Kühlenthal’s enthusiastic endorsement of the Mincemeat documents was therefore not the end of the assessment process. The material had to make its way through several layers of analysis. There were German intelligence analysts who were skeptical, who noted that the documents were suspiciously convenient, who suggested that such perfect-seeming intelligence of this type should be treated with caution. The historical record indicates that these skeptical voices were not entirely silenced.
But the voices in favor of treating the documents as genuine were more influential, at least in the short term. The material matched German preconceptions about Allied intentions. It appeared to come from a reliable source — the documents were authentic-looking British military correspondence, not something that smelled of fabrication. And it arrived at a moment when German intelligence was actively trying to assess Allied intentions in the Mediterranean and was genuinely uncertain about the next move.
The German army’s OKW command structure had its own bureaucratic logic. Hitler’s involvement in assessments of this kind reflected his personal tendency to involve himself in intelligence matters. His meetings with Albert Jodl, the OKW Chief of Operations, and with Canaris, involved discussion of the Mincemeat material and its implications. The decisions taken — the movement of the 1st Panzer Division, the reinforcement of Sardinia, the strengthening of Greek coastal defenses — reflected a German assessment that the material was genuine and that it required a response.
The specific documents and messages that show this German response have been the subject of scholarly analysis by historians including Denis Smyth, whose 2010 book on Operation Mincemeat drew extensively on Spanish and German archival sources. Smyth’s work is particularly valuable because it provides an outside view of the Spanish handling of the documents that is not dependent on British sources with an interest in presenting the operation as successful.