The Americans
created a “black
list” of untrust-
worthy German
geodesists. The
director of the
Leipzig Observa-
tory was
“a Nazi of the
worst type.”creative. After several neutral countries balked at
letting Espenshade and Shallenberger search their
institutes and libraries, Hough procured letters from
the Library of Congress certifying the men as its rep-
resentatives engaged in bibliographic research. A
similar ploy got Shallenberger into the pope’s private
library at the Vatican, which was strictly off -limits to
members of any military, owing to the Vatican’s sta-
tus of neutrality.
Finally, by early March, the Allied forces resumed
their eastward progress and were poised to cross the
Rhine into the German heartland. HOUGHTEAM’s
window of opportunity was opening.
ON MARCH 4, HOUGH LEFT PARIS with Mills, his
fellow engineer, and three enlisted men. They entered
Cologne on March 7, and, the next day, toured the
captured city’s massive Gothic cathedral, seemingly
the only building to have escaped Allied bombing.
On March 9, they received word that Bonn had been
captured, and they made it there by nightfall. There
they interrogated the director of the local geodetic in-
stitute, who led them to a hidden alcove that held a
box of valuable books. The man claimed he’d stashed
the materials there despite orders to evacuate them
across the Rhine. “It is surprising that these Germans
cooperate as they do,” Hough wrote in his daily memo
to his superiors in Washington. Whether the scientist
was anti-Nazi or was simply afraid of what the Ameri-
cans might do to him, Hough wasn’t sure.
Hough and his men entered Frankfurt at the end
of March, the day after it was captured, taking shel-
ter in one of the few structures still standing in the
business district. Buildings were still burning. Water
was scarce. They found some in two bathtubs the
Germans hadn’t drained before fl eeing. But HOUGH-