TRADING WITH THE ENEMY: AN EXPOSE OF THE NAZI-AMERICAN MONEY PLOT 1933-1949
Chapter 7: Globes of Steel
Throughout World War II, Sosthenes Behn was an investor in the Swedish Enskilda Bank, chief financier of the colossal ball-bearings trust known as SKF. Goring's cousin Hugo von Rosen and William L. Batt, vice- chairman of the War Production Board, were directors of SKF in America throughout the war, dedicated to keeping South American companies on the Proclaimed List supplied with ball bearings.
Tiny ball bearings were essential to the Nazis: The Luftwaffe could not fly without them, the tanks and armored cars could not roll in their missions of death. ITT's Focke-Wulfs, Ford's autos and trucks for the enemy, would have been powerless without them. Indeed, World War II could not have been fought without them. Focke-Wulfs used at least four thousand bearings per plane: roughly equivalent to those used by the Flying Fortresses. Guns, bombsights, electrical generators and engines, ventilating systems, U-boats, railroads, mining machinery, ITT's communications devices -- these existed on ball bearings.
With its 185 sales organizations throughout the world, SKF could have contributed a fine example of Sweden's economic democracy at work. However, SKF was concerned only to make profits, trade on both sides of the fence in wartime, and act as a front for German interests. It was in part an arm of the Swedish government since its representatives abroad were often ambassadors, ministers, or consuls, who represented Swedish policy all over the world. SKF represented virtually every industrial combine in Sweden and every member of the board was part of the companies that controlled the entire Swedish economy. Founded in 1907, SKF, with its subsidiaries, was the largest manufacturer of bearings on earth. It controlled 80 percent of bearings in Europe alone. It also controlled iron ore mines, steel and blast furnaces, foundries and factories and plants in the United States, Great Britain, France, and Germany. The largest share of its production until late in World War II was allocated to Germany: 60 percent of the worldwide production of SKF was dedicated to the Germans. Some indication of SKF's attitude toward the Allies can be gauged from the fact that while the German factory at Schweinfurt produced 93 percent of capacity, the U.S. company in Philadelphia produced less than 38 percent, and the British less than that.
And ball bearings were among the most powerful weapons of The Fraternity's sophisticated form of wartime neutrality. Their inventor and the power behind their production and distribution as SKF chairman was Sven Wingquist, a dashing playboy friend of Goring and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. He was a prominent partner in Jacob Wallenberg's Stockholm Enskilda, the largest private bank in Sweden -- a correspondent bank of Hitler's Reichsbank. Wallenberg was large, athletic, impeccably Aryan -- comptroller of mining, shale oil, electrical goods, munitions, iron mines -- virtually the whole industrial economy of his native country. Sosthenes Behn and Wingquist were in partnership with Axel Wenner-Gren of U.S. Electrolux in the gigantic Bofors munitions empire: Bofors supplied Germany with a substantial part of its steel production in World War II.
As stated, American directors for the duration were Goring's second cousin by marriage Hugo von Rosen, and William L. Batt. A hard-bitten and driving individualist, Batt was born in Indiana; he began in railway shops, where he learned a machinist's trade from his father. He earned his engineering degree at Purdue in 1907; next year he was employed in the ball-bearing plant of Hess-Bright Manufacturing Co. of Philadelphia. When Hess-Bright amalgamated with SKF in 1919, he rose rapidly to become president of the company in 1923.
A big man, with the hands of a lumberjack, black patent-leather hair, a prominent nose and a jutting cleft chin, Batt dressed in high fashion, and sported monogrammed silk handkerchiefs and Sulka ties. His SKF factory in Philadelphia rivaled the giant sister factories in Goteborg in Sweden and Schweinfurt in Germany. SKF Philadelphia was the subject of glowing articles in The Wall Street Journal and Fortune magazine, its products reaching a staggering $21 million a year by 1940.
With war approaching, and the fear of America entering the conflict, Hugo von Rosen and fellow board members traveled to their German and Italian plants, which were jointly owned with Germany and Italy, and promised their managers that if it proved difficult to ship ball bearings to Nazi or Italian affiliates in Latin America through the British blockade, Philadelphia would take over whether or not Roosevelt declared war. Simultaneously, the SKF directors protected their associated chemical company, I.G. Farben's Bosch, with the aid of John Foster Dulles. Batt was president of American Bosch. Dulles, the Bosch/General Aniline and Film attorney, set up a voting trust to protect the company with himself and Batt as trustees after Pearl Harbor. He was thus enabled to save the company from being seized until the spring of 1942, five months after America was at war.
Dulles also proved helpful in setting up similar protections for SKF: protections that lasted until the end of the war. He helped organize a deal whereby Batt became the nominal majority shareholder with trustee voting rights. Since American-owned companies could not be seized by Alien Property Custodian Leo T. Crowley, this proved to be a protection.
With the outbreak of war, Roosevelt appointed Batt vice-chairman of the War Production Board, whose chairman was Sears, Roebuck's Donald Nelson. Batt worked from 8 A.M. until after midnight, so busy that his lunch consisted of apples and milk eaten in the middle of meetings while he kept relighting his cold pipe with a lighter in the form of a cannon.
From the moment he took up his position on the War Production Board, Batt instituted the famous motto "Patch and pray." Ignoring the fact that his fellow Fraternity members had caused these very shortages, and that he was wartime majority trustee shareholder for companies collaborating with the enemy, he blasted the public on the radio for being extravagant with rubber and scrap metal. He insisted that housewives turn in their tin cans, old tires, tubes, leaky hot water bottles, rubber gloves, and aprons. He called for all old newspapers to be sent for packing ammunition; he enforced voluntary surrender of rags, used wool, and even fats for glycerin. At the same time, he cheerfully overlooked the fact that scrap had gone to build the bombs that were rained on Pearl Harbor. He moved smoothly between that whited sepulcher of Republicanism, the Union League Club of Philadelphia, and the New Dealers on Capitol Hill. He was smart enough to express admiration of the Red Army when he went to Russia on the famous Averell Harriman mission. It was convenient for him to be called a "pink" while maintaining his Nazi connections.
During his period with the War Production Board, which lasted for the duration, Batt's behavior was largely in the interests of The Fraternity. He was ideally situated to turn a blind eye to von Rosen's trade with Proclaimed Listees, given his immense influence and the fact that he had innumerable government employees on his staff throughout North and South America and neutral Europe. Because of war and the blockade, it was difficult for SKF in Sweden to supply its Proclaimed List customers south of the Panama Canal. As a result, von Rosen saw to it that those same companies were supplied direct from Philadelphia.
Von Rosen was under direct orders from Stockholm to supply the Latin American Nazi-associated firms irrespective of the fact that there was an overwhelming demand for all available ball bearings in the United States. He was to base his sales on the principle of Business as Usual rather than on the needs of the war effort. Batt, accepting these arrangements, could not use the excuse that he was in effect working for a Swedish company and therefore had to obey neutral rules, since he himself as an American owned 103,439 shares of capital stock.
Under von Rosen's directorship and Batt's trusteeship, SKF production in wartime failed to reach even the minimum of American expectations. This fact infuriated Morgenthau, who designated the stocky, feisty Canadian-born Lauchlin Currie of the White House Economics Staff to hammer away at the government to stop this outrageous circumstance. Currie was seconded by a very determined and thorough official of French extraction, Jean Pajus of the Office of Economic Programs, who prepared millions of words in reports on the doings of Batt and von Rosen until as late as 1945.
Delving deep into records, Currie found that the all-important Curtiss Wright Aviation Corporation was unable for fifteen months after Pearl Harbor to secure sufficient ball bearings from SKF and came close to closing down. Worn-out ball bearings caused crashes that cost American lives. At a time when every plane in the country was desperately needed for the war effort, large numbers of planes were grounded because of the lag in supply.
In June 1943, one loyal, patriotic executive of SKF finally lost all patience with von Rosen and went to Washington to see Batt in his role of vice-chairman of the War Production Board to complain bitterly of the SKF shortages that were hampering America's fight in the air. Batt listened coldly and then said, "Nothing can be done. Nor will it be done." That was the end of the matter. The executive resigned.*
Someone on the SKF staff even doctored the inventories in Philadelphia so that it seemed only a few million ball bearings were ground out, when in fact vastly more had been produced. Sometimes, for American use, von Rosen manufactured an outer bearing part without its inner component and vice versa. It exasperated Currie and Pajus that the incomplete bearings were useless.
While holding up orders, causing bottlenecks (with the collusion of the indispensable Jesse H. Jones), and causing shortages, von Rosen did not only ship to South America. He also sent to Sweden secret patents, detailed charts, and private production details. Knowing that these might be intercepted by British or American censorship in Bermuda, members of his staff placed the precious documents in the diplomatic bags of the Swedish embassy in Washington. Neutral diplomatic bags were precluded from seizure or search in time of war. Currie wrote, in a memorandum summing up Batt's collusion, on May 3, 1944: "Batt was busy ... pulling all wires he could in the U.S. Office of Censorship and with the British Purchasing Commission."
At the same time these activities were continuing, the SKF Philadelphia operation was issued a general license to deal internationally throughout the war. And Batt's retention in his official position during World War II can only be ascribed to Roosevelt.
Treasury even allowed SKF to get away with posing as an American-owned corporation, despite the fact that Treasury had records of the Swedish-German ownership in its possession. When Lauchlin Currie became too inquisitive, Batt deliberately burned all of the appropriate SKF correspondence and accountancy files.
On April 10, 1943, a loyal and patriotic American, J. S. Tawrsey, chief engineer on the SKF board of directors, resigned following a furious quarrel with Batt. He charged that SKF was "destructive to the war effort," that SKF had failed to meet orders for 150,000 deliveries per month to the all-important Pratt-Whitney fighter airplane engine company, and that Batt was flagrantly working against America despite his WPB role. In disgust with the company, Tawresey joined the Air Corps. He contacted Treasury. Franklin S. Judson of the Foreign Economic Administration flew to see him at an Air Force base in Florida. The men had a charged meeting in which Tawresey poured out his heart on the doings of SKF. Angrily he charged von Rosen and many of his staff with anti-Semitism and pro-Nazi feelings, and said that they blatantly held the United States up to scorn at board meetings and in private conversations. Currie was horrified. He wrote Morgenthau a blistering report on the meeting, followed by an equally damning SEC report, but nothing happened to the company as a result.
Throughout the war an old reliable of The Fraternity proved to be helpful. The National City Bank of New York siphoned through money to Sweden: the SKF profits from Latin American dealings. Officially, all National City Bank's Swedish accounts were frozen on Roosevelt's orders. Somehow, Batt managed to use his government influence to have the funds specially unblocked by license for transfer across the Atlantic.
As war went on, it became necessary to cloak SKF shipments to South America in case members of the FBI should discover what was going on As a cover, von Rosen set up a subsidiary that took a leaf out of the Standard Oil book. Registered in Panama, it was protected by Panamanian laws from American seizure. Ball bearings traveled from American ports on Panamanian registered vessels. Over 600,000 ball bearings a year traveled in this manner to Nazi customers in South America including Siemens, Diesel, Asea, and Separator, as well as Axel Wenner-Gren's Electrolux and Behn's ITT. Transfer was made of purchasing funds through the Nazi Banco Aleman Trans-atlantico. Von Rosen used a crude code in his telegrams, all of which were passed through the diplomatic bag. "Wild duck glace arrived, also Schnapps" meant that ball bearings had arrived along with their component parts.
When Germany began to run short of ball bearings in 1943, despite the vast shipments from Sweden and its own local production, more were needed from South America. So von Rosen arranged for reshipment from Rio and Buenos Aires via Sweden. The British, utterly dependent on SKF for their own ball bearings, appeased the dubious corporation by issuing special Navicerts allowing vessels to pass unsearched through the blockade to Sweden. Even the Russians concurred -- they, too, needed SKF.
A curious series of events took place in 1943. Early in October, Batt flew to Stockholm in an American Army bomber accompanied by Army representatives. The ostensible purpose of the mission was to secure further supplies of ball-bearing production machinery, despite the fact that there was quite sufficient in Philadelphia. Details of his meetings with Jacob Wallenberg and Wingquist were not disclosed. However, on October 14, when General Henry H. ("Hap") Arnold, U.S. Army Air Force chief, commanded a raid on SKF's giant Schweinfurt factory, he was shocked to discover that news of the supposed bombing had been leaked to the enemy. The result was that America lost sixty planes in the attack. Arnold told the London News Chronicle on October 19, "I don't see how they could have prepared the defense they did unless they had been warned in advance."
For the first time since Pearl Harbor there were some signs that action might be taken by the American government. The energetic Jean Pajus spearheaded a drive to expose SKF.
Meanwhile, General Carl Spaatz of the U.S. High Command in London was furious because the Swedes were tripling their shipments to Germany with British and American official authorization after the raid on Schweinfurt. He called U.S. Ambassador John G. Winant to his headquarters on March 13, 1944, and blasted him about his handling of the matter, claiming that Winant was "playing along with the British." Spaatz screamed, "Our whole bomber offensive is being nullified!" Winant, red-faced and smarting from the dressing down, asked his assistant Winfield Riefler to look into the matter. Riefler found that the British Ministry of Economic Warfare, which was supposed to enforce the restrictions of shipments, was failing to do so because Britain was as dependent on Swedish SKF as Germany -- following Luftwaffe raids on the SKF subsidiary's plant in Luton.
On March 20, Lauchlin Currie wrote to Dean Acheson that he was drastically concerned by the gravity of the situation: "During the past few months our air forces have made sixteen heavy and costly raids for the sole purpose of destroying the ballbearing production capacity of the Germans. But while we are eliminating German production at tremendous sacrifice in planes and men, Swedish production continues to be available to the enemy. Swedish shipments to Germany in 1943 were at an all-time peak." Acheson did not reply.
On April 13, 1944, U.S. Ambassador Herschel Johnson had a meeting with Swedish Foreign Minister Christian E. Gunther in Stockholm. Gunther pointed out that negotiating the three-way pact between the United States, Britain, and Germany had been immensely difficult and that if Sweden should break the pact now, Germany could react violently. Gunther added sharply, "American public opinion would see the justice of the position taken by Sweden if Sweden should publish the entire correspondence in which it would appear that trade between Sweden and Germany was on a contract basis known to the Allied governments and based on prior agreements with them." Thus it was clear the Swedish Foreign Minister was threatening the United States: if it didn't play along, Sweden would disclose to the American public that its government was making deals with the enemy.
Lord Selborne, Minister of Economic Warfare, gave his views to Riefler of Winant's staff in London. He was responding to a U.S. government proposal that SKF should be put on the blacklist if it refused the request for an embargo. Selborne totally disagreed with the proposal. He felt that such a threat would be a fatal blunder. He begged Riefler to dissuade the U.S. government from such a course. Instead, the British government felt that the entire output of SKF should be bought by the United States outright: a sure source of dollars for the Nazis. It was clear that Selborne was concerned that in the event of blacklisting, Britain would be left without its vast influx of ball bearings. Not only were bearings immediately expected by ship, but there were 350 tons being held at Goteborg by British supply authorities. He felt that these would be held hostage, and seized by the Swedes in reprisal if Swedish property in the United States or Britain should be seized. There was also the danger of thousands of tons of bearings loaded on two British cargo ships, Dicto and Lionel, being hijacked at sea.
On April 25, Under Secretary of War Robert P. Patterson advised Secretary of War Stimson that Sweden had rejected the U.S. demand to stop shipments to Germany in excess of those agreed to in 1943. He wrote, "Sweden, I am sure, will try to drag the matter out by iscussions, holding out hopes to us that exports to Germany will be reduced in the future. This has been her policy in the past, and she'll try it again." Patterson pointed out that Sweden was furnishing Germany with munitions that killed American soldiers, that 20 percent of the shells fired at Americans came from Swedish iron ore, and that the Swedes were getting large quantities of petroleum when the British and U.S. were short of it for war purposes. He added, "I ... believe that the government should make the facts public." It was a futile hope.
On April 27, Lieutenant James Puleston, Navy liaison in the Foreign Economic Administration, wrote to Lauchlin Currie that "no confidence whatsoever" should be placed in Jacob Wallenberg, that the idea of the embargo was a "mirage" and "a pleasant dream." He felt that a much more effective way to secure cooperation was for the State Department to threaten cutting off oil supplies to Sweden; he disliked Swedish ships "hanging around" American and Caribbean ports "because we believe that there are enough pro-German crews [in the Swedish navy] to act as spies." He added in his report to Currie:
If we dilly-dally or accept the half measures proposed by Wallenberg and the State Department we abandon the last battle before it begins -- ... If we go through the [oil embargo] we can at least put the additional loss of American lives where it belongs -- squarely in the State Department. If we do not, we will share this responsibility and, personally, I don't want to think that a single American soldier died because I did not press the State Department for the proper action.
Pressing the State Department was no easy matter. However, in April 1944, Treasury was finally able to induce Dean Acheson to agree to hire someone to fly to Sweden and try to buy off the Enskilda Bank from supplying Germany.
The choice of special emissary fell on a curious figure. Instead of sending Currie or Harry Dexter White, Acheson and Morgenthau selected a banker and movie executive of Paramount Studios, Stanton Griffis, who was better known as a socialite than as an expert in economics. He flew to London, where he was joined by a smooth young economist and Red Cross vice-chairman named Douglas Poteat. The two men squeezed into a cramped Mosquito aircraft and flew through violent electrical storms to Stockholm. There, at the gloomy and overpowering Grand Hotel, they met with Ambassador Johnson and with Jacob Wallenberg.
On the second morning of his stay at the Grand, Griffis woke up to see a waiter standing with a breakfast. The man said in a heavy Balkan voice, "I am an American secret agent. I will be working for you and will keep you informed. In Room 208, where you will be meeting with [the Swedes], the Germans have installed listening devices. In Room 410 is Dr. Schnurre of the Nazi government, who is hoping to outbid you in the ballbearings negotiations." Griffis was astonished by this little speech. He assumed the man was a jokester or a plant. But from that moment on the waiter, who was working for the OSS, kept him informed of every movement of Wallenberg and the Nazis.
The negotiations in the gloomy Enskilda Bank boardroom dominated by Wallenberg family portraits were slow and tedious. Griffis obviously knew nothing of the links between Batt and the Axis, because in the course of his discussion he said to one of the SKF executives, Harald Hamberg, "You can hold out as long as you like, but the U. S. is not going to stand by while you make machines to kill American boys." Hamberg, no doubt hiding his knowledge of the matter, replied, "How do you know that our ballbearings help kill American boys? "Whereupon, Douglas Poteat took out a handful of ball bearings and laid them on the table. "Where were these made?" Poteat asked. The executive examined them. "In Sweden," he said. And Poteat added, looking the executive in the eye, "Every one of these was taken from a German plane shot down over London."
At last, after several weeks, an agreement was reached. Griffis authorized $8 million to be paid to the credit of the Enskilda Bank. When the war was over, Griffis guaranteed, there would be no anti-trust action against SKF. SKF would keep all of its German properties forever, and all SKF Nazi connections in the United States would be forgiven, forgotten, and -- more importantly -- unexposed.
Meanwhile, public criticism was beginning to surface: SKF workers in Philadelphia got wind of the dealings with the Nazis. An article appeared in the liberal newspaper PM, charging von Rosen and Batt with gross malfeasance and trading with enemy collaborators. Various disaffected SKF executives, troubled by the nature of the corporation to which they belonged, began to snitch.
Batt gave The Washington Post an interview on May 14, 1944, saying that production in Philadelphia would be hurt if the company were nationalized or Proclaimed Listed in response to press criticism from the Left. He insisted he was not a Nazi front and he denied that Goring's relative was his partner. He described von Rosen as "a salesman." He admitted that he voted 95 percent of the stock without revealing that his ownership was to protect the company from seizure as an alien concern.
But the loyal American executives, and workers on the assembly lines in Philadelphia, grew increasingly restless. There was a series of union meetings, in which shop stewards talked angrily of a strike. Many workers went home to their wives and children, muttering about collaboration with the enemy. It seemed that what the U.S. government had lamentably failed to do -- put SKF out of business -- the workers might.
Batt didn't lose control. On May 16 he called a mass meeting of the eight thousand employees of SKF in the large truckyard of the factory. His wavy black hair, strong face, and powerful broad-shouldered figure always inspired confidence in the workers, who tended to trust him no matter what the evidence against him. He delivered a speech, standing on a high platform flanked by four American flags flapping in the wind. He shouted, "None of our production is reaching the enemy! I assure you of that, my friends! All these rumors about Nazis influencing our company in Sweden are sheer nonsense! These kinds of rumors are just Hitler propaganda to pull us down!"
This outrageous lie was greeted with cheers by eight thousand gullible workers. They were hugely relieved and almost ran back to the assembly lines. Somebody in the government got to PM and forced it to issue a retraction. On May 18 the Treasury and the Office of the Alien Property Custodian issued a joint statement to the press to the effect that following an investigation of SKF, it was "totally absolved of all alleged collusion with the enemy." The statement went on, "Both the War and Navy departments have advised the Treasury Department and the Alien Property Custodian that all of the production of SKF Industries and SKF Steel contributes to the war effort of the United States ... SKF Industries and SKF Steel have excellent records for war production, and state that any serious loss of production would have an immediate and serious effect on production of war munitions needed for plant operations."
On June 13 the agreement was concluded between SKF and the governments of the United States and the United Kingdom regarding reduced bearings exports to the enemy. Despite the expert example of public relations shown by William L. Batt, it was clear that the government was uneasy about advertising the fact that Nazi Germany was still being benefited by the Allies. A note on the top of the State Department memorandum dated June 13 and listing the amount of shipments reads: "It has been agreed to keep this arrangement secret not only during the period of its operation, but also after its termination."
In July a series of memoranda of the Foreign Economic Administration was shuffled between government departments alleging that so far from adhering to the $8 million agreement, SKF was indulging in a so-called triangular trade, shipping via Spain, Portugal, and Switzerland to the enemy to avoid charges that they were shipping directly. Every effort possible was made to get around the agreements. Unfortunately, the memoranda show, since the U.S. government had whitewashed SKF, it could scarcely expose these new activities. Under Secretary of War Patterson kept hammering away at the issue, but nothing was done about it. A helpless Lauchlin Currie could merely try to reassure everyone that everything would be all right in the end.
On behalf of the Foreign Economic Administration, Jean Pajus prepared a devastating indictment of William Batt, Hugo von Rosen, and SKF as a whole on September 15, 1944. Following a pocket history of the corporation up to date, he summarized the key matters as follows. He stated that Batt had been "under SKF orders to supply the Latin American market, irrespective of current war orders in the United States, and to base all sales in the United States primarily on the long-term business interests of the company rather than the needs of the war effort." He pointed out that directives from the Swedish plant came through the Swedish Legation in Washington, thus escaping the normal channels of censorship. These directives showed that a company collaborating with the enemy could exercise control of a vital U.S. industry.
Pajus reiterated that SKF production had not reached even minimum expectations; that there had been great lapses in ball-bearings deliveries to vital war industries; that as a result planes had been grounded; that William L. Batt could have corrected the situation but had not done so. He summarized the deliberate tying up of raw materials, the associations with enemy corporations, and the overall disgrace of a so-called American company controlled by enemy interests. SKF remained unpunished.
The Norwegians, who had suffered enough from Swedish collusion with the enemy, struck out in the only way possible. They showed their protest on December 4, 1944. Norwegian workers at the SKF plant in Oslo destroyed the entire factory by explosion and fire, disposing of $1.5 million worth of ball bearings.
Meanwhile, Dean Acheson failed to put SKF Philadelphia on the Proclaimed List, as he was empowered to do. Instead of taking new action against SKF as new public criticism began to surface, he simply urged Morgenthau and Currie to keep up a series of public relations statements that SKF was loyal and decent -- in order not to hamper the war effort.
Lauchlin Currie's belief that matters would improve as the war neared its end proved to be unfounded. On December 9, 1944, Jean Pajus wrote to U.S. Ambassador Johnson in Stockholm that he was shocked at the continuing trade. He wrote, "After the losses in men and planes sustained in the attack on Schweinfurt, what would the American people think if they learned that SKF is still supplying the German war machine with ballbearings?"
By early 1945 it was painfully obvious that Stanton Griffis's $8 million was largely useless. Not only did it absorb merely a part of the ball-bearings shipment, and a small part at that, but the Swedes were infringing on the agreed maximum shipments all down the line. It was only when it was obvious that Hitler was about to lose the war that Sweden finally showed some signs of adhering to its agreements.
The war ended as Griffis had arranged, without punishment for William L. Batt or any of his circle. Hugo von Rosen was, of course, protected by his "neutrality." In the weeks at the end of the war, Batt suddenly turned up in Germany and visited the military decartelization branch in Berlin. He conferred with Brigadier General William H. Draper, in charge of decartelization, making sure that the secret promises made by Griffis to Wallenberg would be kept: that nothing would be done to disrupt the Swedish interests in SKF in Germany, that none of the plants in Germany would be broken down or removed, and that he and his American colleagues would not be subject to antitrust action. It goes without saying that the promises were kept.
* Name not given in government reports.