Adolf Clauss instructed Guardia Civil Lieutenant Colonel Santiago Garrigós to obtain copies of the briefcase documents. Too frightened to approach naval authorities directly, Garrigós acquired an inventory from a contact, revealing three letters addressed to senior Allied commanders. Clauss enlisted the pro-German civilian governor, Joaquín Miranda González, but he also failed to secure the letters.

In London, Montagu and Cholmondeley orchestrated the next phase. Hillgarth sent an unencrypted cable about the funeral, followed by a TOP SECRET message from London expressing anxiety about the missing papers, intended to be intercepted. A separate secret cable instructed Hillgarth that failure to retrieve the documents was desirable: Hillgarth must appear increasingly worried to signal their importance while ensuring German interception. He quietly spread rumors in Madrid and made a discreet verbal approach to Navy Minister Moreno, whom he knew maintained contact with the Germans. He also tasked his trusted agent “Andros” with tracking the briefcase.

On May 5, Captain Elvira informed Haselden that the effects were being sent to Cádiz and then Madrid. Hillgarth relayed this through interceptable channels. The Germans, having monitored British communications, grew desperate and pulled strings. Major Luis Canis in Seville, a German agent and the head of counterespionage for the region, sent a junior officer to Cádiz, who obtained photographs of some contents but was refused access to the sealed letters. Before Canis could intervene personally, Admiral Moreno ordered everything sent unopened to Madrid.

Montagu and Cholmondeley anxiously awaited confirmation that the Germans had seen the documents. Montagu grew irritable under the strain, drafting a sarcastic resignation letter. Meanwhile, Kühlenthal urgently searched for the briefcase in Madrid. The Abwehr contacted the Gestapo and their informants in Spain’s state security apparatus, but initial inquiries failed. Spanish air force officer Captain Groizar took up the search, and his persistent inquiries attracted the attention of Colonel José López Barrón Cerruti, head of state security and a supporter of Hitler. Once Barrón became involved, the documents’ discovery became inevitable.

The man who delivered the documents to the Germans remained unknown until 1945, when Ian Fleming’s intelligence unit captured German admiralty archives at Tambach Castle. The files identified Lieutenant Colonel Ramón Pardo Suárez of the Spanish General Staff as a long-term Abwehr informant. Pardo likely acted on instructions from a higher authority, possibly prompted by Colonel Barrón’s interest.

Spanish intelligence used an ingenious technique to extract the letters: pressing on the envelope to create a gap, then inserting a thin metal probe with a hook to snag and roll the damp paper out from under the wax seals, leaving them intact. The letters were dried with a heat lamp—the planted eyelash fell out unnoticed—and copied. Spanish officials ignored the padding letter to Eisenhower.

Pardo brought the letters to German embassy Abwehr chief Wilhelm Leissner, granting him one hour. Leissner and Karl-Erich Kühlenthal immediately recognized their significance. Though Leissner found it suspicious that the documents named an operational codename, “Husky,” Kühlenthal believed them unquestioningly. Leissner had them photographed in the embassy basement while standing over the photographer to prevent him from reading them, then informed German ambassador Hans-Heinrich Dieckhoff. The originals were returned to Pardo, who oversaw their reinsertion into the envelopes, observed by Kühlenthal. The letters were dampened in salt water, then returned to the Spanish Navy Ministry.

Kühlenthal personally flew the copies to Berlin on May 9. His subsequent report contained several inaccuracies: He claimed the corpse clutched the briefcase (it was actually chained to the body), misidentified theater tickets as nightclub receipts, and incorrectly dated them April 27 instead of April 22. This created a timeline suggesting only three days in the water, contradicting the autopsy’s finding of 8-10 days of decomposition.

Back in London, Montagu and Cholmondeley remained unaware that the documents had reached Berlin. On May 11, the Spanish Chief of Naval Staff returned the briefcase to Hillgarth in Madrid. His knowing manner revealed the contents had been examined, though he claimed everything was intact. Hillgarth sent the package to London, reporting it was extremely probable the information had reached the enemy. In fact, the Germans had already had their copies for two days.

The task of authenticating the documents fell to Fremde Heere West, the German army’s intelligence branch at Zossen. This analyzed all intelligence related to Allied planning, reporting directly to Hitler and the high command. FHW was run by Lieutenant Colonel Alexis Baron von Roenne, a meticulous former banker whom Hitler trusted implicitly. On May 11, von Roenne signed the first assessment, addressed to General Alfred Jodl’s operations staff.

Von Roenne’s report fully accepted the deception: Attacks would target Greece (Operation Husky) and Sardinia (Operation Brimstone), with Sicily being used only as a cover target. He suggested Germany mount a counter-deception by feigning Sicilian reinforcements. Most remarkably, von Roenne declared the documents showed “absolutely convincing proof of the reliability of the letters” (231). This was unusual, as FHW typically distrusted uncorroborated Abwehr intelligence. Macintyre suggests von Roenne may have endorsed the documents because he secretly opposed Hitler and recognized them as false information that would damage the Nazi cause.

Macintyre details von Roenne’s secret anti-Nazi background. Though appearing as the consummate Nazi intelligence officer, he privately detested Hitler and Nazi brutality. From 1943 onward, he deliberately inflated Allied troop numbers to mislead the German high command, a tactic that would prove crucial during the D-Day deception. Though not directly involved in the July 1944 assassination plot, his friendship with Claus von Stauffenberg and other conspirators later led to his arrest, conviction, and execution. In May 1943, however, he remained Hitler’s most trusted intelligence analyst, making his endorsement of the Mincemeat documents decisive.

On May 12, Montagu’s secretary Juliette Ponsonby brought the latest Bletchley Park intercepts, including a message from General Jodl informing German Mediterranean commanders of imminent large-scale landings in the eastern and western Mediterranean, describing the source as “absolutely reliable.” The message provided full details of the planned Greek attack exactly as described in Nye’s forged letter. Room 13 erupted in celebration. A telegram immediately went to Winston Churchill at the Trident conference in Washington.

That same day, German ambassador Dieckhoff in Madrid sent a telegram to Berlin confirming the information, and Spanish Foreign Minister Francisco Gómez-Jordana y Souza told him in confidence that attacks should be expected in Greece and the western Mediterranean. Hitler initially questioned the intelligence, but by May 12, he was convinced. He issued a directive prioritizing defense of Sardinia and the Peloponnese above all else, reversing earlier German assessments that Sicily was the most probable target.

Some German officers remained skeptical. An FHW officer codenamed “Erizo” demanded more details about the body’s discovery, suggesting analysts had noticed contradictions between the autopsy timeline and the documents. Kühlenthal’s subsequent report from Madrid attempted to resolve inconsistencies by altering the pathologist’s timeline, claiming the body was in the water 5-8 days (not the stated 8-10), and attributing accelerated decomposition to sun exposure.

Major Martin’s briefcase went missing for a week en route from Madrid to London, causing alarm in Room 13. When it finally arrived on May 21, forensic analysis confirmed German tampering. Though wax seals remained intact, the planted eyelash was missing. Analysis of paper fibers showed one letter had been refolded while wet, and as the letters dried, they curled, proving they had been tightly rolled. A plan was devised to reinforce the deception: Hillgarth would tell Admiral Moreno that British experts found no evidence of tampering, a message certain to reach the Germans. Hillgarth’s conversation with Moreno revealed that the admiral maintained contacts with both sides, simultaneously reassuring the British while passing secrets to the Germans.

On May 14, Captain Ullrich of the German General Staff provided an assessment for Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, declaring that no remaining doubts existed about the documents’ reliability. Dönitz read and endorsed the report, as evidenced by his initials found on the document after the war. In his war diary, Dönitz noted Hitler agreed that attacks would target Sardinia and the Peloponnese, not Sicily, as Mussolini believed. Hitler wrote to Mussolini stating that the found documents confirmed an imminent Peloponnese invasion requiring immediate German reinforcements.

The deception spread through multiple channels, reinforcing its credibility. RSHA chief Ernst Kaltenbrunner told Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop that his spies confirmed the targets. Turkish embassies reported similar intelligence. General Jodl was overheard saying Sicily could be forgotten. The same false information echoed back to Germany from different sources, each apparently confirming the others. On May 19, Hitler held a military conference expressing his preoccupation with protecting the Balkans and their essential resources. He decided to transfer an armored division to the Peloponnese. Montagu’s joke about sardines in the forged letter focused German attention on Sardinia, which General Walter Warlimont identified as strategically critical. By May 20, Mussolini was convinced.

Only Joseph Goebbels expressed doubt. On May 25, he recorded in his diary that the conveniently discovered letter might be “camouflage.” He discussed this privately with Admiral Canaris but kept his suspicions quiet.

As the real July 10 Allied invasion of Sicily approached, Allied deception planners worked to maintain the lie. They built up signs of a fictional Twelfth Army in Cairo. On June 7, Kühlenthal asked his double agent Garbo to investigate Greek troops apparently training in Scotland, evidence that the Germans fully accepted the deception. 

London instructed Hillgarth on May 21 to erect a gravestone for Major Martin. Francis Haselden placed a wreath from the fictional “Father and Pam.” Lancelot Shutte visited the grave daily to check for disturbance, and Hillgarth dictated a letter to Martin’s fictional father, intended for German eyes, detailing the arrangements. Montagu sent a reply confirming the safe return of personal effects. Hillgarth gave fisherman José Rey a £25 reward. To make the death official, Major Martin’s name was added to the Royal Marines casualty list, and commanders were secretly ordered to take no action. The death notice appeared in the Times on June 4, 1943. In late May, intercepted messages revealed the First German Panzer Division was moving from France to Greece in response to the deception. On June 8, Montagu wrote an interim report concluding that Mincemeat was successfully diverting German attention and achieving its objectives halfway to the planned Sicily invasion date.