern Albania. I already had one end of the net in my hand - in Nikaj!

There was nothing in Dega but ruins - no food, no shelter. So we had to continue eastward, through the deep melting snow, across swollen rivers and streams. Only in the evening did we reach a settlement where we could get food and shelter. The next day I was back in Peja. My journey of discovery, my observation, had lasted three weeks.

I reported to my superior what I had seen, experienced and achieved. He agreed with everything. I received orders to set up a base in Nikaj and I had complete freedom of action. In early April 1944, I then set up a base in Nikaj, with six Tajiks, in a house that Nik Sokoli had vacated for us and given to me. We had at our disposal one machine gun, one light mortar, seven light machine guns, seven pistols and ten hand grenades per person.

On Easter Sunday I first attended mass at the Catholic church in Nikaj, accompanied by my Muslim subordinates. Then we went up to Nik Sokol's house to pay him an Easter visit. There I met Major Neel, the head of the [British] Intelligence Service in the region. Nik Sokol and his men were sitting around a low table (about 20 centimeters high) with the British major and his translator, an Italian sergeant who spoke perfect English. We left our weapons leaning against the wall and sat down with them. They left a place for me to sit, right next to Major Neel. We were both guests in Nik Sokol's house, so there could be no hostility. After a polite handshake, Major Neel filled our brandy glasses with whiskey and we drank to each other's health. This set the pace for further "friendship".

I met Nik Sokol again a few days later. He mentioned the advice I had given him not to fight against the German troops, but simply to pretend to do so and deceive the British. He stated that he was willing to do this if I would tell Major Neel that I had no objection to parachute drops on Nikaj and the surrounding region, as long as the material dropped was for Nik Sokol. I agreed.

The next evening, my “two” partisans came to pick me up for another meeting with Major Neel. I assured him that I had no objection if he wanted to order materials from Bari and give them to Nik Sokol. I told him that my men and I would even help bury the parachutes. Nik Sokol had told me that this was a big problem. The containers were often appropriated by “irregular” partisans and sometimes more than half the material was lost.

The next parachute jump went off without a hitch. There were no problems and we even managed to retrieve the parachute with gold and mail for the British officers. I was the one who marked the landing site with fire so that the pilots could find the right direction at night.

This was just the beginning. Later I sat with the men, when the goods were distributed. I also made friends outside Nik Sokoli's unit and advised them not to kill for the British, but to live at their expense. However, I was unable to get in touch with the Albanians who were in blood feud with the Russian legionnaires in Peja, who were under the command of my intelligence captain. The reasons for the blood feud would go beyond the scope of this report.

In mid-May 1944, Major Neel suggested that I accompany him to a meeting of Intelligence Service officers in Northern Albania. I had little time to consider the proposal, as they intended to leave that evening. I took two of my Tajiks and “two” of my partisans with me. We were accompanied by Nik Sokoli with five men, and Major Neel with his translator. We were all heavily armed when we set out from Nikaj. After a march that lasted several days, mostly at night, we reached the Fushë-Lura region where we were given guides who accompanied us eastward through the mountains, beyond the Black Drin. The British base was located in a lonely Albanian house filled with weapons and other materials. There were also two radio operators. The other participants arrived the next day. They had been stopped by some Albanians who had known and informed the German authorities. As a result, an SS unit suddenly appeared and began to search the village, which consisted of isolated peasant houses, located far from each other. We fled from our house and hid in a bush, observing events through binoculars. It was cold and the light rain had soaked us thoroughly.

Evening finally came. The SS men down in the valley, tired from their unsuccessful search, were looking at the unguarded houses on the slopes. They shrugged their shoulders in resignation and left, and we quickly returned to our warm shelter. The next day we were joined by eight more British officers. It was a strange mix of people: English, Germans, Tajiks and Albanians, whose fates had been briefly intertwined. We immediately reached an understanding. I promised to protect Major Neel and his men from dangers, especially from Albanian bandits. For my part, I wanted to strengthen my base at Nikaj, but this depended on my superior in Peja and on Nik Sokoli. I expressed my clear and unequivocal opposition to any combat activity, even indirect, involving German troops. The British accepted this position.

We set off and two days later we went our separate ways. Major Neel and Nick Sokoli went west to meet some Albanian friends of theirs. I headed north to return to my men. We did not know the area and it was full of partisans. The British officer stationed there, a major, accompanied us and his men as far north as Bihac [Bytyc?]. We returned to Peja via Prizren and Gjakova, where I reported to my superior and informed him of everything. He agreed with my contacts with the “competitors” and said he would inform Belgrade. He also asked Belgrade for reinforcements for my men.

A week later, a lieutenant colonel from our Belgrade intelligence service arrived in Peja. I informed him of everything. He was convinced that my orders from the Army Command could only be carried out in the manner I described. He gave me complete freedom of action and approved twenty more Tajiks for Nikaj. “The British are absolutely right,” he said, “you can’t hold a base with six people”! His last words were: “Keep it up”!

At the end of June, Major Neel appeared with another Intelligence Service officer, Lieutenant Hibberdine, who spoke good German, and a radio operator to keep in touch with Bari. At the end of July, at the request of the British and with the approval of my superior, I set up a joint camp with them in the forest. They were under my protection there. Nik Sokoli and some of his partisans had set up camp nearby. They were being supplied with food by the British. I had ordered food and supplies to be brought by mule on a difficult march from Peja, but now the return route was blocked by the partisans. As a result, we too were now being supplied by the British! In addition, Major Neel gave me three machine guns, two mortars, twenty-five light machine guns and plenty of ammunition, enough for a long period of fighting with the communist partisan bands. We spent the whole of August in the camp. Then Major Neel received orders to go to the Shkodra region. I declared that I was willing to accompany him with my men. “I have never felt safer in Albania than under your protection,” he told me. For this, he was obliged to accept my control over his activities. As long as we were together, Major Neel could not be involved anywhere in the fighting against German troops. Nik Sokoli and his men also came with us.

In early September, we set up camp at a base 1,600 meters high in the Shllaku Mountains, north of Shkodra. A few kilometers below was a long clearing in the forest, suitable for airdrops. About this time, Major Neel received orders to destroy a German fuel depot and to blow up a bridge over the Drin. He could carry out these orders only with the help of the Albanians. I, however, forced them to make a decision - to continue to be my friends or friends of the British. They chose me. My Tajiks also refused to engage in fighting against the German troops, although Lieutenant Hibberdine did everything he could to persuade them to join his side.

Influential Albanian partisan leaders were increasingly appearing on the lawn near our camp, which had a good source of running water - a rarity in this dry region. I went there almost every day and was no longer considered a protege of Nik Sokoli, but the commander of the British camp. Even the British themselves began to consider me their "colonel". They treated me as their equal. I soon gained a following among the Bajraktars and even Nik Sokoli proudly declared that he was my friend!

One thing was clear to all Albanians - the need to create a national army in the North to oppose the communist partisans who were forming in the South of the country. But where would they find the weapons and equipment for such an army? I promised to ask the British. I had begun to feel very attached to these Albanians and suffered with them because of their situation.

That evening, at dinner, I spoke to Major Neel explaining what needed to be done. After the withdrawal of German forces, an Albanian national government needed to be established and supported. He reacted enthusiastically and promised to contact Bari immediately about this idea.

The answer came two days later - complete agreement! The Northern Albanians would receive everything they needed, even weapons, and we were to inform the British headquarters of the things they needed most urgently. The next morning, I brought the good news to the Albanians in the forest clearing. They rejoiced!

The next step was to choose a leader for the national resistance movement. The choice fell on me. I was acceptable to all sides and I was neutral. The Catholics considered me one of their own. The Muslims considered me a follower of Allah, and I was also a friend of the British, their commander, even a “colonel.”

About this time I received a warning from Albanians that the SD [Nazi Security Service] had put a price on my head – dead or alive. I was not surprised. I had been hearing reports on the radio, day after day, and I knew of the wave of arrests of German intelligence officers. Although a “small fish”, nothing more than a first-class soldier, I had been collaborating with the British for months. What proof did I have that I was following orders? None. I had no idea where my superior was, now that Peja had been evacuated, and who knew if the lieutenant colonel in Belgrade would remember me?

The Albanians had been excited for about a week. Groups from all over the country were coming and wanting to fight with us. New armed forces were beginning to rise. Nik Sokoli had advanced with his men to the outskirts of Shkodra. In total, we now had over 2,000 men on our side, all waiting for the British to drop their equipment. But nothing came, except a message for Major Neel to go to the coast near Lezha, with the Albanian leaders, to board a British naval ship that would take them to Bari for an important meeting. We were guaranteed safe passage. We were ready to leave when a second message arrived. We were not to go to the coast, but to Montenegro, to the Berana area, where there was a British airstrip. From there we would be flown to Italy. The Albanians, of course, refused to go to Montenegro, to the Serbs, their sworn enemies. As a result, only Major Neel, his Italian translator, and I, with three of my twenty-six Tajiks, set off north. After a few days of marching, we reached Guci. The British had already abandoned the airstrip near Berane, due to the German troops retreating through that area. The situation there was so confused that we decided to return to our camp in Shkodra.

There we received news from Bari that all promises made to the Albanians had been withdrawn. They would receive neither weapons nor food from the British. Everything was over! Major Neel was ordered to leave the camp near Shkodra immediately and head for the Adriatic coast. My Tajiks and I had the right to decide for ourselves whether we wanted to accompany him. If so, we would be guaranteed the status of prisoners of war. This happened in early October 1944.

For the last time I descended to the forest glade to tell my Albanian friends what I had heard. It was a bitter mission and a painful farewell, now that all our common hopes were extinguished. A farewell, forever. I could do nothing but accept the British offer. I could not stand alone in a country that was on the verge of civil war.

A few days later, we reached the coast, south of the Drin delta, in an isolated area of ​​lagoons and marshes. Despite great technical difficulties, we managed to board two small warships. Two Albanian national leaders came with us to try, one last time, to convince the British to change their minds. But their mission also failed. There was no change. The British all left, and the Albanians were left to face their fate alone. I stood on deck and watched the Albanian Alps to the east disappear into the mist. I had spent eight months there as a German soldier, as a Brandenburger, and had lived with the partisans, fulfilling the orders given to me by my superior. /Telegraph/

______________


[1] Fred Brandt: Bei den Partisanen in Albania, published in the periodical Die Nachhut: Informationsorgan für Angehörige der ehemaligen miltärischen Abwehr, Munich, Vol. 23-24 (1973), pp. 21-30. Translated from the German by Robert Elsie.

factsCult