American Intelligence in War-time London: The Story of the OSS (Cass Series--Studies in Intelligence)

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AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

The Story of the OSS

Related Books of Interest British Military Intelligence in the Palestine Campaign 1914–1918 by Yigal Sheffy British Military Intelligence in the Crimean War, 1854–1856 by Stephen M.Harris Signals Intelligence in World War II edited by David Alvarez Knowing Your Friends: Intelligence Inside Alliances and Coalitions from 1914 to the Cold War edited by Martin S.Alexander Eternal Vigilance: 50 Years of the CIA edited by Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones and Christopher Andrew Nothing Sacred: Nazi Espionage against the Vatican, 1939–1945 by David Alvarez and Revd Robert A.Graham Intelligence Investigations; How Ultra Changed History by Ralph Bennett Intelligence Analysis and Assessment edited by David Charters, A.Stuart Farson and Glenn P.Hastedt TET 1968: Understanding the Surprise by Ronnie E.Ford Intelligence and Imperial Defence: British Intelligence and the Defence of the Indian Empire 1904–1924 by Richard J.Popplewell Espionage: Past, Present, Future? edited by Wesley K.Wark The Australian Security Intelligence Organization: An Unofficial History by Frank Cain Policing Politics: Security Intelligence and the Liberal Democratic State by Peter Gill From Information to Intrigue: Studies in Secret Service Based on the Swedish Experience 1939–45 by C.G.McKay Dieppe Revisited: A Documentary Investigation by John Campbell More Instructions from the Centre

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by Andrew Gordievsky Controlling Intelligence edited by Glenn P.Hastedt Spy Fiction, Spy Films and Real Intelligence edited by Wesley K.Wark Security and Intelligence in a Changing World: New Perspectives for the 1990s edited by A.Stuart Farson, David Stafford and Wesley K.Wark A Don at War by Sir David Hunt K.C.M.G., O.B.E. (reprint) Intelligence and Military Operations edited by Michael I.Handel Leaders and Intelligence edited by Michael I.Handel War, Strategy and Intelligence by Michael I.Handel Strategic and Operational Deception in the Second World War edited by Michael I.Handel Codebreaker in the Far East by Alan Stripp Intelligence for Peace edited by Hesi Carmel Espionage and the Roots of the Cold War: The Conspiratorial Heritage by David McKnight Swedish Signal Intelligence 1900–1945 by C.G.McKay and Bengt Beckman

AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WARTIME LONDON THE STORY OF THE OSS

Nelson MacPherson

FRANK CASS PUBLISHERS LONDON • PORTLAND, OR

First published in 2003 in Great Britain by FRANK CASS PUBLISHERS Crown House, 47 Chase Side, Southgate London N14 5BP This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” and in the United States of America by FRANK CASS PUBLISHERS c/o ISBS, 920 N.E. 58th Avenue, Suite 300 Portland, Oregon, 97213–3786 Website: www.frankcass.com Copyright © 2003 Brian Nelson MacPherson British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data MacPherson, Nelson American intelligence in War-time London: the Story of the OSS 1. United States. Office of Strategic Services—History 2. World War, 1939–1945—Secret service—United States 3. World War, 1939–1945—Secret service—Great Britain 4. Great Britain—Foreign relations—United States 5. United States—Foreign relations—Great Britain I. Title 940.5 48673 ISBN 0-203-49271-4 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-58199-7 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0-7146-5419-1 (Print Edition) (cloth) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data MacPherson, Nelson. American intelligence in War-time London: the Story of the OSS/ Nelson MacPherson. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-7146-5419-1 (cloth) 1. World War, 1939–1945—Military intelligence—United States. 2. World War, 1939–1945—Military intelligence—Great Britain. 3. United States. Office of Strategic Services—History. I. Title. II. Series. D810.S7M253 2003 940.54/8673–dc21 2002041472 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book.

Contents

Acknowledgements

viii

List of Abbreviations

x

Introduction

1

Chapter 1:

The British Intelligence Community: Setting the Tone for OSS

16

Chapter 2:

The Genesis of OSS/London, and the British Dimension

41

Chapter 3:

Servants of OVERLORD: SO, SI, and the Invasion of Europe

63

Chapter 4:

Reductio Ad Absurdum: R&A/London’s Quest for Relevance

90

Chapter 5:

Falling Short of the Target: EOU, SIRA, and the Pitfalls of R&A

112

Chapter 6:

Inspired Improvisation: William Casey and the Penetration of Germany

143

Chapter 7:

Following the British Example: X-2 and Morale Operations

169

Chapter 8:

Full Circle: Anglo-American Intelligence and the Transition to Cold War

193

Conclusion

233

Bibliography

243

Index

267

This book is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Mrs Orma B.MacPherson, 14 October 1930–7 January 2001. Everything I have accomplished in my life I owe to her. I will always be her son.

Acknowledgements

This book owes much to a great deal of support and encouragement from a variety of sources. I am grateful for the opportunity to acknowledge them here. The research for this book was made possible by the generous financial support of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Alberta Heritage Scholarship Fund, and the NATO Research Fellowship programme. The Centre for International Studies at the University of Toronto, the Associates of the University of Toronto, the Royal Canadian Legion, and the University of Salford’s European Studies Research Institute also provided funding. For their help in my research, I would also like to thank: Mr John Taylor and the staff of the Military Reference Branch, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC; Dr Richard J. Somers, Dr David Keough, and the staff of the US Army Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks; and Professor John Kieger, European Studies Research Institute, University of Salford. Appreciation is also due the staffs of the Public Record Office, Kew; the Churchill College Archive Centre, University of Cambridge; the Robarts Research Library, University of Toronto; the Metropolitan Toronto Research Library; and the Mackimmie Library, University of Calgary. Material from the Public Record Office is cited by permission of the Controller of Her Majesty’s Stationary Office. Material from the McLachlan-Beesly Papers is cited courtesy of the Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge. The bulk of Chapter 4 appears in the International Journal of Intelligence and Counter Intelligence (Fall 2003), and its material is used here with permission of Editorin-Chief Richard Valcourt. An earlier version of Chapter 6 appeared as ‘Inspired Improvisation: William Casey and the Penetration of Germany’, Intelligence and National Security 9, 4 (October 1994), pp. 695–722, and its material is used here with permission of Frank Cass Publishers. Every effort has been made in good faith to seek and obtain permission to quote from known copyright materials. If, through oversight or ignorance, any permission is outstanding, every effort will be made to rectify the situation upon notification by the appropriate copyright holder(s). I am indebted to Professor Martin S.Alexander, Department of International Politics, University of Wales, Aberystwyth, for his considerable advice and

ix

encouragement in supporting the publication of this book. Professor David J.Bercuson, Director of the Centre for Military and Strategic Studies, University of Calgary, generously made the Centre’s facilities available to me during the final completion of the manuscript. His advice and encouragement while I was a CMSS Research Associate has also been very important. For other advice or comments on my work, I would like to thank: Professor Christopher M.Andrew of Corpus Christi College, University of Cambridge; Professor John R.Ferris of the Department of History, University of Calgary; and Dr Richard J.Popplewell, late of the University of Salford. Ms Georgina ClarkMazo, Ms Sarah Clarke and Ms Sally Green of Frank Cass Publishers are also thanked for their guidance. Any remaining errors of presentation, fact or interpretation nevertheless remain my own. Appreciation for their personal support is particularly due to: my father Neil and brother Andrew; Mr Robert and Mrs Blanche LaVoie; Mr Robert E.Lawrence, BMus, MA, Mr Norman and Mrs Brenda Lawrence; Mr Murdoch and the late Mrs Dollie MacLeod; Mr Bruce G. Thompson, BA, LLB, MA; and Mr Geoffrey and Mrs Tracy Phillips. Thanks are also due to Ms Shelley Wind and my other colleagues at the Centre for Military and Strategic Studies, University of Calgary, for their help and friendship during my tenure there as a Research Associate. Finally, I would like to express my thanks to Ms Ada K.Sun, BA. She has been particularly supportive throughout the various stages of this project. Her faith in my abilities has been very important and much appreciated.

Abbreviations

A-2 Abwehr ACoS Adm. AEAF AFHQ AG AI Baker Street BBC BCRA BEW BI BJSM Black Bletchley Park Brig. BRISSEX Broadway

BRUSA BSC

US Army Air Force Intelligence German espionage service; see GIS Assistant Chief of Staff in US Army formations Admiral Allied Expeditionary Air Force Allied Forces Headquarters (Mediterranean) Army Group Royal Air Force Air Intelligence From the street address of SOE Headquarters, 64 Baker Street, London; used as a short hand for the organization itself British Broadcasting Corporation Bureau Central de Renseignements et d’Action, Gaullist espionage agency; see also DGER US Board of Economic Warfare Bureau of Information, the Dutch espionage agency British Joint Staff Mission, Washington, DC Clandestine propaganda Buckinghamshire location of Britain’s GC&CS/GCHQ SIGINT unit Brigadier; a British Brigadier was equivalent to an American Brigadier-General Codename for British-controlled SUSSEX agents; BRItish +suSSEX From the street address of SIS Headquarters, Broadway Buildings, London; used as shorthand for the organization itself; see also MI6, Secret Service British/USA agreement of 1943 British Security Coordination

xi

‘C’ CALPO Capt. CAS CBO CCS ‘CD’ CD Cdr CE CES CG CHARLES CI CIA CICIP CIG CIGS C-in-C CO COI Col COS COSSAC CROSS CSS CSTC DCAS DCOS DDI DEG DGER DIP DMI

Traditional appellation for the Chief of SIS; see also CSS Moscow-controlled Comité de l’Allemagne Libre pour l’Ouest; French Office of Free Germany Committee Captain British Chief of the Air Staff Combined Bomber Offensive Combined Chiefs of Staff Codename for the Head of SOE OSS Censorship and Documents branch Naval rank of Commander Counter-espionage SO Central European Section Commanding General SO communications station at Hurley, England Counter-intelligence US Central Intelligence Agency British Combined Intelligence Centre Iraq and Persia US Central Intelligence Group, immediate precursor to the CIA British Chief of the Imperial General Staff Commander-in-Chief Commanding Officer Office of the Coordinator of Information; predecessor of OSS Military rank of Colonel British Chiefs of Staff Committee Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Commander SO’s 1945 proposed assassination project against Nazi/ Gestapo officials Chief of the Secret Service; see also ‘C’ Combined Strategic Targeting Committee; successor to JOTC British Deputy Chief of the Air Staff British Deputy Chiefs of Staff OSS Deputy-Director of Intelligence An item of CI interest derived from ULTRA Direction Generate des Etudes et Recherches, successor to BCRA SI Division of Intelligence Procurement British Director of Military Intelligence

xii

DNI DOUBLE CROSS E EAM Englandspiel Enigma EOU EPR ETO ETOUSA EWD FBI FIS FN FNCL FO FORD FRPS G-2 G-3 G-5 GAP GC&CS GCHQ Gestapo GHQ GIS H2S HDE

British Director of Naval Intelligence British counter-espionage programme against German intelligence in Britain Economic series of SIS intelligence reports Greek Communist movement German counter-espionage control of SOE/Holland networks in 1943 Brand-name commercial cipher machine adapted for use by the German military Enemy Objectives Unit attached to the Economic Warfare Division of the US Embassy in London European Political Report European Theater of Operations European Theater of Operations, US Army Economic Warfare Division of the US Embassy in London US Federal Bureau of Investigation Foreign Information Service of COI; later absorbed by the Office of War Information Foreign Nationalities branch of OSS French National Committee of Liberation British Foreign Office Foreign Office Research Department; successor to FRPS and PID British Foreign Office Foreign Research and Press Service; predecessor of FORD US Military Intelligence Division Staff US Military Operations Division Staff US Military Civil Affairs Division Staff German Air Force British Government Code and Cipher School British Government Communications Headquarters Gen. General Geheime Staats Polizei; Nazi Secret State Police General Headquarters German Intelligence Service(s); Allied countries designation for combined RSHA/Abwehr Designation for Allied air navigation radar system British Home Defence Executive

xiii

HM HMSO Hut 3 IAB ISK ISLD ISOS ISPB ISTD JCS J/E JEDBURGH JIB JIC JIS JOTC JPS KENT LAMDA LPS Lt

Lt-Cdr Lt-Col. Lt(jg) Maj. Maj.-Gen. MAN Maquis MEDTO MEW

His/Her Majesty His/Her Majesty’s Stationary Office The element of GC&CS/GCHQ responsible for processing German Army and Air Force decrypts at Bletchley Park US Intelligence Advisory Board Designation for counter-intelligence SIGINT derived from ULTRA; the designation ISOS also covered this material Inter-Services Liaison Department; MI6’s overseas colonial manifestation Intelligence Service Oliver Strachey; see ISK British Inter-Services Planning Board British Admiralty Inter-Services Topographical Department US Joint Chiefs of Staff Committee JOAN ELEANOR; codename for OSS air-ground radio. Codename for SOE/SO sabotage project in support of OVERLORD British Joint Intelligence Bureau US or British Joint Intelligence Committee US or British Joint Intelligence Staff Allied Joint Oil Targeting Committee; predecessor of CSTC British Joint Planning Staff Unrealized 1944 joint SI/SIS espionage plan for penetrating Germany SIS economic reports given to SSU British Lord Privy Seal Lieutenant; a navy Lt is equivalent to an army Captain; an army Lieutenant is equivalent to a US Navy Ensign/ Royal Navy Acting Sub-Lieutenant Lieutenant-Commander Military rank of Lieutenant-Colonel US Navy rank of Lieutenant, junior grade; equivalent to a Royal Navy Sub-Lieutenant Military rank of Major Military rank of Major-General Military, Air, Naval series of SIS intelligence reports French partisans, from the Corsican word for brushwood Mediterranean Theater of Operations British Ministry of Economic Warfare

xiv

MI1(b)

First World War British Military Intelligence branch 1(b), responsible for code and cipher breaking MI1(c) First World War British Military Intelligence branch 1(c) responsible for foreign intelligence gathering; see also Secret Service MI5 British Military Intelligence branch 5, cover for the organization responsible for domestic counter espionage; see also Security Service MI6 British Military Intelligence branch 6, cover for the organization responsible for foreign intelligence gathering and overseas counter-espionage; see also Secret Service, and SIS MI6(V) MI6 Section V, responsible for counter-intelligence; see Section V MI19(a) British Military Intelligence branch 19(a), responsible for enemy Prisoner of War intelligence matters MIR British Military Intelligence Research, cover for the British Army’s pre-SOE sabotage arm; later merged with Section D of SIS to form SOE MO OSS Morale Operations branch MoD British Ministry of Defence MOI/M of I British Ministry of Information MSS Most Secret Sources; see ISK, ISOS, ULTRA NARA US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC NKVD Russian People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs (Soviet Intelligence) OG OSS Operational Group branch, equivalent of British SAS in Normandy OPSAF OSS/London Plans and Operations Staff OSS Office of Strategic Services OSSEX Codename for OSS-controlled SUSSEX agents; OSS+ sussEX OVERLORD Codename for the overall invasion of Normandy; the actual amphibious landings were codenamed NEPTUNE OWI US Office of War Information PAIR Designation for ULTRA-based CI intelligence PID British Foreign Office Political Intelligence Department; predecessor of FORD PM Prime Minister POINTBLANK Combined strategic bombing offensive against Germany.

xv

PR PRO PROUST

Photo Reconnaissance Public Record Office, Kew Independent SI espionage project in Normandy; follow-up to SUSSEX PW Psychological Warfare; Prisoner(s) of War P/W, Ps/W Prisoner(s) of War PWD SHAEF Psychological Warfare Division PWE British Political Warfare Executive R&A OSS Research and Analysis branch R&D OSS Research and Development branch RAF Royal Air Force RE8 British Ministry of Home Security Research and Experiments Department 8 RSHA Reichssicherheitshauptamt; SS Reich security office; see also GIS RSS Radio Security Service S&T OSS Schools and Training branch SA Sturmabteilung; Nazi paramilitary organization (‘Brownshirts’); literally, ‘Assault Detachment’ SA/B OSS Special Activities/Bruce, predecessor of SI branch SAFE HAVEN OSS/SSU intelligence on post-war Nazi capital SA/G OSS Special Activities/Goodfellow, predecessor of SO branch SA/H Redesignation of SA/G, predecessor of SO branch SAS British Special Air Service SASO (SB) RAF Senior Air Staff Officer (Strategic Bombing) SCAEF Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force SCI Detachment Special Counter-intelligence Detachment; X-2 teams attached to the field armies SCIU Special Counter-intelligence Units; alternative designation for SCI Detachments SD Sicherheitsdienst; Nazi Security Service Section D SIS sabotage section, later merged with MIR to form SOE Section V MI6 counter-intelligence section Security Service British organization responsible for domestic counter espionage; see MI5 Secret Service British organization responsible for foreign intelligence and imperial counter-espionage; see Broadway, MI6, SIS

xvi

SF Deatachment Special Forces Detachment; SO teams attached to the field armies SFHQ Special Forces Headquarters; combined SOE/SO JED-BURGH headquarters SHAEF Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force SI OSS Secret Intelligence branch SI Detachment Secret Intelligence Detachment; SI teams attached to the field armies SIGINT Signals Intelligence SIRA OSS combined SI and R&A intelligence processing arrangement SIS British Special or Secret Intelligence Service; see also Broadway, MI6, Secret Service SLU Special Liaison Unit SO OSS Special Operations branch SOE British Special Operations Executive SOE/SO Combined SO-SOE headquarters, later redesignated SFHQ SPARTAN Codename for the exercise which tested the JEDBURGH concept in 1943 SS Schutzstaffel, Elite Guard; literally, ‘Protection Squad’ SSO Strategic Services Officer SSU Strategic Services Unit; successor to OSS SUSSEX Codename for the joint SI/SIS espionage programme in support of OVERLORD; see also BRISSEX and OSSEX. T Forces Intelligence units with OSS representatives tasked with searching recently captured locations for material of intelligence value TC Theater Commander TORCH Codename for the 1942 Allied invasion of North Africa. Twenty Joint MI5-MI6 committee overseeing DOUBLE Committee CROSS; see also DOUBLE CROSS, W Board, XX ULTRA Eventual designation for SIGINT derived from intercepted Enigma communications; see also MSS USAAF US Army Air Force USAMHI US Army Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Carlisle, Pennsylvania USGCC US Group, (Allied) Control Commission USSBS US Strategic Bombing Survey

xvii

USSTAF VENONA VICTOR W Board

WARWICK/ COVENTRY WD White W/T WO X-2 X-B XX

US Strategic Air Forc Intelligence on Russian espionage operations in Allied countries SI communications station at Poundon, England MI5-MI6(V)-service intelligence oversight committee for DOUBLE CROSS in 1940; direct control of DOUBLE CROSS later passed to the Twenty Committee SIS intelligence reports given to SSU on Russia and Russian activities US War Department Overt propaganda Wireless/Telegraph (radio) British War Office OSS counter-intelligence branch Alternative designation for MI6(V) British Twenty Committee, a sub-committee of the W Board overseeing DOUBLE CROSS

Introduction

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men. —John Donne, Holy Sonnets, No. 10. Donne’s fatalistic maxim succinctly defines the essential context that modern intelligence services function within, and the variables determining their relative fortunes. Their experiences suggest that they are very human institutions largely shaped by the vagaries of circumstances beyond their control, not to mention misfortune and luck. As refined information used by the state to further national goals and policies, intelligence is directed, collected, analysed and disseminated (the ‘intelligence cycle’) within the milieu of international politics. Intelligence work must therefore function within the ‘anarchical society’ of Great Powers.1 Equally significant is the extent to which intelligence functionaries serve at the mercy of their policy masters. The intelligence officers themselves, in their various professional incarnations, are the ‘desperate men’ in this formulation, striving as they do to carry out their risky and/or problematic duties in the face of inertia and outright opposition on the part of rivals, enemies, and occasionally their own countrymen. It is unlikely that any intelligence service in history has ever completely escaped sub-jugation to such restrictive bondage. These facts hold particularly true for the Office of Strategic Services mission in London, America’s critical liaison and operational intelligence outpost during the Second World War. Expanding to a peak of 2,800 personnel in 1944, OSS/ London was originally established in October 1941 with the arrival of a single representative, followed by a staff nucleus the day after America’s entry into the war. Eventually consisting of contingents from the four major OSS branches— Research and Analysis, Secret Intelligence, Special Operations, and X-2 (counter-intelligence)—the mission served as a focal point for Anglo-American intelligence relations in the decisive theatre in the war against Germany. The London mission was at the heart of OSS relations with British intelligence, and as such it personified the essence of that connection in the Allied war effort. The Allied invasion of Europe ensured that OSS/London, more than any other OSS outpost, would have the greatest opportunity to perform a decisive role in the intelligence war. Other OSS missions would also make important contributions,

2 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

notably in Cairo, Algiers and Italy; but these were ultimately secondary theatres, while in the Pacific and Asia, OSS never acquired the sound relationship with the military necessary for intelligence operations. London was at the heart of the Allied war effort, and at the heart of the Anglo-American alliance itself. While intelligence exchanges with the Soviet Union have been documented by Bradley F.Smith, London was the ‘big league’ in Allied intelligence during the war.2 Many significant matters were accordingly played-out there, offering detailed examples of intelligence services in action. The experiences of OSS in London therefore illuminate the process by which America was introduced to the various components of intelligence and clandestine work, and how well American intelligence performed in its own right. As the presumed precursor to the postwar US Central Intelligence Agency, OSS further invites study in order to understand the antecedents of America’s Cold War intelligence service. The significant Anglo-American context of the evolution of modern American intelligence moreover suggests that the Anglo-American ‘Special Relationship’ had an intelligence component that was manifested most strongly and clearly in OSS/London. The mission thus provides a case study of how US intelligence matured and became institutionalized within the context of the larger Anglo-American political-military alliance. This analysis accordingly examines an aspect of that alliance, and of intelligence history in particular, that has not yet been explored in any comprehensive detail. It is part of a current historiographical review of the significance of intelligence services in military and international affairs. It specifically examines OSS/London within the context of Anglo-American relations, as well as the evolution of both modern American, and Allied, intelligence during the Second World War.3 The general research approach blends what has been termed the American and British ‘schools’ of intelligence scholarship. The more historical nature of British intelligence studies has been noted by Kenneth G.Robertson, while Roy Godson’s ‘Intelligence: an American View’, in Robertson’s British and American Approaches to Intelligence, distinguishes between this historical methodology and the more conceptual or theoretical nature of American studies (for example, Sherman Kent’s Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy). British diplomatic historian D.C. Watt has therefore identified these approaches as two distinct schools of intelligence study, though a recent noteworthy British contribution to the theoretical school is Michael Herman’s Intelligence Power in Peace and War, which surveys the interrelationship between post-war structures, tasks, and effectiveness.4 This study for its part demonstrates the influences of both schools by linking theoretical concepts to the role of intelligence ties within the larger wartime Anglo-American alliance. The purposes of this study are threefold. The first and most general purpose is to examine more closely the trend in western intelligence communities toward slow and uneven professionalization noted by Christopher Andrew and David Dilks in The Missing Dimension. In addition to underscoring the gradual and

INTRODUCTION 3

erratic professionalization of intelligence agencies, Andrew and Dilks also stress the way in which governments and intelligence consumers have slowly learned to use such agencies.5 By implication, intelligence as a vital component of government policy has had to overcome the amateurishness of its practitioners and consumers in equal measure. The history of OSS/London can accordingly test whether this phenomenon manifested itself in the evolution of professional American intelligence. The second general purpose involves judging the relevance and professionalization of the OSS intelligence effort within the Anglo-American alliance. Much of the existing literature on OSS has been preoccupied with the question of whether OSS had an impact on the war, of whether it accomplished anything of consequence. This very concern dominated the first ever OSS conference held at the US National Archives in July 1991.6 There have moreover been a number of recent works beginning to examine the documentation on the OSS operational record in various geographic areas, such as Romania and China.7 Richard Aldrich has gone a considerable way toward surveying OSS links and rivalries with British intelligence in the Far East.8 Particularly noteworthy in terms of this present study is Jay Jakub’s recent Spies and Saboteurs, a survey of Anglo-American ‘collaboration and rivalry’ in espionage and special operations in North Africa, Yugoslavia, Asia, and France. Jakub focuses on identifying varying degrees of mutual dependence and independence in these specific operational realms, and is a more substantially documented approach to the operational evolution of OSS, including within OSS/London.9 Having said that, no existing work on OSS has really addressed the experience of any OSS mission in terms of the trend identified by Andrew and Dilks, or provided a comprehensive analysis of all the major OSS branches in their activities. The question of overall OSS significance to the war effort also remains largely unresolved historiographically. This present study therefore strives to detail OSS/London’s evolution and activities comprehensively, and to establish their larger significance to the institutionalization of American intelligence after the war. The third major research goal flows naturally from the second: to illuminate this alliance intelligence relationship within the larger framework of Anglo-American ‘competitive cooperation’. This phrase was coined by David Reynolds to describe how Britain and America acted in concert as circumstances required, while still manoeuvring for advantage and preeminence as powers.10 Linking this phenomenon with the ambiguity, ambivalence, misuse and circumstance inherent in intelligence operations as suggested by intelligence theory invites an analysis of the intelligence relations between two major wartime powers, or more bluntly, to place this intelligence study within the context of Great Power politics.11 A number of key questions will be addressed while fulfilling these purposes. How many of the theoretical problems of intelligence were faced by members of OSS/London during the war? How did the outpost establish itself, and did it

4 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

mature? Was OSS/London persistently amateur, or did it make the most of its opportunities and flourish as well as could be expected? Did OSS/London reflect the popular portrait of Anglo-American intelligence relations (i.e., American dependence), or of Anglo-American relations in general (i.e., British dependence)? In other words, the popular portrait of Anglo-American relations has as its theme Britain’s gradually increasing dependence on American power in the first half of this century, especially from 1940 onwards. Conversely, the popular portrait of Anglo-American intelligence relations during the war, with the establishment of OSS, stresses the dependence of American intelligence neophytes on the worldly-wise, yet perfidious, British. The issue at hand is thus whether OSS/London’s evolution conformed to either, or both, of these characterizations at various points in time. For example, did the evolution of OSS/London change as US power made itself felt in the European Theatre from 1943 onwards? Did Britain’s growing subordination to US power develop in the intelligence sphere as it did in diplomatic and military matters? Finally, how far did mutual hidden agendas and priorities figure in the western intelligence alliance during the Second World War? To what extent was OSS/London trying to exploit its ties with British services for their own long-term bureaucratic needs, and how extensively were the British intent on using organizational links, including intelligence cooperation, to influence the application of American power for British ends? These latter questions focus on the motivations and agendas of the intelligence agencies themselves. As will be detailed in the chapters that follow, the evidence indicates that OSS/London was not necessarily slavishly subordinate or dependent on British intelligence. It in fact walked a fine line between absorbing intelligence skills from the more experienced British while trying to prove the organization’s worth and independence in order to secure its post-war status. The British, moreover, certainly extended their tutelage in order to win the war efficiently, but with the transition to cold war, Anglo-American intelligence ties were in turn exploited to mobilize American power to suit British purposes, in part by influencing the character of American intelligence so as to shape how America perceived evolving Great Power issues.12 Answering these questions involves a unique application of intelligence theory to a particular intelligence organization with a manageable historical lifespan. Blending the British and American ‘schools’ will also permit testing some theoretical concepts, and provide for a better understanding of the intelligence dimension—what Andrew and Dilks have called ‘the missing dimension’—of Anglo-American political and strategic relations during the Second World War. An essential preliminary step involves identifying the historiographic themes of Anglo-American relations.13 Broadly speaking, they bring out the consistency of competitive cooperation and manoeuvring for advantage. While Warren F. Kimball refers to the ‘most productive and cooperative coalition in modern times’, there remains the reality of increasing political, economic and strategic rivalry, culminating with Britain’s sub-ordination to America.14 Robert

INTRODUCTION 5

Hathaway stresses that the Anglo-American relationship meant more to Britain than it did to America as the war progressed. He also emphasizes how Britain attempted to manipulate its ties with America in order to secure Britain’s postwar position. Britain had to focus on the so-called ‘special relationship’, and from 1944 onwards, increasingly sought to influence actively American decisionmaking in the hope of ‘using’ American power to protect British interests.15 However, with larger, ‘home grown’, objectives in mind for the world, America exerted its will more forcefully. This was not done at the expense of the fundamental objective of winning the war, of course, but it was not done with any romantic attachment to a relationship which allowed American power to be used for British ends either. Britain needed America more than America believed that it needed Britain at the time. The ‘ultimate price’ for Britain’s diplomatic failure in 1939, then, was its increased dependence throughout the Second World War on America for Britain’s power position.16 For its part, America became increasingly convinced throughout the war that Russia was the true heir to Britain’s waning status as number two in the world.17 These factors obviously complicate the neat, tidy myth of the ‘Special Relationship’, and underscore the role of national interest in the Anglo-American partnership.18 Intelligence historiography is more varied in its treatment of the intelligence dimension of Anglo-American affairs. Before the establishment of OSS, American intelligence had historically been dominated by the American military, and this military orientation to American intelligence was notably perpetuated by the critically important work against first Japanese, and then German, ciphers by the US Army and Navy during the Second World War.19 One early assessment of this work accordingly rated it far superior to the ‘amateur, comic, unproductive, and self-serving’ actions of OSS, a description illustrating the intensity of anti-OSS partisans.20 This intensity is more than matched by proOSS historians. Corey Ford’s Donovan of OSS is a classic example of the glowingly uncritical vision of OSS founder William J.Donovan that credits him with conceiving the idea of centralized intelligence, and who is implicitly lauded for realizing an innovative American approach to intelligence by creating OSS in his own image.21 Anthony Cave Brown’s The Last Hero: Wild Bill Donovan largely concurs with this assessment based on Donovan’s papers, while Thomas Troy’s Donovan and the CIA is devoted to demonstrating the direct lineage between Donovan’s ideas and what eventually became the post-war Central Intelligence Agency.22 More analytical surveys of OSS focus on its development and effectiveness. R.Harris Smith’s OSS: The Secret History of America’s First Central Intelligence Agency was a notable first attempt at addressing the question of overall OSS effectiveness and significance as gleaned almost entirely from interviews. Harris Smith concluded that as Donovan’s child, OSS bore the stamp of his personality, and that his spirit of adventurism was institutionally preserved in the CIA. Smith therefore emphasizes the alleged legacy of OSS while generally accepting the view that OSS competence followed initial growing

6 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

pains during the war.23 A more critical view is expressed in Bradley F.Smith’s The Shadow Warriors: OSS and the Origins of the CIA. Bradley Smith stresses Donovan’s susceptibility to Britain’s experimentation with ‘shadow warfare’ (i.e., with the expedient of organized resistance and espionage as a centrepiece of the Allied war effort) since this reduced OSS to being a handmaiden of tactical military operations rather than a strategic intelligence arm. Donovan’s role in establishing centralized intelligence is also overrated in Bradley Smith’s view. Bradley Smith instead stresses the concrete influence of the large body of OSS veterans who provided the real nucleus of CIA. His work, based on examining mostly Joint Chiefs of Staff and State Department records, thus finds the presumed achievements of OSS wanting, although his analysis predated the release of the full OSS archive. Irregular warfare, espionage, the parentage of post-war US civilian intelligence, and the relevance of OSS strategic intelligence are nevertheless all cast into doubt.24 More recent works have challenged these conclusions. William Casey’s memoir, The Secret War Against Hitler, emphatically argues that the penetration of Germany in 1944–45 by OSS espionage contributed to the service’s stature by war’s end; Robin Winks’s Cloak and Gown defends the importance and relevance of OSS strategic assessments produced by the Research and Analysis branch, although Winks makes no definitive claims as to their true significance. Barry Katz’s study of R&A, Foreign Intelligence, also stresses the talent within the branch, but concedes that it was overshadowed by OSS’s clandestine activities.25 Concerning the question of Anglo-American intelligence relations, there is a fairly superficial consensus. American inexperience and/or gullibility are the major themes of the British Official Histories (Hinsley; Foot), and of the main studies of OSS. Smoother relations over time are generally described as a function of increased American experience in the official British view, while British motives for helping OSS are suspect by OSS historians.26 This portrait was presaged by events from the First World War, where the judicious use of discretion and personal diplomacy enabled the British Secret Service representative in Washington, William Wiseman, to solidify an Anglo-American alliance of necessity.27 By smoothing ruffled feathers and allowing American leaders to deal with one of their own kind, this covert diplomacy helped Britain influence American government policy. Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones further suggests in American Espionage that Wiseman was so adept at his role, he allowed Britain to manipulate America’s own intelligence resources for British ends.28 Whether or not this was the case before America entered the war, it certainly describes Anglo-American cryptographic cooperation after 1917, where Britain preserved its pre-eminence, and used its product to influence American policy-makers.29 America’s isolationism and demobilization of a cryptographic capability together distanced it from Britain between the wars, and broke the existing AngloAmerican intelligence linkage.30 Alex Danchev’s Establishing the Anglo-American Alliance: The Second World War Diaries of Brigadier Vivian Dykes demonstrates how this all began to

INTRODUCTION 7

change after the fall of France in 1940, when Britain sought to impress American representatives (including William Donovan), and to establish the basis for more concrete ties upon America’s entry into the conflict in 1941.31 Anglo-American ties in the realm of signals intelligence (SIGINT) were particularly strong with the BRUSA (British/USA) agreement of 1943, which codified intelligence pooling and the division of resources, and which possibly set the stage for postwar American dominance in SIGINT with the alleged 1947 UK-USA pact.32 This all presumes a pre-ordained American intelligence ascendancy that smacks of being wise after the fact, however, and contrasts with the widely conceded portrait of American inexperience, and the assumption of allegedly perfidious British intelligence dominance over OSS. For example, Kermit Roosevelt’s War Report of the OSS, and Carlton S.Coon’s A North Africa Story, both accuse British intelligence of obstructing and holding back independent long-range OSS espionage.33 Nathan Miller’s Spying for America confirms the view of poor field cooperation, while Harris Smith and Bradley Smith suggest that OSS gullibility and Anglophilia allowed British intelligence to co-opt OSS to British methods, and therefore establish de facto dependence on their British tutors.34 A more nuanced insight into the Anglo-OSS intelligence relationship is provided by a British sabotage officer. Douglas Dodds-Parker notes in his memoir how in Algiers, Donovan pressed for independent US projects that would demonstrate the worth of an independent American intelligence service. Donovan suggested to Dodds-Parker that if Franklin Roosevelt thought that OSS only supported or reinforced British initiatives and projects, he would not be likely to give full support to such an imperially-tainted organization after the war. This created a conflict between Donovan’s long-term needs and plans (requiring independent US operations), and the short-term aims of the Allied high command (requiring the coordination of Allied intelligence, and so US subordination).35 Dodds-Parker thus introduces a critical, if underrated, theme in the history of Anglo-American intelligence relations during the Second World War, and in the heritage of modern American intelligence: the agenda and priorities of William Donovan relative to military imperatives, and to the competitive cooperation between OSS and British intelligence. The need to secure bureaucratic standing (as underscored by Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones’s The CIA and American Democracy) is clearly identifiable in the experience of OSS/ London. It demonstrated throughout the war the necessity for an untried intelligence organization to receive tutelage while trying to achieve independence and long-term security, all within the context of a larger alliance relationship.36 Intelligence theory suggests some concepts relevant to interpreting these elements of OSS/London’s activities. Regarding the relationship between intelligence ‘producers’ and intelligence ‘consumers’, should intelligence be expected to help guide policy directly?37 Alternatively, should intelligence instead be detached from policy-making to avoid compromising the integrity of its work?38 These questions relate to how well OSS/London served its military

8 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

and political masters, hence providing a framework for judging its relevance to America’s war effort and post-war statecraft.39 More specifically, a persistent theoretical issue involves the tension between supplying short-range current estimates (or ‘spot reports’), and providing long-range estimates. This is directly relevant to judging the significance of OSS/London’s revered R&A branch in comparison with OSS/London’s operational intelligence work.40 Perhaps even more significant to OSS/London’s history is the practicality of cooperation between an intelligence service’s component branches, and the efficacy of centralized organization.41 These points are relevant to the level of organizational efficiency within OSS/London as compared to, and influenced by, the structure of British intelligence. They moreover speak to the presumed OSS legacy of centralization. Finally, is the vital essence of intelligence the centralized production of analytical estimates, or is it intelligence as responsive servant of immediate consumer needs?42 This relates to the question of whether OSS/London’s intelligence operations were of greater significance than the work of R&A, and to the relevance of OSS/London as a whole. These themes of inquiry suggest the potential pitfalls and obstacles which threaten to complicate, and even nullify, any intelligence organization’s efforts, much less those of a novice service. Ambiguity concerning function; ambivalence from, and misuse by, superiors; and the simple circumstances confronting a given organization are all the stock in trade of modern intelligence. The manner in which OSS/London functioned internally, with the British, and within the context of Anglo-American relations can thus be interpreted in light of these theoretical questions. It is in this sense that OSS/London can serve as a case study which tests theories about the ideal practice of the ‘craft of intelligence’ in relation to the realities of historical experience and power politics.43 Undertaking such a case study is facilitated by the extensive availability of OSS records, unprecedented for an intelligence agency. Held at the US National Archives and Records Administration in Washington, DC, the 6,000-cubic-foot OSS archive is deposited in Record Group 226, 3,000 cubic feet of which were accessible when research was conducted between June 1992 and March 1993. RG 226 is divided into over 110 Entries, the most significant of which regarding OSS/London include: Entry 91 (OSS/London War Diary); Entry 92 (Central Files); Entry 99 (records gathered by the OSS History Office); Entry 180 (Director OSS files); and Entries 115, 148, and 190 (Field Files). The superiority of contemporaneous documentation over self-serving memoirs and decades-old recollections is obvious. Extensive correspondence, memoranda, reports, directives, and cables allow a detailed reconstruction of the key developments within this crucial OSS outpost, and equally significant, an understanding of developments and information relating to British intelligence. OSS/London’s ‘War Diary’, while blatantly geared toward proselytizing for a post-war intelligence agency, is nevertheless useful for contemporary analyses and chronologies of events. RG 226 is also supplemented by Record Group 263,

INTRODUCTION 9

Records of the Central Intelligence Agency. This material includes the Thomas Troy Papers, containing many records used in preparation of his in-house CIA history Donovan and the CIA, and two other rival CIA histories by Arthur B. Darling and Ludwell Montague. Also of some use were the William J. Donovan Papers at the US Army Military History Institute in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Although this collection is badly organized and difficult to use, it offers some important individual documents, especially concerning British intelligence. Uncovering intelligence documents from British records at the Public Record Office, Kew is a more problematic exercise in light of traditional British reluctance to acknowledge, let alone document, the work of its secret services. Luck and thoroughness are necessary to collect relevant records buried in the various Cabinet, War Office, Air Ministry, and Foreign Office record classes. Nevertheless, a considerable amount of material can still be discovered that illustrates key aspects of the British intelligence community, and its relationship with American intelligence. Despite the best efforts of departmental record ‘weeders’, important facts can slip through. As one British officer attached to the War Office Historical Section noted about some military records in 1959, [t]he trouble is that they were never properly screened and one often finds really ‘hot’ documents tucked away in what would appear to be a completely innocuous file. The best example of this was the finding of Sir Winston Churchill’s personal opinion of the American Admiral [Ernest J.] King in a very ‘dull’ Q[uartermaster] file.44 Churchill was himself keen to ensure that British Secret Service records were kept from premature release. After learning that a bomb hit on the Ministry of Transport’s archives had scattered ‘a vast mass’ of driving licences, he wrote the Chief of the Secret Service to say that he had ‘no doubt that all your papers are in absolute bombproof security, but if not, they should be put there as soon as possible’.45 Finding intelligence documents in British archives is thus the historical profession’s own version of the ‘Great Game’, but not one without its rewards. The fruits of this paperchase are organized as follows: Chapter 1 surveys the British intelligence community with particular reference to how its fragmentation and method of direction set the context for OSS/London’s own evolution, and thereby shaped that portion of the Anglo-American intelligence relationship. Chapter 2 illustrates how significant this phenomenon proved to be for the London mission’s establishment under the aegis of the Coordinator of Information before it gave way to OSS. This chapter also underscores the mission’s bureaucratic insecurity, the power wielded by the American military over its prospects, and the primacy of fragmentation over theoretical centralization. The remaining chapters survey the mission’s component branches and the work done in connection with British services. Chapter 3 covers how OSS/

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London evolved to participate in functionally integrated espionage and sabotage operations with the British services leading up to the 1944 invasion of Normandy. The importance of military imperatives and British support for OSS efforts together counter the mythology of British manipulation of their American colleagues, and demonstrate how military influence and British pragmatism compensated for OSS/London’s minimal coordination. Chapter 4 examines OSS/ London’s R&A branch, long considered a jewel within a major innovation credited to OSS, namely the marriage of scholarly analysis to intelligence production. This chapter takes a sceptical view of the idea that this branch helped validate a particular ‘American style’ in intelligence that was duly perpetuated in the CIA.46 Not only was R&A not particularly unique given British efforts in this arena, but it was not very successful in carving a niche within the AngloAmerican intelligence community in support of military operations. R&A’s targeting analysis for Allied strategic bombing in Europe has nonetheless been presumed a major success in applying OSS resources to military operations. Chapter 5 offers a critical case study of this R&A/London effort, and besides demonstrating the flaws in its work and the myth of its empirical superiority, it highlights the inherent dangers of intelligence manipulating policy decisions. It also underscores the extent to which R&A work demonstrated egotism over substance. This is reinforced by the chapter’s further analysis of how R&A isolated itself from truly effective intelligence processing with its OSS colleagues in contrast with proven British methods. Chapter 6 returns to the realm of operational intelligence with an analysis of the penetration of Germany by OSS espionage. This survey demonstrates the only significant example of semi-centralized, coordinated intelligence work by OSS/London, and concludes that this was a successful application of OSS assets in support of military operations where British intelligence was unable to take the lead. It also shows how this example of American operational independence finally grew out of an exploitation of its inherent capabilities rather than any manipulation by the British. Chapter 7 focuses on OSS work in the footsteps of its British colleagues in counter-intelligence and propaganda. It contrasts the relative effectiveness of these intelligence sub-disciplines, and shows how virtual fusion with the British nullified the ostensible centralization of OSS/ London, albeit with different results. Chapter 8 then surveys the fate of OSS/London in the post-war world. Despite OSS giving way to the Strategic Services Unit, the London mission performed a vital role in the Anglo-American relationship during the transition to cold war. The chapter illuminates how British intelligence relied on its partnership with OSS/London’s remnants as Britain found itself in dire strategic straits, and how the preservation of this London rump formed a nucleus of America’s post-war intelligence capability. It thus demonstrates how crucial the intelligence dimension had become to the overall Anglo-American relationship, and to the maturation of America as a world power.

INTRODUCTION 11

These chapters together show the stresses and strains of fate and chance on OSS/London; the defining role of modern-day sovereigns on modern intelligence bureaucracies; and the efforts of many British and American desperate men in a necessary relationship. OSS/London’s experiences thus provide a foundation for drawing lessons about intelligence work in general. They also contribute to the scholarly understanding of a unique element within American statecraft, and its role in one of the more critical alliances formed in modern international history. NOTES 1. Alfred C.Maurer et al., ‘General Introduction’, p. 1, and Alfred C.Maurer et al., ‘Conclusion’, p. 354, both in Alfred C.Maurer et al. (eds), Intelligence: Policy and Process (Boulder: Westview Press, 1985); see also Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study in World Politics (London: Macmillan, 1977), pp. 106–7; Martin Wight, Power Politics, Hedley Bull and Carston Holbraad (eds) (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1978), pp. 29, 100–4, 116–17, 120; cf. Charles W.Yost, The Conduct and Misconduct of Foreign Affairs (New York: Random House, 1972), pp. 194–225, for an idealistic dissent from such conceptions. 2. On intelligence exchanges with the Russians, see Bradley F.Smith, Sharing Secrets with Stalin: How the Allies Traded Intelligence, 1941–1945 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1996). 3. Representative examples are Christopher Andrew, Secret Service: The Making of the British Intelligence Community (London: Heinemann, 1985); Wesley K.Wark, The Ultimate Enemy: British Intelligence and Nazi Germany, 1933–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986); see also Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones, ‘American Intelligence: A Spur to Historical Genius?’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 2 (April 1988), pp. 332–7. 4. Robertson’s view discussed in Abram N.Shulsky, Silent Warfare: Understanding the World of Intelligence (Washington: Brassey’s, 1991), p. 181; Roy Godson, ‘Intelligence: an American View’, in Kenneth G.Robertson (ed.), British and American Approaches to Intelligence (London: Macmillan, 1987), pp. 3–36; Sherman Kent, Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1949, 1966); D.C.Watt, ‘Intelligence Studies: The Emergence of the British School’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 2 (April 1988), pp. 338–9; see also D.C.Watt, ‘Intelligence and the Historian: A Comment on John Gaddis’s “Intelligence, Espionage and Cold War Origins’”, Diplomatic History 14, 2 (Spring 1990), pp. 199–204; Michael Herman, Intelligence Power in Peace and War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 5. Christopher Andrew and David Dilks, ‘Introduction’, in Christopher Andrew and David Dilks (eds), The Missing Dimension: Governments and Intelligence Communities in the Twentieth Century (London: Macmillan, 1984), p. 6. 6. For a description of this conference and its papers, see Nelson MacPherson, ‘Conference Report’, Intelligence and National Security 7, 4 (October 1992), pp. 513–15. 7. Eduard Mark, ‘The OSS in Romania, 1944–45: An Intelligence Operation of the Early Cold War’, Intelligence and National Security 9, 2 (April 1994), pp. 320–44;

12 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

8.

9.

10.

11.

12. 13.

14. 15. 16.

17.

18.

Maochun Yu, OSS in China: Prelude to Cold War (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996). Richard J.Aldrich, Intelligence and the War Against Japan: Britain, America and the Politics of Secret Service (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000); see also Richard J. Aldrich, ‘American Intelligence and the British Raj: The OSS, the SSU and India, 1942–1947’, in Martin S.Alexander (ed.), Knowing Your Friends: Intelligence Inside Alliances and Coalitions from 1914 to the Cold War (London: Frank Cass, 1998), pp. 132–64. Jay Jakub, Spies and Saboteurs: Anglo-American Collaboration and Rivalry in Human Intelligence Collection and Special Operations, 1940–45 (London: Macmillan, 1999). David Reynolds, The Creation of the Anglo-American Alliance, 1937–41: A Study in Competitive Co-operation (London: Europa, 1981); see also William Roger Louis, Imperialism at Bay, 1941–1945: The United States and the Decolonization of the British Empire (Oxford: Clarendon, 1977). Shulsky, Silent, pp. 177–9; see Bull, Anarchical, pp. 185–6, 208, 219; see also Michael I.Handel, ‘The Politics of Intelligence’, Intelligence and National Security 2, 4 (October 1987), p. 38. See Jakub, Spies, pp. 185–97, for his analysis of independence/dependence at the level of OSS-British intelligence in various theatres. Representative works on the subject include Reynolds, Creation; James R.Leutze, Bargaining for Supremacy: Anglo-American Naval Collaboration, 1937–1941 (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1977); Robert M.Hathaway, Ambiguous Partnership: Britain and America, 1944–1947 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1981); Christopher Thorne, Allies of a Kind: The United States, Britain, and the War against Japan, 1941–1945 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978); Keith Sainsbury, Turning Point: Roosevelt, Stalin, Churchill, and Chiang-KaiShek, 1943: The Moscow, Cairo, and Teheran Conferences (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985); more superficial treatments are John S.D.Eisenhower, Allies: Pearl Harbor to D-Day (Garden City: Doubleday, 1982); Joseph P.Lash, Roosevelt and Churchill, 1939–1941: The Partnership That Saved the West (New York: W.W. Norton, 1976). Warren F.Kimball, The Most Unsordid Act: Lend-lease, 1939–1941 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1977), p. 241. Hathaway, Ambiguous, pp. 5–6, 16–53, 308, 316–17. See C.A.MacDonald, The United States, Britain and Appeasement, 1936–1939 (London: Macmillan, 1980), pp. 180–1; Alex Danchev, Very Special Relationship: Field-Marshal Sir John Dill and the Anglo-American Alliance, 1941–44 (London: Brassey’s, 1986), pp. 14, 33, 41–2, 79. A.C.Turner, The Unique Partnership: Britain and the United States (New York: Pegasus, 1971), pp. 67, 86–9, 96–7; see also Robert Dallek, Franklin D.Roosevelt and American Foreign Policy, 1932–1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979); Herbert Feis, Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin: The War They Waged and the Peace They Sought (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957); Charles L.Mee, Meeting at Potsdam (New York: M.Evans, 1975). See Max Beloff, The Special Relationship: an Anglo-American Myth’, in Martin Gilbert (ed.), A Century of Conflict, 1850–1950: Essays for A.J.P.Taylor (New York: Atheneum, 1967), pp. 148–71; D.Cameron Watt, Succeeding John Bull:

INTRODUCTION 13

19.

20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25.

26.

27.

28. 29.

30. 31. 32.

33.

America in Britain’s Place, 1900–1975 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 90–5. See Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones, American Espionage: From Secret Service to CIA (New York: The Free Press, 1977); David Kahn, The Codebreakers: The Story of Secret Writing (New York: Macmillan, 1967); Ronald Clark, The Man Who Broke ‘Purple’: The Life and Times of the World’s Greatest Cryptologist, Colonel William Friedman (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1977); Ronald Lewin, The Other Ultra (London: Hutchinson, 1982); Thomas Parrish, The Ultra Americans: The US Role in Breaking the Nazi Codes (New York: Stein and Day, 1986). Stephen E.Ambrose, with Richard I.Immerman, Ike’s Spies: Eisenhower and the Espionage Establishment (Garden City: Doubleday, 1981). Corey Ford, Donovan of OSS (Boston: Little, Brown, 1970). Anthony Cave Brown, The Last Hero: Wild Bill Donovan (New York: Times Books, 1982); Thomas Troy, Donovan and the CIA: A History of the Central Intelligence Agency (Frederick: University Publications of America, 2nd printing, 1984). R.Harris Smith, OSS: The Secret History of America’s First Central Intelligence Agency (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972). Bradley F.Smith, The Shadow Warriors: OSS and the Origins of the CIA (London: Andre Deutsch, 1983). William Casey, The Secret War Against Hitler (Washington: Regnery Gateway, 1988); Robin Winks, Cloak and Gown: Scholars in the Secret War, 1939–1961 (New York: William Morrow, 1987); Barry Katz, Foreign Intelligence: Research and Analysis in the Office of Strategic Services, 1942–1945 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989). F.H.Hinsley et al., British Intelligence in the Second World War: Its Influence on Strategy and Operations, Vol. II (London: HMSO, 1991), pp. 52–4; M.R.D.Foot, SOE in France (London: HMSO, 1966), pp. 31–2, 180–349; B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 168–76, 184–7; R.H.Smith, OSS, pp. 33–4. W.B.Fowler, British-American Relations, 1917–1918: The Role of Sir William Wiseman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969); Arthur Willert, The Road to Safety: A Study in Anglo-American Relations (London: Derek Verschoyle, 1952). Jeffreys-Jones, Espionage, pp. 45, 73–4. Ibid., pp. 249–50; Patrick Beesly, Room 40: British Naval Intelligence, 1914–18 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1982); Herbert O.Yardley, The American Black Chamber (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1931). See Yardley, Black, passim, and Wayne S.Cole, Roosevelt and the Isolationists, 1932–45 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983), pp. 8–9, 163–222. Alex Danchev (ed.) Establishing the Anglo-American Alliance: The Second World War Diaries of Brigadier Vivian Dykes (London: Brassey’s, 1990). See James Bamford, The Puzzle Palace: A Report on America’s Most Secret Agency (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1982), and Jeffrey T.Richelson and Desmond Ball, The Ties That Bind: Intelligence Cooperation between the UKUSA Countries (Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1985); cf. Bradley F.Smith, The Ultra-Magic Deals and the Most Secret Special Relationship, 1940–1946 (Novato: Presidio, 1993). Kermit Roosevelt, The War Report of the OSS, Vol. II: The Overseas Targets (New York: Walker, 1976); Carlton S.Coon, A North Africa Story: The Anthropologist as OSS Agent, 1941–1943 (Ipswich: Gambit, 1980).

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34. Nathan Miller, Spying for America: The Hidden History of US Intelligence (New York: Paragon House, 1989); R.H.Smith, OSS, pp. 33–4; B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 168–76, 184–7. 35. Douglas Dodds-Parker, Setting Europe Ablaze: Some Account of Ungentlemanly Warfare (Windlesham: Springwood Books, 1983), pp. 124–5, 179–80; see the discussion of this point in the review by Nelson MacPherson of Max Corvo, The OSS in Italy, 1942–1945: A Personal Memoir, in Intelligence and National Security 6, 3 (July 1991), p. 646; a recent survey of presidential use of American intelligence is Christopher Andrew’s For the President’s Eyes Only: Secret Intelligence and the American Presidency from Washington to Bush (New York: Harper Collins, 1995), with pp. 123–48 detailing Roosevelt’s relationship with intelligence. 36. Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones, The CIA and American Democracy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), pp. 248, 250; see Jakub, Spies, pp. 196–7. 37. As suggested by H.H.Ransom, The Intelligence Establishment (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1970), pp. 5–7; Kenneth Strong, Men of Intelligence: A Study of the Roles and Decisions of Chiefs of Intelligence from World War II to the Present Day (London: Cassell, 1970), p. 131; Walter Laqueur, A World of Secrets: The Uses and Limits of Intelligence (New York: Basic Books, 1985), pp. 11–12, 232, 340–6. 38. As suggested by Kent, Strategic, pp. 78–103, 115, 133–6, 180–3, 195–201; see also Arthur S.Hulnick, ‘The Intelligence Produce-Policy Consumer Linkage: A Theoretical Approach’, Intelligence and National Security 1, 2 (May 1986), pp. 212–33, and Herman, Intelligence, pp. 106–7, 128–9, 140–3, 257–9. 39. Cf. Roger Hilsman, Strategic Intelligence and National Decisions (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1956), pp. 37, 43, 84, 118, 182; and Bruce D.Berkowitz and Allan E. Goodman, Strategic Intelligence for American National Security (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989), pp. ix–x, 22–7, 37, 109, 136, 173–5, 180–1, 183; these sources argue that intelligence cannot function properly if isolated from policy-making, and must avoid being ignored as much as being intellectually compromised; the relevance of intelligence thus stems from how effectively this balance is struck. 40. See T.L.Hughes, The Fate of Facts in a World of Men: Foreign Policy and Intelligence Making (New York: Foreign Policy Association, 1976); Ralph Bennett, ‘Intelligence and Strategy in World War II’, in Robertson (ed.), British, pp. 130–3; Herman, Intelligence, pp. 100–12, 257–79. 41. See Strong, Men, pp. 95, 168; Herman, Intelligence, pp. 16–35. 42. See Strong, Men, p. 151; Shulsky, Silent, chs 3, 6–7; Andrew and Dilks, Missing, p. 13. 43. See Allen Dulles, The Craft of Intelligence (New York: Harper and Row, 1963), pp. 4, 55–64, 170. 44. Brigadier H.B.Latham, Historical Section, War Office to Sir Edward Hale, Historical Branch, Cabinet Office, 19 August 1959, CAB 103/319, Public Record Office, Kew [hereafter PRO]. 45. Churchill to ‘C’, PM’s Personal Minute, 10 July 1944, PREM 4/68/6A, PRO; prewar Secret Service records had at least been moved out of London to the British cipher-breaking station at Bletchley Park, Buckinghamshire in 1939; see R.VJones,

INTRODUCTION 15

‘A Sidelight on Bletchley, 1942’, Intelligence and National Security 9, 1 (January 1994), p. 1. 46. The ‘American style’ idea was articulated by R&A veteran Professor Elspeth Davies Rostow at the 1991 OSS conference in Washington, cited in MacPherson, ‘Conference Report’, p. 515.

1 The British Intelligence Community: Setting the Tone for OSS

Many OSS members believed unquestioningly in Britain’s intelligence preeminence, and this article of faith has long permeated OSS historiography. The Americans routinely attributed their successful indoctrination into the black arts of intelligence to their special relationship with British spy masters whose professional lineage stretched in an unbroken line from Elizabethan times.1 Their British counterparts no doubt encouraged such a myth; but while British experience indeed proved critical for the development of modern American intelligence, its worth was all the more impressive given the British services’ eccentric antecedents, their impoverishment, their uneven record, and their often hard-pressed operational fortunes. The highly personalized and stubbornly entrenched system of intelligence administration that emerged in wartime was also significant, since this resolutely unchanging arrangement served to mould the dominant structures and rivalries of the tightly knit Anglo-American intelligence bureaucracies. The British example thereby ensured that OSS evolved even more in the likeness of the British intelligence community than has been commonly understood. Although various court officials had performed intelligence functions for their sovereigns throughout British history, the creation of a professional intelligence establishment within the machinery of executive government was a strictly modern phenomenon. Not until the post-Waterloo period were efforts made within the War Office to formalize intelligence gathering in support of military operations. The Royal Navy followed suit in the mid-1880s, while domestic surveillance developed under the Special Branch during that same period.2 An institutionalized Secret Service finally began to evolve in the late nineteenth century through the collaboration of the Foreign Office and the War Office in utilizing secret service funds to deploy a limited network of agents on the continent and in imperial troublespots.3 The clandestine efforts of this ad hoc system were, however, given an unexpected jolt by the efforts of pulp fiction writers determined to dramatize Britain’s strategic vulnerability. Capitalizing on the growing British fear of invasion by continental powers between 1900 and 1909, authors such as William Le Queux, E. Phillips Oppenheim, and Erskine Childers popularized tales of German invasion plans, the vanguard of which (according to Le Queux in particular) embodied hordes of Teutonic spies. These

THE BRITISH INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY 17

villains were stymied in the books by a fictional British Secret Service wholly of their authors’ imaginations.4 Harmless in themselves, these yarns began to take hold in the minds of the public and establishment alike, and fanned by the press, escalated into a wholesale spy mania. Where there are suspected spies, there is a cry for counter-measures. Since the organs of the War Office and the Admiralty were not up to the task, there was strong lobbying from within these departments to create the means to verify and confound the knavish tricks of the continental secret services. A sub-committee on foreign espionage of the Committee of Imperial Defence, swayed as much by the fictional spy scenarios as anything else, eventually concurred with that view in 1909. Their report led directly to the establishment of Britain’s first Secret Service Bureau in that same year, modified in 1910 to consist of a War Office home counter-espionage department, and a foreign espionage department under control of the Admiralty.5 Upon the outbreak of the First World War, the Home Section became an element of the newly formed Directorate of Military Intelligence within the War Office in 1916, and was styled as MI5. The Foreign Section also joined the War Office at that time as MI1(c), but control and funding of the department passed to the Foreign Office by the end of the conflict. The exclusive inter-service responsibility of the Foreign Section for espionage, known by then as either the Secret Service, the Special (or Secret) Intelligence Service (SIS), or by its nominal War Office military intelligence cover title of MI6, was only formalized in 1921. The service accordingly reported its information without interpretation to the Foreign Office, was supervised by the Foreign Office, and its espionage system was not to prejudice by association, or supplant, the FO’s political reporting.6 The emphasis with the return to peace was obviously on bureaucratic control. Less attention was paid to the actual execution of such control in terms of establishing operational priorities, and in deploying the limited resources of SIS, especially regarding direction from the armed services. This shortcoming would only be exacerbated throughout the period preceding the Second World War. The lack of funding was a prime reason for this, a problem shared with the defence establishment in general. The SIS budget was reduced from £240,000 in 1919 to £90,000 in 1922, and SIS stressed in 1935 that the lack of finances had, for example, forced the complete abandonment of operations ‘in several countries’ from which information could have been gathered on Italy relevant to the Abyssinian crisis. This state of affairs persisted, with only a small temporary budget increase in the spring of 1938, and led to the armed services complaining about the poor, often non-existent, state of SIS information on German intentions and rearmament.7 It is thus easy to understand why the Official Historians of British intelligence entitled the section of their work dealing with the wartime period from its out-break in September 1939 to the winter of 1941 ‘In the Dark’. The British Secret Service was no all-seeing eye, no invincible collection of cunning experts practicing their craft in the ruthless spirit of raison d’état. Two decades of relative neglect and lack of direction were offset only by a late realization of the need to mobilize intelligence for potential war in the manner of

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the armed services. The same process of personnel expansion and enhanced operational control in a transition from peacetime structures to those of war had to be made by the SIS.8 One of the most pressing requirements with the onset of war was to develop an effective means of executive control and direction over intelligence. Some progress had been made on this front through the establishment within the Chiefs of Staff organization of a Joint Intelligence Sub-Committee in 1936. It was intended that the JIC would aid the service heads and assist the Joint (i.e., triservice) Planning Staff by acting as a channel for the dissemination of relevant intelligence in support of higher planning. Actual practice was another matter because the JIC consisted merely of service intelligence deputies who showed little initiative in providing appreciations, and who were seldom consulted by the JPS. There was, curiously, no SIS representation. It became clear by June 1939 that closer integration was required of the service intelligence departments, and that Foreign Office political input would have to be incorporated into the JIC as well. The Sub-Committee from then onwards consisted of the service intelligence chiefs or their deputies, and a Counsellor from the FO who also served in the capacity of unofficial chairman. Still without SIS participation, the JIC was now formally expected to assess and co-ordinate intelligence for the Chiefs of Staff in order to effect the most sound basis for Government policy, and to contribute toward improving the ‘efficient working of the intelligence organization of the country as a whole’.9 This essentially amounted to a mandate to produce operational intelligence appreciations for the War Cabinet and COS, and it was a nominal first for British intelligence. While the JIC was best suited to compare and assess the widest range of information, it still must be noted that the JIC only centralized strategic assessments, not the management of the intelligence system as a whole. Even this innovation was problematic until the creation of a Joint Intelligence Staff in May 1941 to ease the committee’s debilitating workload by drafting basic appreciations for JIC consideration and approval. By also serving as a ‘corporate memory’ for the British intelligence system, the JIS established a firm foundation for the systematic influence of intelligence on British strategy. This in itself was a laudable accomplishment, but it nevertheless failed to resolve the thorny issue of how best to coordinate the component clandestine services within the intelligence system. It was as yet unclear how the competing interests of the various departments—Foreign Office, War Office, Admiralty—could be equably balanced, and it was assumed that intelligence was best left in the hands of the various departmental masters.10 One consequence of the ongoing fractured direction of intelligence operations was revealed through the convoluted, nearly arthritic, attempt to organize clandestine sabotage before the German onslaught of May 1940. A French General of the Secretariat General de la Défense Nationale contacted the British Military Secretary to the War Cabinet, Major-General Hastings Ismay, on 26 January 1940 with a proposal for a combined sabotage programme against German railways and other lines of communication. Ismay in turn forwarded the

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scheme to the Director of Military Intelligence, Major-General F.G.BeaumontNesbitt, who in early February passed it on to Military Intelligence Research (MIR), that element of the General Staff designated to plan such activities.11 Their conclusions, communicated to Ismay by Beaumont-Nesbitt on 3 March, were that the French plan had merit if widely executed over some time with a thorough organization. This would obviously require a degree of inter-service and inter-Allied coordination that in the DMI’s view still left something to be desired. While MIR studied sabotage and guerrilla warfare, SIS was expected to execute any specific projects. SIS tended to do this with no reference to the military, which the DMI considered ‘fundamentally wrong’. The Foreign Office and the three service intelligence chiefs had met in the preceding weeks to fashion greater coordination, but more needed to be done. Beaumont-Nesbitt suggested that all sabotage projects be submitted to a special all-service committee under the control of, and answering to, the JIC. The JIC would then decide on further action, including delegating responsibility for execution to the military services or SIS. The DMI was convinced that even this ponderous set-up, dictated by the circumstances of intelligence organization, ‘would be an improvement on our present haphazard methods’. Coordination with the French would see their utilization of a similar mechanism, and both would then report to an ‘inter-Allied JIC’ for the execution of a combined programme.12 Ismay replied two days later that while the DMI’s proposals were ‘thorough’, a less formal but equally effective alternative would be to make the War Office responsible for all such projects, and that they could then devise ‘the necessary arrangements’ for the requisite harmonized effort. How exactly the War Office was supposed to obtain the cooperation of the other competing bodies and departments went unsaid. Subordinating such operations to the Army made sense, but only if the DMI had sufficient authority, which he did not.13 The DMI’s suggestion therefore found favour with the JIC, which agreed to the formation of an Inter-Services Project Board. Both Ismay and Sir Edward Bridges, the Secretary to the War Cabinet, emphasized JIC control of the board.14 The First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, was not impressed by this development. He commented that the ISPB would ‘be only another piece of clogging machinery set up in the path of action’. Churchill ‘understood that these matters were primarily the care of Colonel Menzies who has representatives of the three [service] Intelligence Departments either in, or in close contact with his organization’, that being SIS.15 As Deputy to the preceding Chief of the Secret Service (CSS, or by traditional appellation, simply ‘C’), Menzies had succeeded to the leadership of SIS in November 1939, and the First Lord wanted the ISPB blueprint submitted by ‘C’ and the JIC for Cabinet approval.16 Churchill evidently soon relented, with the proviso that the suggested board be ‘under Lord Hankey [Minister without Portfolio], who with Colonel Menzies ought to be the channel through which all such projects pass. To have it as a separate piece of mechanism would be at once redundant and conflicting.’17 Hankey himself had not been given time for ‘a considered opinion’ on the matter,

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although he was inclined to feel ‘that the proposed board was on much too low a level and that coordination in these matters ought to be carried out on a very high level so that approval for projects could be given without the full War Cabinet being consulted’. He was nevertheless prepared to concur with Churchill.18 The JIC set out their formal proposition on the subject to the War Cabinet on 26 April. It emphasized the increasingly inter-departmental nature of sub rosa operations, particularly of those ‘irregular’ actions in support of the Government’s economic warfare strategy designed to blockade Germany into capitulation. The ISPB was therefore intended as ‘an advisory and consultative body’ made up of ‘comparatively junior officers’ (Lieutenant-Colonel grade) from SIS and the service departments, and to be distinct from the JIC in order to avoid the apparently disquieting spectre of ‘unnecessary formalities’.19 This document was considered and accepted by the Deputy Chiefs of Staff on 29 April 1940, just in time to be rendered largely irrelevant by the decisive German offensive that began on 10 May.20 The dispersion of intelligence functions and bodies, the limitations of the JIC, and the Secret Service’s detachment therefrom had obviously served as considerable stumbling blocks in the attempt to fashion a timely and effective means of directing sabotage activities. British intelligence direction on the eve of disaster was undeniably diffuse and impracticable.21 With a Shakespearean sense of timing, Churchill succeeded to the premiership on the day of the German assault as a result of the fall of Neville Chamberlain after the April debacle in Norway. Churchill came to the premiership with a long history of dealings with intelligence throughout his Cabinet service. As Secretary of War in 1920, he had even recommended that MI5 and SIS be combined as an economy measure. This proposal was not accepted, and Churchill himself reflected that the marriage of ‘distinct and very secretive organizations…cannot be brought about in a hurry having regard to the peculiar nature of the matters dealt with and the importance of not disturbing the relationships which exist’.22 The Prime Minister did back a Chiefs of Staff review of the intelligence system soon after taking power, and he pushed for the elementary measure of placing SIS, MI5, and the Ministry of Economic Warfare in the JIC at the latter’s arrangement on 24 May. (During a review of the secret services by Lord Hankey the preceding March SIS had actually resisted joining the JIC in order to ‘preserve the “historic” aloofness of the SIS from the Whitehall committee system’, but Churchill’s decision now overrode such considerations.) Despite all of this, he was nevertheless disinclined to pursue more radical measures.23 Churchill’s reticence was evidently married to an impatience with the Secret Service’s performance to date. He minuted his obvious discontent to Ismay, for Menzies, on 5 August as well: I am not satisfied with the volume or quality of information received from both the occupied and the unoccupied areas of France. We seem to be as much cut off from these territories as from Germany. I do not wish such reports as are received to be sift ed and digested by the various intelligence

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authorities. For the present Major Morton will inspect them for me and submit what he considers of major interest. He is to see everything and submit authentic documents for me in their original form. Further I await proposals from Colonel Menzies for improving and extending our information about France and for keeping a continued flow of agents moving to and fro. For this purpose Naval facilities can if necessary be invoked. So far as the Vichy Government is concerned it is not creditable that we have so little information. To what extent are Americans, Swiss and Spanish agents being used [sic]. Colonel Menzies should submit a report on what he has done and is proposing to do.24 That report must have made grim reading, as much for Churchill as for Menzies. Since Churchill would make his famous tribute to the ‘few’ of the Battle of Britain on 20 August, it had to be just after that speech that ‘a somewhat cruel jest was made at the expense of [the] Intelligence Service’. Paraphrasing Churchill’s oratory, ‘it was said of the Secret Intelligence Service that never in the whole sum of human experience had so little been known by so many about so much’. This portrait, however, was a half truth. The demand for intelligence was greater and covered a wider field than ever in 1914/18. And the possibility of obtaining it was much less. The occupation of so much of Europe by the Nazis and their ruthless and terrorizing control had made the normal methods of obtaining intelligence almost impractical. Agent after agent was ‘liquidated’ or gave up an impossibly difficult and dangerous task, and that great source of information—the neutral press—had almost disappeared. Restricted in their usual sources of supply the Intelligence Branches of all three services and other departments directly concerned with the war turned to long distance high altitude photography as a ready solution to their troubles.25 Save for the joke, this assessment of SIS fortunes could have been that written by Menzies for Churchill. It was certainly true that MI6 networks had been completely destroyed in the wake of the German triumph in France and the Low Countries, and that aerial photographic reconnaissance (PR) was of critical importance in filling some of the intelligence void after Dunkirk. Photo reconnaissance was, however, only part of the repertoire still available to ‘C’. Another vital source controlled by SIS was understandably omitted from the RAF narrative—that being signals intelligence.26 Britain achieved great success in the sphere of code- and cipherbreaking during the First World War through the Royal Navy’s cryptanalysis unit, known after its location within the Admiralty Building as Room 40. The War Office equivalent was MI1(b), and both groups were amalgamated under Admiralty authority in 1919 as the Government Code and Cipher School (GC&CS). Placed under Foreign Office administration alongside SIS in 1922, it was subsequently

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incorporated under ‘C’s’ control (although separate from SIS) in 1923. The SIS head from then onwards bore the official title of ‘Chief of the Secret Service and Director of GC&CS’, and after 1925 both services were headquartered in neighbouring offices within the building at 55 Broadway, London. The code and cipher establishment’s specific operations were executed by its own administrative Head while subordinated bureaucratically to ‘C’. SIS therefore enjoyed effective responsibility for the material produced from such activities, generically known as signals intelligence (SIGINT).27 This was of paramount importance by the time of Churchill’s accession. The GC&CS experts at Bletchley Park, Buckinghamshire, were fortuitously able to penetrate the various keys of Germany’s main cipher system, which utilized the ‘Enigma’ machine. Enigma was first broken regularly by Polish cryptographers in the years 1934–38 by means of a reconstructed device, and by an electromechanical instrument designed to scan the multitudes of letter combinations known as a ‘cryptographic bombe’. The Poles subsequently informed the French and British cipher departments about the secret in July 1939 since they needed help penetrating the more complex Enigma system adopted by the Germans at the end of 1938. When the Poles fled to France after their country’s defeat, the French took up the mantle. Upon the French defeat in 1940, GC&CS resources and manpower came to the fore, and by 22 May of that year, one major German Air Force key began to be read regularly with the British version of the bombe technology. The German Naval key would follow in 1941, and the Army’s in 1942.28 Known to a strictly controlled minority within Whitehall and the services, the contents of these decrypted signals became the backbone of British intelligence survival. After being unscrambled and translated by GC&CS (renamed by 1942 as the Government Communications Headquarters, or GCHQ), the resultant verbatim data were fashioned into signals that accurately summarized the information for use by British commanders. These signals were accorded the highest degree of security, and thus eventually described as TOP SECRET— ULTRA, or often more succinctly as ULTRA material. Coming straight from the proverbial horse’s mouth, these signals gave the British an unprecedented ability to examine and use the most reliable (although not flawless) single source of intelligence available on the enemy.29 Menzies’s August report to Churchill could not bask in that success, however. It could not rely upon ULTRA to obscure the lack of agents on the continent, nor the undeniable want of effective, realistic operational plans ready for execution any time in the near future. About all ‘C’ could do at the Prime Minister’s behest was offer up ULTRA signals, often personally, for Churchill’s attention from at least September 1940 onwards. It is suggested in the Official History that this state of affairs ‘was to have one beneficial result. It produced a close relationship between “C” and the Prime Minister, whose knowledge of the products of “C’s” organization, particularly of GC and CS, proved valuable when strategic decisions and intelligence priorities were being debated’.30 A less contented conclusion can

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nevertheless be drawn regarding ‘C’s’ position, and Churchill’s knowledge of SIS. In demanding receipt of regular ULTRA summaries, the PM was in fact able to cut out his professional intelligence officials, and to manage the intelligence war more and more through personal direction.31 ‘C’ himself ‘admitted’ (to the Americans at least) that this particular direct relationship was ‘probably inadvisable. It is believed that intelligence, regardless of its source, should be fully collated with all available information and processed through regular military or political channels to Mr Churchill as Minister of Defence or as Prime Minister.’32 Since SIS had little to offer besides the fruits of what were really the labours of GCHQ, the poverty of the Secret Service’s own contributions to the war effort could hardly have escaped the Prime Minister’s notice, or enhanced his respect for the capabilities of SIS.33 The excision and independent reincarnation of the service’s sabotage arm in July was itself an obvious vote of non-confidence in the ability of SIS (and the War Office) to wage a secret campaign to Churchill’s satisfaction. The Prime Minister rapidly abandoned his earlier insistence (as First Lord) that Menzies control sabotage activities through Section D of SIS, perhaps because of his direct knowledge of Section D’s lack-lustre performance in Norway. That section was accordingly removed without the consultation of ‘C’ and combined with the War Office’s MIR to establish the Special Operations Executive under the Minister of Economic Warfare.34 The expulsion from France had not so much ‘increased Whitehall’s interest in sabotage and subversion’ as rendered Britain largely bereft of any other conceivable means of striking at Germany; Churchill therefore readily embraced the prospect of SOE doing something to ‘set Europe ablaze’.35 What SIS had failed to do with Section D it was hoped the new service could accomplish as part of an optimistic strategy of wearing down Germany through economic warfare, aerial bombing, and amphibious raiding, culminating eventually with a thrust into Germany and a programme of SOE-orchestrated insurrection in occupied Europe. This elevation of irregular warfare was patently a classic case of making a virtue out of a necessity, and clearly at the expense of SIS. The fortunes of SIS were thus at their lowest ebb by the time Churchill was growling at Menzies for evidence of clandestine action in France. An entire section of SIS had been unceremoniously ripped out and made a separate entity, while the primary meaningful function left to SIS was the broad oversight of signals intelligence. This by itself was unlikely to prove a strong enough foundation for the Secret Service’s continued existence in its traditional form.36 Expressions of dissatisfaction with that form soon began to emanate from the highest echelons of the War Cabinet. The Labour Party leader, Clement Attlee, serving as Lord Privy Seal within the coalition government, minuted Churchill on 4 November 1940 regarding the organization of intelligence and demanded to know ‘who is responsible and how long he has been in control’. This was duly forwarded to Ismay by Churchill the next day so that a report could be made.37 The Chiefs of Staff submitted their response on 14 November, addressing Attlee’s points in sequence. An appendix outlined that the intelligence

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establishment was not actually under a single fixed authority. The COS concluded by saying that no one individual was at fault for the poor showing in intelligence, and that so far as the future is concerned, it may be urged that our whole intelligence system should be reorganised… Nevertheless, there are clearly many grave disadvantages, not only in the proposition itself but also—more particularly —in the idea of carrying it out at the present time…it seems to us very undesirable that a drastic reorganisation of this magnitude should be attempted at the moment when we are fighting for our lives.38 Attlee received his copy of the report on 24 November, and he found the logic of the COS unconvincing.39 He made his reaction clear to Churchill on the 28th. If no individual was at fault, then the very intelligence system was flawed. The COS argument that change was currently inappropriate moreover amounted to arguing ‘that because [the British were] fighting for [their] lives [they] should continue to use an inefficient instrument. It [was] precisely because [Britain was] engaged in a critical war that [they] ought to do now, late though it is, what should have been done years ago.’ Attlee therefore recommended appointing ‘one directing mind at the head of the Intelligence Service’, and coordinating military intelligence with SIS. Attlee further suggested ‘that the Cabinet should direct one individual to survey and report on the Intelligence Services. He should be a person of analytic mind, detached from all the Services—without parti pris’, such as ‘the Solicitor General or some other lawyer of high standing’.40 It so happened that the suggestion of a study of the feasibility of intelligence centralization had already been put before Churchill prior to Attlee’s response. It originated ironically enough from Churchill’s own Private Secretary brought to Downing Street from the Admiralty, Eric Seal. He had minuted Churchill on 25 July to say that intelligence coordinating was inadequate, with the JIC recently offering ‘little more than a reprint of some of the Foreign Office telegrams’, and that ‘[d]uring Mr Chamberlain’s Premiership Lord Hankey was appointed to overhaul Secret Intelligence, but his reports were not very helpful, and in fact the only recommendations he made were of a trifling character [see above, note 23]’. Seal went on to suggest that Lord Lloyd be pressed into service as an intelligence coordinator on Churchill’s behalf as Minister of Defence. Churchill dismissed this proposal by scrawling below Seal’s signature a rather trivial reason for not pursuing the matter: ‘Lord Lloyd is already fully occupied. WSC 26.VII.’41 Seal then used the COS response to Attlee as an opportunity to broach the subject again on 22 November, when he reiterated his proposal for a ‘Chief Intelligence Officer’ under Churchill, this time suggesting David Margesson.42 Combined with Attlee’s interest, Seal’s persistence briefly paid off. When A.W.R.Topham from Attlee’s office wrote Eric Seal on 7 January 1941 to enquire as to follow up on Attlee’s 28 November minute, Seal replied the same day.

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He said that Churchill had given thought to Attlee’s minute, dictating ‘a long note on the subject which he has now marked to be brought up on January 14’. Seal reminded Churchill of this note on 13 January, and informed him of Attlee’s enquiry. An undated note with no author named is attached to Seal’s 13 January reminder, and it covers intelligence coordination, Defence statistical organization and missions to North America. A series of amendments to the intelligence portion of the document, elaborating the duties and powers of the intelligence coordinator along the lines suggested by Seal are also included, but that is where the trail ends. There is no indication of official consideration. The individual responsible for collating the file holding these documents was presumably the author of the notation: ‘Nothing further on this—matter fades away.’43 Churchill’s civil/intelligence aide, Major Desmond Morton, soon delivered the next overture for intelligence centralization. Morton’s suggestions were no doubt born of his own experience of the muddled handling of intelligence within Whitehall. He wrote Ismay on 27 August 1940 to complain that he was not receiving from the service intelligence directorates the material that he had been authorized to obtain earlier that month (see above, p.23). He had received much material from SIS, the FO, and MEW; as well as the Ministry of Information, and the BBC, but nothing from the military services.44 Ismay responded two days later, saying that there had been a misunderstanding which involved confusion over Morton’s receipt of ‘Secret Service Reports’—the military services’ main source was SIS, so they had not felt it necessary to pass information to Morton.45 That point had, in fact, already been communicated to the JIC by the Admiralty and War Office intelligence departments when Churchill’s directive was first sent out, but no one had seen fit to inform either Morton or Ismay, thus delaying matters for most of a month.46 Influenced by this episode, Morton minuted his own recipe for rational intelligence management to Churchill on 20 January 1941, only one week after Seal’s last abortive communication on the subject. Morton began by noting that ‘You have already mentioned in Cabinet your desire to improve our Intelligence.’ He continued to point out that British intelligence was primarily flawed by its ‘failure to collate and appreciate’ the available information. This Morton ascribed to the overemphasis on ‘the responsibility of Directors of Intelligence Departments for organisation and gathering information. A Director of Intelligence should be responsible chiefly for appreciating information. He… [instead] must form and give opinions on matters of fact.’ Morton went on to note the too-rigid separation of intelligence from planning, and recommended as a remedy the establishment of an ‘Intelligence Executive’ (not a Chiefs of Staff Subcommittee like the JIC) composed of a Chairman and Vice-Chairman from the Ministry of Defence, and representatives from the interested services, the FO, MEW and the Colonial Office. The Executive would report to the Minister of Defence (Churchill), and be responsible for appreciating information available on overseas events. The members of the Executive would be in permanent session, with no other duties, and the Chair and his Vice would have full access

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to Cabinet and COS papers. Morton concluded by saying that such a body, ‘if it proves successful, could form the nucleus of the Central Government Intelligence Organisation’.47 Churchill did not feel moved to accept this suggestion either, since Morton’s proposals came to nothing. The same held true in October 1942, when Morton again brought up the matter, and re-submitted his minute of January 1941. Regarding Churchill’s non-receipt of an Air Ministry intelligence report, Morton said that ‘the incident serves to bring up again the question of whether the present organisation of Intelligence in general cannot be improved. I am not talking about “C” but about something of wider scope.’ He reminded Churchill of his previous minute on the subject, and attached a copy.48 Churchill merely replied to the question with some apparent disbelief about there being ‘no arrangement by which all Intelligence of the Department is brought together’, and to order Morton to ‘weed out’ telegrams ‘of special interest or importance so as not to burden [the PM] with too much’.49 General Ismay was then minuted to ensure that Churchill got a better service in intelligence telegrams, with Morton seeing them and feeding them to the PM. This procedure was marked as ‘now working’ on 23 November 1942. More tedious drone work was thus the sole result of Morton’s repeated supplications.50 The impetus to effect some sort of consolidated direction of intelligence next surfaced seriously with regard to the issue of SIS-SOE coordination. The Security Service (MI5) proffered in March 1943 that the two overseas clandestine services be combined with itself through a committee mechanism as a means of reducing damaging competitive friction between them, but Churchill personally quashed that idea. He wrote that the ‘illusions’ of permanence held by wartime departments like SOE should not be ‘encouraged’, and that he felt ‘that it would be a mistake at the present time to stir up all these pools’. ‘I do not think that the kind of Committee you propose would be fruitful’; better that the heads of MI5, SIS and SOE meet monthly with Major Morton so that ‘cases of friction could be smoothed out and common action promoted’.51 These meetings were held only twice, and the limitation of this set-up was soon made clear. In a meeting of the Defence Committee on 2 August, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, General Sir Alan Brooke, strongly pointed out in the PM’s presence that ‘a closer relationship was required not only between SOE and the Chiefs of Staff but also between SOE and SIS. Only recently the Chiefs of Staff had received through SIS information relating to the penetration by the enemy of certain Resistance Groups in France.’ Brooke went on to stress that it ‘was wrong that this important information should reach the Chiefs of Staff in this way. They should have received it from SOE themselves. He endorsed the suggestion of the Chief of the Air Staff that SOE be more closely integrated with the Chiefs of Staff organisation.’ In response, THE PRIME MINISTER emphasised the immense value to the war effort of stimulating resistance amongst the people of Europe. He recognised that

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acts of rebellion against the Germans frequently resulted in bloody reprisals, but the ‘blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church’, and the result of these incidents had been to make the Germans hated as no other race had ever been hated. There nothing must be done which would result in the falling off of this most valuable means of harassing the enemy. He agreed, however, that some closer link should be created between SOE and the organisation under the Minister of Defence. It was therefore agreed that the COS should be ‘kept continually informed of SOE activities and intentions’, and that SOE views should be expressed in person to the COS when their activities were under discussion.52 The COS followed this apparent Prime Ministerial injunction to harmonize the overseas secret services with a report on the SOE organization on 30 September. They urged forthrightly that they wanted the ‘higher control and direction’ of SOE transferred to them, ‘acting in consultation with the Foreign Office. This would be in accordance with the normal procedure for the strategical conduct of the war on the high level. It would not involve the creation of any new machinery.’ The proposal evidently did not meet with the PM’s substantive support, but its timeliness was underscored within three months when a major disaster came to light which dramatically focused attention on the question of effective intelligence management.53 The COS directed the JIC on 1 December 1943 to investigate the SOE effort in Holland—and throughout Europe—due to the receipt by the Air Ministry of original information from two Dutch escapees indicating that SOE’s Holland network had been penetrated by the Germans since late 1942. This was the first evidence of the German Englandspiel, the playing of captured SOE agents in Holland by German counter-intelligence, owing in great part to the failure of established SOE security procedures.54 More information came to light later that day. The COS noted that ’[i]t appeared that SIS had had doubts for some time as to the situation in Holland, and had issued warnings to SOE on the subject’. The Minister of Economic Warfare, Lord Selborne, countered that such warnings had been received only recently. He also noted that when heavy Dutch casualties arose in June 1943, parallel SOE and SIS enquiries had both been negative. SOE then attributed the casualties to increased German night fighter operations intercepting British clandestine aircraft carrying agents for insertion.55 The JIC report on their enquiry into the fiasco was considered by the COS on 3 January 1944. CIGS Brooke stated outright that the situation ‘was so serious that he felt that the Chiefs of Staff should again state their opinion that from the military point of view it was desirable that the SIS and SOE should be brought under one ministerial head’. The Ministry of Defence was suited for that role, but if difficulties arose from removing SIS from Foreign Office control, Brooke wanted SOE to join SIS under the FO. Sir Hastings Ismay replied that since Churchill ‘had always taken a keen personal interest in these questions’, it was best that the COS view should be given to the PM before their consideration by

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the Defence Committee or the War Cabinet. Ismay was thus directed to inform the PM and Deputy PM accordingly.56 Ismay clearly told Churchill that the COS believed ‘that the time [had] come to make a fresh start and to find a radical solution to this troublesome problem. They feel strongly that SOE and SIS should be under the same ministerial control.’57 This issue was further addressed by the Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden, who indicated that the JIC report was ‘certainly most disquieting’, and that the matter needed ‘to be fully gone into by Ministers’. He did not approve of SOE coming under the FO, however, since it allegedly lacked the resources and personnel to direct it. The Ministry of Defence was Eden’s preferred home for SOE, ‘with day to day control by the Chiefs of Staff in consultation with [Eden himself] only in respect of policy’. The Foreign Secretary conceded that SOE— SIS relations had ‘never been easy’, but he remained unconvinced that amalgamation was the solution. The two services’ roles were distinct, while SIS was a small, professional ‘service of long standing’ and proven capacity; SOE was conversely ‘a large, loose organisation improvised to meet war needs’ (one official, the future Lord Gladwyn, described the FO as ‘quite unduly suspicious of SOE’ despite its ‘war-winning potentialities’ if it were ‘intelligently used’). Anthony Eden thus supported coordination under the Ministry of Defence, but not necessarily full amalgamation; his reservations regarding the creation of a single intelligence service echoed Churchill’s comments as War Secretary in 1920 (noted above, p.22).58 Clement Attlee then wrote Churchill to say that he agreed with Eden.59 The Defence Committee eventually considered the JIC report on 14 January 1944, prior to which, on 11 January, Lord Selborne had circulated his own paper concerning that report. Selborne’s paper held that the JIC report revealed ‘certain grave misapprehensions on matters of fact which is not altogether surprising in that the JIC normally have no contact with SOE’, and since SOE was not itself contacted for evidence ‘specifically connected with the wider issues…[the JIC had] raised’. While the Joint Planners were familiar with the method of COS direction of SOE operations, they were not consulted by the JIC, and worse still, SOE was in fact ‘practically excluded from contact with the JIC as all intelligence received by SOE from its own sources is, by charter, passed direct to SIS, whose representative [“C”] attends JIC meetings as required’.60 Selborne further noted that the JIC raised the issues of ‘coordination with SIS, the necessity for unification of intelligence and subversive activities and the institution of a single system of clandestine communications’. He observed Churchill’s ruling in COS (43) 618 (O) that the ‘SOE organisation [would] preserve its integrity under the Minister of Economic Warfare’; that the COS recommendations for closer control through the submission to them of SOE reports had been accepted (in COS [43] 240th Meeting of 7 October); that the COS had not subsequently complained about the matter; and that no SOE officer was permitted to sit with the COS. ‘On this point I can only repeat that I have throughout been anxious that SOE should be subject to the control’ of the COS,

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‘and should furnish them with all the information they desire’. He also stated that the functions of SIS and SOE, ‘separated by War Cabinet decision in June 1940’, should be kept that way. He then concluded that SOE should have the same relationship with the COS as the Army’s commandos. If SOE’s current separation from the Ministry of Defence precluded this arrangement, he fully supported placing SOE under the MoD ‘with or without the Minister of Economic Warfare, who could either act as the Minister of Defence’s Under Secretary or be eliminated’.61 At the 14 January Defence Committee meeting itself, a good deal of discussion revolved around the issue of the control of SOE by the COS, with Selborne stating that SOE should join the COS Committee itself. General Ismay said that the COS would discourage the suggestion that their Committee be enlarged to include SOE given permanent representation as a ‘fourth service’. Ismay went on to say that in his personal opinion, many difficulties would diminish if special operations came under military control through theatre Commanders-in-Chief. Selborne agreed, but pointed out that this had indeed been the case for some time. The Foreign Secretary then commented, saying that the JIC and Selborne reports indicated an unresolvable conflict of evidence. He then reiterated his objections to the amalgamation of SIS and SOE, ‘but wondered, however, whether the COS would like to put forward a plan for the future organisation of SOE and for the relationship which it should have with SIS’. It has been seen above that in COS (44) 1st Meeting of 3 January, the COS did in fact have such a plan, which they had stated directly to Ismay—mandate control of both organizations through the Ministry of Defence. Eden, Attlee and Selborne had accepted that as a solution, albeit with differing degrees of enthusiasm. Ismay, however, was now evidently not about to forget where his first loyalty lay, since he replied to Eden that ‘he felt that the COS would take the view that this was a matter for Ministers’, the Prime Minister in particular, presumably. Ismay then took the initiative to define ‘the sense of the [Defence] Committee’ as being ‘that the control of special operations should be decentralised [sic] to Commanders-in-Chief. This point was duly recorded in the Committee’s conclusions as being ‘desirable in principle’, and Churchill so informed on 29 January. Exit organizational reform.62 Churchill was not prepared to alter this situation as the war drew to a close. Lord Selborne counselled in October 1944 ‘that a nucleus of SOE should be continued after the war’. The Secretary to the Cabinet, Sir Edward Bridges, said that this suggestion raised ‘the same question as arises about many inter-Service organisations, particularly in the intelligence field; namely “To Whom should these organisations be responsible?”’—this had also been the case concerning the issue of a possible SIS-MI5 merger in June 1944 which went nowhere, largely because of the military’s concerns about SIS answering to both the Foreign and Home Secretaries, and about checks on security authorities (cf. the significance of MI5’s lack of arrest powers in Chapter 7, p. 189). Bridges went on to submit that SOE’s future had to be resolved to prevent the secret services developing on

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divergent lines. This subtle call for timely decision was followed with the observation that such a question could not be answered until Britain’s post-war defence organization was decided. Would there be a ‘full-blooded’ Ministry of Defence, or just a Minister of Defence like Churchill? If the latter, current arrangements permitted making such organizations responsible to him; if the former, then the necessary machinery had to be arranged. Regarding the control of SOE military functions for the duration of the war, the likelihood that MEW would be ‘wound up in the near future’ suggested that such control should be exercised by the COS ‘in close collaboration with the Foreign Office’. The necessary machinery could then be worked out between the FO and COS.63 This analysis was sent to Churchill; the PM noted the minute, but gave no further indication of his views.64 The Foreign Secretary soon weighed in with his own thoughts on 23 November. MEW’s ‘impending disbandment’ raised the issue of responsibility for SOE. The war with Japan continued, while ‘in liberated territories and in neutral countries there [might] be…useful scope for a covert organisation to further the policy of HM Government’. Eden would therefore regret abandoning all ‘special operations’ machinery even after the war. His preference was to put SOE activities and SIS ‘under the same controlling head’ since only chaos would result through two independent secret organizations working in foreign countries during peacetime. The Foreign Secretary was evidently trying to profit from the experience of clandestine chaos in wartime. He went on to say that as Foreign Secretary, he was responsible for SIS and the Political Warfare Executive’s propaganda work; he was also in his personal capacity responsible for MI5 (see below, Chapter 7, p. 189). Eden therefore proposed assuming Selborne’s responsibility for SOE, and responsibility for administration and policy concerning special operations.65 So much for Eden’s January argument about the FO lacking the machinery or personnel to control SOE. The Chiefs of Staff were provided with a copy of this minute, and they reviewed and accepted its proposals provided that the FO’s control of SOE was temporary and ‘in no way prejudice[d] the future control of either SOE or SIS, both of which the Chiefs of Staff would prefer to see under the Ministry of Defence’; that SOE would preserve its own Head without being placed under ‘C’; and that SOE’s Head dealt directly with the COS on all operational matters.66 These provisos were communicated to Eden and Selborne, and were evidently accepted.67 Upon receipt of a 14 August 1945 report by an ad hoc committee under the Chairman of the JIC regarding the future of SOE, the COS noted that ‘for the present the organisation could continue under the Foreign Office’.68 That had only come about, of course, because MEW was disbanded, and actual SOE activities were winding down. Further movement on the question of intelligence centralization progressed only after Churchill’s departure from the Premiership, and Clement Attlee’s succession. As the man who had himself pushed more than once for greater intelligence coordination, Attlee rapidly (31 August) approved the ad hoc report’s recommendation that SIS and SOE ‘should,

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for the present, be placed under a common executive head’, and that ‘arrangements should be made to appoint an Executive Head of the Secret Service having separate Special Operations and Secret Intelligence branches with common services’; after the Defence Committee ‘[i]nvited “C” and “CD” to effect such measures of coordination as were practicable’, it was subsequently ‘agreed with “C”’ that the ‘part of SOE which was required by the Secret Service should be merged into SIS’ effective 30 June 1946.69 Attlee had thus initiated within a month of taking office a course of action designed to integrate intelligence activities, all in response to a single ad hoc report from the Chairman of the JIC, later supported by a report from a committee established under Sir Findlater Stewart to study the entire intelligence establishment. This was in direct contrast to the fate of such proposals under Churchill. The open documentation shows in unambiguous detail a multitude of instances where Churchill received overture after overture throughout the war, from the highest echelons of the Cabinet, the special services, the military, and the civil service concerning the need to improve the coordination and structure of Britain’s intelligence system. On no fewer than eighteen different occasions between 1940–44, these recommendations, plans, concurrences and/or reminders of plans were communicated to Churchill—four times by the Chiefs of Staff (August 1943; September 1943; January 1944; November 1944); thrice by Attlee, the Deputy Prime Minister (two in November 1940; one in January 1944); thrice by Eric Seal, the PM’s own Private Secretary (July 1940; November 1940; January 1941); twice by Desmond Morton, the PM’s own intelligence functionary (January 1941; October 1942); twice by Anthony Eden, the Foreign Secretary (January 1944; November 1944); once by Lord Selborne, the Minister of Economic Warfare, who was prepared to give up his position to effect change (January 1944); once by MI5 (March 1943); once by the JIC (January 1944); and once by the Secretary to the Cabinet, Sir Edward Bridges (October 1944). None of these was to any avail. The inclination of the Prime Minister in power was obviously of paramount importance to the form and control of British intelligence. As the primary consumer of intelligence, the PM had the power to fashion the system to his liking, with consequent ramifications for the efficiency and effectiveness of the component services. This judgement is certainly contrary to the dubiously reasoned and thinly documented theses of works such as Nigel West’s Secret War, and Robert Marshall’s All the King’s Men, both of which strive to attribute the problems between SIS and SOE in particular to gratuitous inter-service rivalry, and in the case of Marshall, even dark conspiracy.70 As demonstrated by the events surrounding the 1943 failure in Holland detailed above, one need not look to conspiracy or thoughtless competition when the outstanding issue of command and control of SOE, as well as the unresolved question of how best to coordinate that service with SIS at the highest levels of the intelligence system, can be so clearly documented. These problems persisted throughout the war, with the JIC proving an inadequate mechanism for their resolution. This survey of Churchill’s preferred

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method of intelligence management and its implicit drawbacks is therefore more ambivalent than the portrait in the Official History, or in Christopher Andrew’s works on the subject, among others. Those works characterize Churchill’s relationship with intelligence as being a fundamentally positive one in light of the PM’s personal interest in such matters. His keen understanding of the ULTRA windfall; his continual personal contact with intelligence officials; his focus on intelligence in the Anglo-American alliance; and his reliance on deception and intelligence in formulating military operations and strategy are all considered to outweigh the relatively minor sins of an exaggerated faith in the efficacy of sabotage and subversion, and some impetuousness in using intelligence. Churchill is also credited with being a great backer of the JIC system of intelligence coordination. This propensity for immersing himself in the modern ‘Great Game’ is further attributed to his Victorian social and military background (which stressed the role of gamesmanship and espionage in Great Power politics), to his openness to new technological innovations (such as signals intelligence), and to Churchill’s personal style of executive leadership, with its relative flair for balancing the requirements of the people, the military, and the government. The Prime Minister’s affinity for intelligence management was thus a major component of his overall superior capacity for waging Total War.71 While such portraits give the PM his due, they overlook a key fault emanating from his personal style of intelligence management. Churchill’s resistance to the numerous requests to initiate improvements in the coordination of the major intelligence services, while doubtless stemming from his personal inclination to be his own intelligence officer, was nevertheless largely responsible for the limitations of the disjointed SIS-SOE relationship documented above. The PM ironically set the stage for the very complications and rivalries between the intelligence and sabotage services that he himself deplored (as a ‘lamentable, but perhaps inevitable, feature of our affairs’), and which others like Nigel West simply attribute to the services themselves.72 He steadfastly refused to act on all proposals brought to him for refining the coordination and structuring of the clandestine services. The ostensible excuse that such changes would cause gratuitous and unworkable disruption strikes an unconvincing note given the real shortcomings inherent in the accepted set-up. The additional argument that the JIC (as strengthened by Churchill in 1940–41, and in contrast with the original, weak version of the committee) offered sufficient centralization, coordination, and ‘general direction’ may have been borne out with regard to the formulation and use of strategic intelligence assessments derived largely from ULTRA, but it certainly remained to be demonstrated in the operational management of the intelligence services themselves. The Holland disaster detailed by Lord Selborne in January 1944 particularly underscored the obvious disparity between the JIC’s relative success as a strategic assessment body, and its inadequate capacity for giving direction. This lack of real JIC coordinating authority over the various clandestine organizations throughout the war reflected the unresolved question

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of how best to direct the various intelligence functions. It specifically contributed to COS demands for direct military control of SIS-SOE operations in late 1943, and for Ministry of Defence or Foreign Office control through the COS after the Englandspiel revelations demonstrated SOE’s ‘practical exclusion’ from the JIC. It may be accepted from Edward Thomas’s analysis that the strategic assessment function was the apotheosis of the JIC system, but the consequence of this reality for the issue of intelligence direction must also be recognized.73 The JIC by itself simply did not have the executive power to order closer coordination between the intelligence services (regarding the Holland disaster, they could merely raise the issue of closer coordination, which no one but the COS seriously considered anyway). Only Churchill as Minister of Defence could sanction change, and this he would not do. As noted acerbically by SIS veteran Malcom Muggeridge, it thus remained that ‘[t]hough SOE and MI6 were nominally on the same side in the war, they were, generally speaking, more abhorrent to one another than the Abwehr was to either of them’.74 The argument advanced most notably by Ronald Lewin that Churchill deliberately attempted to control his propensity for foisting his own strategic and institutional initiatives onto the war effort may seem to explain the PM’s non-interventionist stance in the organization of British intelligence, but it lacks credence given the consistency and intensity of the requests made of him for action. Certainly the lack of basic interchanges between SIS and SOE as evidenced by the Englandspiel fiasco in Holland mobilized the COS, JIC, and Lord Selborne to confront the issue of necessary change; and Attlee made the convincing point as early as 1940 (although perhaps on partisan grounds given Labour’s distrust of British intelligence) that the very importance of efficient intelligence organization, first to the very survival of Britain, and then to the overall war effort, demanded action. It moreover cannot be logically argued that any response by Churchill to the repeated pleas of his chief subordinates could be misconstrued as undue or frivolous interference; such action would simply conform to their stated wishes.75 So while Churchill’s relative effectiveness as an intelligence-orientated warlord is obvious, the problems stemming from his highly personal oversight must be squarely faced. By directly making demands on the intelligence and sabotage services as he was wont to do, he made them focus on their institutional survival, thus sowing the seeds for disharmony as SIS and SOE, in particular, wanted to be seen to achieve success individually in their spheres of operation. By resisting attempts to integrate further the higher direction of SIS and SOE, he ensured that the British intelligence community would remain more fragmented and disjointed in its collective efforts than need have been the case. Without greater coordination or integration, vital information was compartmentalized among the competing services, and limited personnel resources were dissipated. In contrast to later American efforts in Germany (see Chapter 6), SOE and SIS resources were not mobilized toward mutually supporting operations, and this also negated the possibility of more coherent liaison with the military. Churchill’s reservations about the differing characters of SOE and SIS activities notwithstanding, the

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administrative centralization of the British secret services could have achieved valuable dividends. Churchill’s direction of intelligence therefore had a considerable effect on how the British intelligence bodies each waged their particular brand of warfare with little regard for their ostensibly sister services, and on the example provided for OSS/London to follow in the early days of the Anglo-American intelligence partnership. NOTES 1. Consider Stanley P.Lovell to Ned Buxton, December 1944, p. 3, Entry 180, Reel 118, R[ecord]G[roup] 226, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC [hereafter NARA]: ‘Since the days of Queen Elizabeth Great Britain has maintained her Secret Intelligence Service. It was founded by a great Englishman, greatly ignored by History, Sir Francis Walsingham. Sir Francis it was who gave the masculine Elizabeth advance intelligence…which greatly help to explain the flowering of England under the Virgin Queen. As we looked over the world scene we saw the British Secret Agent as a real power in the world. We noted that to likely British youth a career in Secret Intelligence was as noble and fine a future as a talented youngster could pick. Why was this so…? The answer is that in the generation between World Wars I and II the minds of Britons had been dramatically touched. Touched by Somerset Maughan [sic] in his classic “Ashenden, the British Agent”, by Lord Tweedsmuir (John Buchan) in “The Twenty-Nine Steps” [sic] and scores of other stories…until the life-long or life-short profession of British Agent appealed to Britons as the acme of patriotism, adventure and reward’; see also William J.Morgan, The OSS and I (New York: W.W.Norton, 1957), p. 20; Thomas Powers, The Man who kept the Secrets: Richard Helms and the CIA (New York: Alfred A.Knopf, 1979), p. 21; Patrick Howarth, Intelligence Chief Extraordinary: The Life of the Ninth Duke of Portland (London: The Bodley Head, 1986), pp. 111, 114. 2. Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 1–59. 3. See the PRO’s HD 3 Foreign Office: Permanent Under Secretary’s Department: Correspondence and Papers series of records—see Louise Atherton, TOP SECRET: An Interim Guide to Recent Releases of Intelligence Records at the Public Record Office (London: PRO Publications, 1993), especially pp. 7–13, 16–20, 30–1. 4. David French, ‘Spy Fever in Britain, 1900–1915’, Historical Journal 21, 2 (1978), pp. 355–70; David Trotter, ‘The Politics of Adventure in the Early British Spy Novel’, Intelligence and National Security 5, 4 (October 1990), pp. 32–54; Nicholas P.Hiley, ‘Decoding German Spies: British Spy Fiction 1908–1918’, Intelligence and National Security 5, 4 (October 1990), pp. 55–77; on the impact of Erskine Childers’s The Riddle of the Sands, see Maldwin Drummond, The Riddle (London: Nautical Books, 1985), pp. 153–201. 5. French, ‘Fever’, pp. 355–70; Nicholas P.Hiley, The Failure of British CounterEspionage Against Germany, 1907–1914’, Historical Journal 28, 4 (1985), pp. 835–62; F.H.Hinsley, et al., British Intelligence in the Second World War: Its Influence on Strategy and Operations, Vol. I (London: HMSO, 2nd impression,

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6. 7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13. 14.

15. 16.

17.

1986), p. 16; see also Nicholas P.Hiley, ‘The Failure of British Espionage Against Germany, 1907–1914’, Historical Journal 26, 4 (1983), pp. 867–89. Hinsley, I, pp. 16–18. Ibid., pp. 48–51, 55–6; see also Eunan O’Halpin, ‘Financing British Intelligence: the Evidence up to 1945’, in Robertson (ed.), Approaches, pp. 202, 211–12; for a portrait of inter-war British intelligence, see Andrew, Secret Service, especially pp. 339–59, 376–411, Wark, Ultimate, pp. 21, 47, 232. Hinsley, I, p. 87; on the state of SIS, see Howarth, Chief, pp. 111–14; M.R.D.Foot, Resistance: An Analysis of European Resistance to Nazism, 1940–1945 (London: Eyre Methuen, 1976), pp. 134–5; for more caustic observations, Hugh TrevorRoper, The Philby Affair: Espionage, Treason, and Secret Services (London: William Kimber, 1968), pp. 39, 42, 47, 69; see Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 448–63 on intelligence mobilization in general; see also Christopher Andrew, ‘The Mobilization of British Intelligence for the Two World Wars’, in N.F.Dreiszinger (ed.), Mobilization for Total War (Waterloo: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 1981), pp. 107, 109–10; see also Christopher Andrew, ‘F.H.Hinsley and the Cambridge moles: two patterns of intelligence recruitment’, in Richard Langhorne (ed.), Diplomacy and Intelligence during the Second World War: Essays in honour of F.H.Hinsley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), pp. 31–3, concerning the recruitment of university graduates; for German perceptions of SIS, see Walter Schellenberg, Invasion 1940: The Nazi Invasion Plan for Britain (London: St Ermin’s Press, 2000), pp. 121–44. Hinsley, I, pp. 36–43; most of the pre-war minutes and memoranda of the JIC are now available at the PRO in CAB 56; early wartime minutes and memoranda are in CAB 81. Edward Thomas, ‘The Evolution of the JIC System Up to and During World War II’, in Christopher Andrew and Jeremy Noakes (eds), Intelligence and International Relations, 1900–1945 (Exeter: Exeter University Publications, 1987), pp. 220–32. Beaumont-Nesbitt to Ismay, 9 February 1940; Ismay to Colonel Petibon, 14 February 1940; both in CAB 21/1425, PRO; on MIR, see also Nigel West, MI6: British Secret Intelligence Service Operations, 1909–45 (London: Panther, 1985), pp. 115–16. Beaumont-Nesbitt to Ismay, 3 March 1940; on the Cadogan committee, see G. Barnard to Ismay, 2 April 1940; both in CAB 21/1425, PRO; cf. Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 471–6. Ismay to Beaumont-Nesbitt, 5 March 1940, CAB 21/1425, PRO. Ismay to [Cabinet] Secretary, 8 March 1940; Bridges to Ismay, 12 March 1940; Ismay to COS, 29 March 1940, which notes the JIC proposing the ISPB in the paper COS (40) 271, both in CAB 21/1425, PRO. Ismay to COS, 29 March 1940. Ibid.; on Menzies (pronounced as ‘Meng-eez’), see Charles Whiting, The Battle for Twelveland: An account of Anglo-American intelligence operations within Nazi Germany, 1939–1945 (London: Transworld, 1975), p. 23, and Troy, Donovan, p. 32; West, MI6, pp. 141–4; Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 343–4, 439; the designation ‘C’ was derived from the name of the first CSS, Mansfield Gumming; see Andrew, Secret Service, p. 73; Hinsley, I, p. xi. Churchill minute, 2 April 1940, CAB 21/1425, PRO.

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18. G.Barnard to Ismay, 2 April 1940, on Hankey’s reaction, CAB 21/1425, PRO; see Hinsley, I, pp. 93–4, on ISPB. 19. JIC (40) 36 (also as COS [40] 305 [JIC]), CAB 21/1425, PRO. 20. Registry form regarding the DCOS (40) 19th Mtg, 30 April 1940, CAB 21/1425, PRO. 21. See also Hinsley, I, pp. 93–4, and Wesley K.Wark, ‘Beyond Intelligence: The Study of British Strategy and the Norway Campaign, 1940’, in Michael Graham Fry (ed.), Power, Personalities and Policies: Essays in Honour of Donald Cameron Watt (London: Frank Cass, 1992), pp. 238–40. 22. Hinsley, I, pp. 18–19. 23. Christopher Andrew, ‘Churchill and Intelligence’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 3 (July 1988), pp. 181–93; Hinsley, I, p. 160; the role of SIS in the JIC is also acknowledged in the American Liaison Sub-Committee of the War Cabinet, AL (41) 1st Mtg, 29 May 1941 (noting the presence besides the service intelligence departments of ‘representatives of other Departments particularly concerned with intelligence’), in CAB 99/9, PRO; see also COS (40) 932 (Final) of 14 November 1940, PREM 4/97/11, PRO, which outlines the intelligence structure, including the place of the ‘officer in charge of the SIS’ within the JIC; on Hankey’s review, see Hinsley, I, pp. 91–2, and Wark, ‘Beyond’, in Fry (ed.), Power, p. 239. 24. Churchill to Ismay, for Menzies, 5 August 1940; Ismay passed on the verbatim substance of Churchill’s pugnacious directive to Menzies that same day, adding a PS that he believed that Morton ‘has already told you the Prime Minister’s wishes: but thought it better to let you have his exact minute’; on 21 August, someone informed Colonel Jacob of the Secretariat that no reply from Menzies had been received, although he ‘may have rendered a report direct to Major Morton’, and enquiring whether to remind Menzies; when asked that same day whether he wished any further action to be taken on the question, Ismay replied, ‘No. This is Morton’s pigeon!’; all in CAB 120/746, PRO; cf. Hinsley, I, p. 295, which quotes only the first paragraph of the 5 August minute to Menzies (described as ‘to General Ismay’ alone) as an illustration of Churchill’s irritation with ‘collective wisdom’. 25. Draft Paper on the History of the Photo Reconnaissance Unit, n.d., AIR 40/1816, PRO. 26. See Hinsley, I, pp. 26–30, 274–82, 496–9; Andrew, ‘Mobilization’, p. 106; on destruction of SIS networks, see M.R.D.Foot, ‘Was SOE Any Good?’, Journal of Contemporary History 16, 1 (January 1981), p. 172, and M.R.D.Foot, ‘A Comparison of SOE and OSS’, in Robertson (ed.), p. 156. 27. Hinsley, I, p. 20; Peter Gudgin, Military Intelligence: The British Story (London: Arms and Armour, 1989), p. 53; Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 259–60. 28. Hinsley, I, pp. 54, 108–9, 488–95; Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 449–51; Gordon Welchman, The Hut Six Story: Breaking the Enigma Codes (New York: McGrawHill, 1982), pp. 1–115; Jean Stengers, ‘Enigma, the French, the Poles and the British, 1931–1940’, in Andrew and Dilks (eds), Missing, pp. 101–37; Hugh SebagMontefiore, Enigma: The Battle for the Code (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2000). 29. Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 448–9, 486; Welchman, Six, pp. 92, 128, 160. 30. Hinsley, I, pp. 295–6.

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31. Howarth, Chief, p. 144, quotes Cavendish-Bentinck of the JIC as saying that ‘Churchill had a tendency to create his own intelligence’; cf. Robert Cecil, ‘“C’s” War’, Intelligence and National Security 1, 2 (May 1986), pp. 179–80. 32. ‘C’s’ view is recorded in the OSS/Washington report ‘Coordination of Intelligence Functions and the Organization of Secret Intelligence in the British Intelligence System’, July 1945, p. 39, held in the Sir William Stephenson File, Folder 78, Box 120B, William J.Donovan Papers, US Army Military History Institute (USAMHI), Carlisle Barracks, Carlisle, Pennsylvania; Arthur B.Darling MS, ‘The Central Intelligence Agency: An Instrument of Government, to 1950, Vol. I’, DCI Historical Series, December 1950, pp. 29–30, and Ludwell Lee Montague Ms, ‘General Walter Bedell Smith as Director of Central Intelligence, October 1950– February 1953, Vol. I: The Essential Background’, DCI Historical Series, December 1971, p. 18, both in RG 263, NARA, each identify this report as being written by the Deputy G-2 12th US Army Group, William Harding Jackson, after a 1945 trip to England to study the British intelligence system; Montague cites a December 1969 letter he received from Jackson to note that Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden was Jackson’s main source of information; Eden was at that time the minister responsible for SIS through the Foreign Office, and responsible in his personal capacity for MI5 (see Chapter 7). 33. See also Malcom Muggeridge, Chronicles of Wasted Time, Vol. 2: The Infernal Grove (London: Collins, 1973), p. 128, and Anthony Verrier, Through the Looking Glass: British Foreign Policy in an Age of Illusions (New York: W.W. Norton, 1983), pp. 25–8, 40. 34. Hinsley, I, pp. 277–8; see Wark, ‘Beyond’, in Fry (ed.), Power, pp. 240–4. 35. Quotations from Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 475–6. 36. See David Stafford, The Detonator Concept: British Strategy, SOE and European Resistance After the Fall of France’, Journal of Contemporary History 10, 2 (April 1975), pp. 185–217; David Stafford, Britain and European Resistance, 1940–1945: A Survey of the Special Operations Executive, with Documents (London: Macmillan, 1980), pp. 2, 10–49; J.R.M.Butler, Grand Strategy, Vol. II: September 1939–June 1941 (London: HMSO, 1957), pp. 212–17, 344, 408–15; J.M.A.Gwyer, Grand Strategy, Vol. III: June 1941–August 1942, part i (London: HMSO, 1964), pp. 21–48; W.N.Medlicott, The Economic Blockade, Vol. I (London: HMSO and Longmans, Green, 1952), pp. 25–9, 33, 43, 47, 420–1; see also the Official History by Foot, SOE; David Reynolds, ‘Churchill and the British “Decision” to fight on in 1940: right policy, wrong reasons’, in Langhorne (ed.), Diplomacy, pp. 14–67, David Stafford, ‘Britain Looks at Europe, 1940: Some Origins of SOE’, Canadian Journal of History 10, 1 (April 1975), pp. 239–48; David Stafford, ‘Secret Operations versus Secret Intelligence in World War II: The British Experience’, in Timothy Travers and Christon Archer (eds), Men at War: Politics, Technology and Innovation in the Twentieth Century (Chicago: Precedent, 1982), pp. 120, 128–9; Brian Bond (ed.) Chief of Staff: The Diaries of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Pownall, Vol. II: 1940–1944 (London: Leo Cooper, 1974), pp. 23–7; Cecil, ‘“C’s”’, p. 176. 37. Note by Lord Privy Seal, via PM for Ismay, 5 November 1940; L.C.Hollis to A.M.R. Topham, 24 November 1940; both in PREM 4/97/11, PRO; cf. Hinsley, I, pp. 291–6, on the issue of intelligence centralization; Hinsley, I, p. 291 also erroneously attributes the origin of the questions about the intelligence service, and

38 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46.

47. 48. 49. 50. 51.

52.

53.

about ‘who’ was responsible for it, to Churchill—COS (40) 932 of 14 November is cited, even though this document clearly states that the questions originated with the Lord Privy Seal; Andrew, Secret Service, p. 485, repeats this; see also Thomas, ‘JIC’, in Andrew and Noakes (eds), International, p. 233, regarding the presumed dearth of alternatives to the JIC system of intelligence coordination. COS (40) 932 (Final), 14 November 1940, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Hollis to Topham, 24 November 1940, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Attlee to PM, 28 November 1940, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Seal to PM, 25 July 1940, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Seal to PM, 22 November 1940, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Topham to Seal, 7 January 1941; Seal to Topham, 7 January 1941 (this is the document with the ‘Nothing further…’ notation); Seal to PM, 13 January 1941, with attachment and amendments, on 10 Downing Street letterhead; all in PREM 4/ 97/11, PRO; see Andrew, Secret Service, p. 485, which mentions that Churchill was at this time ‘carefully considering… Intelligence and Secret Service control’. Morton to Ismay, 27 August 1940, CAB 120/746, PRO. Ismay to Morton, 29 August 1940, CAB 120/746, PRO. Lt-Col Edwards to DNI, DMI and ACAS(I), 29 August 1940; P.R.Chambers to Edwards, 5 August 1940; Maj.-Gen. Beaumont-Nesbitt to Edwards, 9 August 1940; all in CAB 120/746, PRO. Morton to PM, 20 January 1941, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Morton to PM, 30 October 1942; Morton to PM, 3 November 1942; both in PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Churchill to Morton, 1 November 1942, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Churchill to Ismay, 5 November 1942, with handwritten notation of 23 November, PREM 4/97/11, PRO. Hinsley, II, pp. 14–17; F.H.Hinsley and C.A.G.Simkins, British Intelligence in the Second World War, Vol. IV: Security and Counter-intelligence (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990), pp. 173–5; for a source of the friction, see also COS (43) 142 (O), 20 March 1943, CAB 80/68, PRO (the SOE Directive for 1943), which states that the ‘requirements of SIS should in general be accorded priority over your own operations’ in western Europe; the July 1945 OSS report by Jackson, ‘Coordination of Intelligence Functions’, Donovan Papers, USAMHI notes that the ‘lack of cooperation between SIS and SOE was a notable instance of failure in the British system’ (p. 55), and that the ‘coordination between the secret intelligence agencies and…the Special Operations Executive…has been sporadic and undirected’ (p. 65); see also Stafford, ‘Secret’, p. 133; WO 193/624, PRO contains a series of October–November 1942 memoranda pertaining to the appointment of Col E.H.L.Beddington from the MO Directorate ‘as a link between SIS and SOE and co-ordinate their work with general Staff policy’; although his charter has been weeded, it is shown that SIS and SOE would equally share the cost of his salary. Extract from DO (43) 7th Mtg, 2 August 1943; F.H.Hinsley, et al., British Intelligence in the Second World War: Its Influence on Strategy and Operations, Vol. III, Part 1 (London: HMSO, 1984), p. 462, cites a copy of this document held in CAB 69/5 without giving details of its contents. COS (43) 594 (O), 30 September 1943, CAB 80/75; the background of this report can be traced in COS (42) 150th Mtg, 14 May 1942, CAB 79/20, and in COS (42)

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54.

55. 56. 57. 58.

59. 60. 61.

62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69.

70.

71.

172nd Mtg, 8 June 1942, CAB 79/21; see also the extract of COS (43) 180th Mtg (O), 4 August 1943, Minute 5, WO 193/624; all in PRO. COS (43) 293rd Mtg, 1 December 1943, CAB 79/88, PRO; on the Englandspiel, see H.J.Giskes, London Calling North Pole (London: William Kimber, 1953), pp. 39–136, 202–3; Lauren Paine, The Abwehr: German Military Intelligence in World War II (London: Robert Hale, 1984), pp. 139–49. COS (43) 294th Mtg, 1 December 1943, both in CAB 79/88; see also E.I.C.Jacob to Deputy Prime Minister, 1 December 1943, CAB 120/827; all in PRO. COS (44) 1st Mtg, 3 January 1944 on JIC (43) 517 (O), SOE Operations in Europe, CAB 79/89, PRO. Ismay to PM, 5 January 1944, CAB 120/827, PRO. Eden to PM, 5 January 1944, CAB 120/827, PRO; Gladwyn view from Lord Gladwyn, The Memoirs of Lord Gladwyn (New York: Weybright and Talley, 1972), p. 103. Ismay to Deputy Prime Minister, 3 January 1944; Attlee to PM, 6 January 1944, both in CAB 120/827, PRO. DO (44) 2, 11 January 1944, SOE Operations in Europe—Note by Minister of Economic Warfare, CAB 69/6, PRO. Ibid.; JIC chairman Cavendish-Bentinck reiterates the need for SIS-SOE coordination in Howarth, Chief, pp. 174–5; Foot, Resistance, p. 265, notes that SIS handled SOE ciphers during the Dutch Englandspiel. DO (44) 2nd Mtg, 14 January 1944, CAB 69/6; L.C.Hollis to PM, 29 January 1944, CAB 120/827; both in PRO. Bridges to PM, 25 October 1944, CAB 120/827, PRO; June 1944 SIS-MI5 proposals, Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 175–8. G.B.Baker to Maj.-Gen. Jacob, 26 October 1944, CAB 120/827, PRO. Eden to PM, 23 November 1944, Annex I to COS (44) 381st Mtg (O), CAB 79/83, PRO. COS (44) 381st Mtg (O), Minute 6, 27 November 1944, Confidential Annex, CAB 79/83, PRO. L.C.Hollis to PM, 4 December 1944, CAB 120/827, PRO. COS (45) 198th Mtg, 14 August 1945, CAB 79/37, PRO. Ismay to PM (Attlee), 14 August 1945; Ismay to PM, 27 August 1944, suggesting that the Defence Committee meet on the subject of SOE’s future, marked ‘Approved CRA 27.8.45’, both in CAB 120/827; DO (45) 4th Mtg, 31 August 1945, CAB 69/7; COS (45) 289th Mtg, 27 December 1945, CAB 79/42; COS (46) 58th Mtg, 11 April 1946, CAB 79/47; all in PRO; the ad hoc report was memorandum COS (45) 504 (O), not currently available in the PRO. Nigel West, Secret War: The Story of SOE, Britain’s Wartime Sabotage Organisation (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1992), pp. 2–6, 246–54; Robert Marshall, All the King’s Men: The Truth Behind SOE’s Greatest Wartime Disaster (London: Collins, 1988), effectively discredited by Mark Seaman’s review in Intelligence and National Security 4, 1 (January 1989), pp. 198–201. See Hinsley, I, p. 296; F.H.Hinsley, ‘Churchill and Special Intelligence’, in Robert Blake and William Roger Louis (eds), Churchill (New York: W.W.Norton, 1993), pp. 408–12, Andrew, Secret Service, pp. 485–6; Andrew, ‘Churchill and Intelligence’, pp. 181–93; see also Thomas, ‘JIC’, in Andrew and Noakes (eds), International, p. 233, and Stafford, ‘Secret’, pp. 131–3; on the Great Game and

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72.

73. 74. 75.

Total War, see David Jablonsky, Churchill, The Great Game and Total War (London: Frank Cass, 1991), pp. 12–23, 29–43, 56–65, 73–6, 84–189. See Churchill to Ismay, 10 February 1944, CAB 120/827, PRO, where he describes ‘the warfare between SOE and SIS’ as ‘lamentable’; see also Stafford, ‘Secret’, p. 133; Stafford, Resistance, pp. 86, 204; cf. West, Secret War, pp. 246–54. Cf. Thomas, ‘JIC’, pp. 232–3. Muggeridge, Chronicles, p. 174; the Abwehr was the German Intelligence Service. Cf. Hinsley, ‘Churchill’, in Blake and Louis (eds), Churchill, pp. 408–12, on the issue of ‘general direction’; see also Ronald Lewin, Churchill as Warlord (London: B.T. Batsford, 1973), pp. 3, 43–4, 56–7, 73–5, 132–3, 265–6, and John Charmley, Churchill: The End of Glory: A Political Biography (Toronto: Macfarlane, Walter and Ross, 1993), p. 505.

2 The Genesis of OSS/London, and the British Dimension

MI6’s Malcom Muggeridge recalled Americans in wartime espionage as being ‘like innocent girls from a finishing-school anxious to learn the seasoned demimondaine ways of the old practitioners—in this case the legendary British Secret Service… Alas’, as Muggeridge would have it, ‘the period of tutelage lasted all too short a time’ before the ‘first feeling of awe and respect soon evaporated’, and the students learned all there was to know about the espionage game.1 Matters were not quite so simple in reality, however, at least during the war. William Donovan’s organization was in fact firmly pinned between two symbiotic priorities throughout 1941–43: the need to establish itself in the eyes of American authorities, and the requirement to attract support from British services which themselves sought assurances of OSS permanence and viability. The British intelligence system outlined in Chapter 1 played a defining role in the resolution of this dilemma. Since OSS was hampered less by its relative inexperience than it was stymied by the US military’s luke-warm support in Europe, the confused jostling for bureaucratic survival made OSS that much more dependent on British support. This in turn made OSS particularly subject to the British system’s fragmentation as each OSS component seized upon a relationship with its opposite number. The American military’s power over OSS thus did more to fuse OSS with its British ‘cousins’ than all the club lunches between Anglo-American intelligence patricians ever did. OSS bureaucratic insecurity accordingly proved more significant than its operational inexperience in defining the character of wartime Anglo-American intelligence relations.2 Surveying the origins of ‘Wild Bill’ Donovan’s intelligence organization invariably leads to his early counterpart, William ‘Little Bill’ Stephenson, especially as their characters and past experiences were quite similar. Each had a ‘good war’ during 1914–18, Stephenson as a highly decorated Canadian fighter ace, Donovan as a highly decorated infantry officer whose aggression won him his colourful nickname. Each achieved post-war wealth, Stephenson as a financier and businessman, Donovan as a Wall Street lawyer. Significantly, each moved in the tightly-knit circles of money and power which constituted the American and British political establishments, making them ideal servants for their governments.3

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Stephenson was duly appointed to the SIS post of Chief, British Security Coordination (BSC) in the United States in June 1940, in part to smooth the way for British security and intelligence activities in North America through personal liaison. Claims advancing a more glamorous and seminal role for Stephenson in the Anglo-American partnership, and the origins of US intelligence, have little substantive evidence to support them. They originated for the most part in Stephenson’s impaired post-war memory, and in the tales of hagiographers.4 What is certain, however, is that Stephenson’s service as an observer in the British effort to woo the Americans was paralleled by the manner in which Donovan was also used by President Franklin Roosevelt to assess Britain’s chances against Germany, in part through the use of links with British intelligence officials. After journeying to London in July 1940, and meeting leading figures in SIS and SOE, Donovan returned to communicate to Roosevelt and the American public that Britain could, and would, fight on. Donovan’s conclusions, emanating from a Republican, were no doubt expected by the Democratic president, and designed merely to provide an ostensibly objective and non-partisan source of public support for the President’s overly cautious efforts to help Britain as a neutral; but they also opened up possibilities for the British. Donovan was now on the British bandwagon, weaned on contacts with the legendary ‘masters’ of British intelligence. He was thus a natural target for suggestions that America cultivate its own intelligence sources in order to further its national interests. By so doing he would confirm the British assessments of the Nazi threat to civilization, and therefore to Britain and America in equal measure.5 The only scholarly debate concerns the source of these suggestions, and their role in the genesis of Donovan’s organization. Stephenson partisans credit ‘Little Bill’ for nurturing his new relationship with his soul-mate, Donovan, throughout the autumn of 1940. Stephenson was particularly instrumental in arranging a December trip by Donovan throughout the Middle East and the Balkans for a tutorial on British strategy (that of closing a ring around the periphery of Europe, bomb ing, and subversive warfare). The ensuing report by Donovan, his concomitant enthusiasm for Britain’s intelligence and war efforts, and his appointment as a Coordinator of Information (COI) in July 1940, are thus presumed to have enjoyed an exclusive causal relationship, thanks largely to Stephenson. Another view is that the good offices of British Naval Intelligence officials were as equally, and perhaps more importantly, involved in the origins of American intelligence as were Stephenson and SIS.6 The documentation in fact clearly supports a combination of these views: British Naval Intelligence played the most important role of the two in originally articulating the actual form of a US intelligence service; Stephenson and BSC apparently helped to cultivate Donovan’s interest in intelligence, and provided assistance during the subsequent early days of COI/OSS. In direct response to a personal request from Donovan, Commander Ian Fleming communicated some ‘suggestions concerned with the obtaining of intelligence through United States

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sources and the cooperation of US Intelligence Services with our own’ on 9 June 1941 in his capacity as assistant to the Director of British Naval Intelligence (DNI), Rear-Admiral John Godfrey. Although they were ‘submitted privately’, they were first vetted by Godfrey, with an information copy to Stephenson. While naturally stressing that none of the suggestions concerning SIS could be acted upon ‘without prior consultation with Mr Stephenson, or without the full concurrence of his chief [Menzies]’, Fleming was their sole originator. He particularly mooted the possibility that a ‘suitable representative of the US SIS should be sent to London forthwith for discussions with CSS London, and it will probably be necessary to form a small US SIS mission in London’.7 Stephenson denied in 1969 that Fleming had had anything to do with the idea of an American intelligence organization, calling the portrait in Donald McLachlan’s Room 398 (which reproduces portions of the Fleming memo without archival source) ‘a pack of nonsense’. He further claimed that Dick Ellis of BSC could confirm that ‘Godfrey would have been “horrified” at the thought of Fleming being so engaged’, and that Ellis himself was a key source on the establishing of US intelligence.9 Ellis’s citation for the US Legion of Merit, however, clearly states that it was only during the period from 1 January 1942 to early 1943 that Ellis served as BSC-COI liaison, assisting in the ‘firm establishment and growth of the Coordinator of Information’, and ‘in laying the foundation for an American counterpart’ of SIS.10 In a report on his observations of American intelligence efforts at that time, Godfrey offered more detail on the specifics of British influence in the creation of COI: In cooperation with Mr Stephenson…Colonel Donovan was persuaded to increase his personal interest in Intelligence, and details of how US Intelligence could be improved in the common cause were worked out in collaboration with him and certain other senior officials of the government. The question was also discussed with the President direct, and Colonel Donovan’s qualifications as Coordinator of Intelligence were advocated to Mr Roosevelt. Finally, a memorandum conceiving a very large scale, and in many respects novel Intelligence Organisation was prepared by Colonel Donovan for the Foreign Secretary [sic; Godfrey is referring to the Secretary of State], the Secretary of the Navy and the Secretary of War… This was approved by them, and subsequently Colonel Donovan was offered by the President, and accepted, the post of ‘Coordinator of Intelligence’ [sic; Godfrey means ‘of Information’]. It is too early to say how closely Colonel Donovan’s duties will follow those proposed in his memorandum, but it is understood that they will cover a very wide field, that his finances will be met from a secret vote, and that he will be responsible to the President direct.

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Colonel Donovan has been supplied with memoranda on a great variety of aspects of intelligence and he has been offered any degree of collaboration he may require with British Intelligence Organisations. Mr Stephenson will continue to work in the closest cooperation with him…11 The overall agenda and intent of British officialdom is clear: cultivate Donovan, and get the Americans to establish some sort of intelligence organ as a first step toward a complete mobilization of American resources ‘in the common cause’. Stephenson was just one of a number of British contacts designed to point Donovan in the right direction. British Naval Intelligence was certainly another key player, being particularly instrumental in helping to define the necessities of an American intelligence service with the vital attribute of working in partnership with its British counterpart through a mission in London. Once COI was formed on 11 July 1941, Stephenson and BSC then played a substantive role in developing the specific contacts required by the Americans for creating their unit from scratch.12 Donovan’s 10 June 1941 ‘Memorandum of Establishment of Service of Strategic Information’ indirectly referred to by Godfrey thus bears the hallmarks of British guidance flavoured with Donovan’s own proposals born of enthusiastic brainstorming rather than experience. The memo lectures the reader at the beginning that ‘[s]trategy, without information upon which it can rely, is helpless. Likewise, information is useless unless it is intelligently directed to the strategic purpose.’ It goes on to state that the US lacked a service for collecting and analysing strategic information. With much relevant data scattered throughout the government, Donovan argued that it was imperative that some organization be formed to collect (‘at home and abroad’), collate, analyse expertly, and disseminate such information. He also stressed the idea of the proposed organization participating in ‘psychological warfare’ in close connection with intelligence. This body would be directed by a Coordinator of Information answering directly to the President as Commander-in-Chief to aid him in his military and operational decisions.13 The memo explicitly stressed the need for an information conduit direct to the President embodying the means for gathering the requisite data overseas, and directing its efforts to the obvious hostile target, all under the supervision of Britain’s star pupil in these matters. It was nevertheless long on what was needed, and a little vague on how exactly the mechanics of such an organization could be mobilized and made to function. COI was intended chiefly as a rough counterpart to the BSC in that it was orientated toward both secret intelligence and ‘coordination’. The organization would accordingly grow along the following haphazard lines during 1941–43: COI’s initial priorities upon its establishment on 11 July 1941 involved nailing down spheres of operation and securing sufficient budgetary funding. Donovan hoped to match a strong research and analytical component with branches devoted to procuring intelligence (SA/B), and executing subversive activities (SA/G, later SA/H). Establishing these

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embryonic branches in Washington dominated the first six months of COI’s existence, during which time Donovan pressed for definite areas of the war effort in which COI might operate. Donovan originally hoped to be involved in activities beyond the scope of subversion and psychological warfare, but such proposals were ‘so general and open-ended’ that COI immediately encountered resistance and hostility from other government departments who felt encroached upon. This hostility, combined with internal conflict over controlling propaganda activities, prompted Roosevelt to split off COI’s White propaganda arm as the Office of War Information, to remove Donovan from serving the President directly, and to rename Donovan’s unit the Office of Strategic Services under authority of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on 13 June 1942. This direct subordination to the military did not stop the US Army and Navy from seeking to edge out Donovan from what they considered their exclusive preserve to wage war for the United States. OSS involvement in active intelligence collection was particularly downplayed, leaving the organization mainly to oversee the as yet unfulfilled promise of guerrilla warfare and subversion.14 Serving the military became the prime objective of OSS in its desire to establish itself more firmly in the US military hierarchy, and the November 1942 invasion of North Africa (TORCH) particularly highlighted the potential of OSS to serve theatre commanders. The growth of OSS therefore proceeded at a gradual pace which essentially mirrored that of US military operations. As the American military presence solidified in the Mediterranean and elsewhere, OSS sought to establish its own in-theatre missions, and to be more fully incorporated into the local military structure. The creation of OSS missions in London, Cairo, and Algiers therefore reflected the military context of OSS evolution through 1942–43, with the invasion of Italy giving further opportunity for OSS to follow the expanding American military presence in Europe. Such missions were obviously the means by which OSS hoped to secure a place in decisive military operations as American participation in the war gathered momentum. The ultimate decision to settle on a fixed date for launching the invasion of western Europe from England in 1944 further underscored the importance of the OSS/ London mission. This was particularly fitting given London’s early emergence as the outstation which capitalized upon Donovan’s contacts with the British, and which eventually did much to secure for Donovan a degree of security with the American military establishment.15 COI had rapidly appointed a representative to the British capital in October 1941.16 Since Roosevelt had assigned to Donovan’s organization the responsibility for the collection, analysis, correlation and dissemination of information relevant to national security, the President notified Winston Churchill that ‘[i]n order to facilitate the carrying out of the work of the Coordinator with respect to Europe and the occupied countries’, he had ‘authorized Colonel Donovan to send a small staff to London’.17 The head of this London mission was former Rhodes Scholar and New York-London corporate lawyer William D. Whitney, who on arrival informed Major-General Ismay that

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his task was to transmit ‘a balanced picture of the British viewpoint’.18 At this stage Whitney and his propaganda colleague, Robert Sherwood, inspected all relevant British installations (SOE, SIS, political warfare, MOI, and MEW). In doing so they were acting in the capacity of general observers and had no particular liaison purpose in mind. Their intent was to gain some idea of how the British were fighting the irregular conflict of psychological warfare, secret intelligence, and sabotage.19 These British organizations also served as direct sources of information. ‘Liaison contracts’ were then established with the individual British agencies for the exchange of information after the timely arrival of a staff for Whitney the day following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.20 This was obviously precisely what the British had in mind for COI. Particularly noteworthy is COI/London’s role at this time as the foremost contact point with the British regarding propaganda, psychological war-fare, intelligence, and sabotage. COI/London was the most critical pathway for creating formal links through which hard information from British intelligence services was passed. One specific example of intelligence passed to COI/London involves the JIC decision to pass on to Donovan’s ‘representative in London’ certain JIC papers concurrently circulated to the American military (see also the recollections of W.H. Shepardson in Chapter 3, p. 75). BSC, on the other hand, served mostly as a courier service passing reports which had already been selected and cleared by SIS in London.21 An 18 November 1941 memo from Ismay to Churchill specifically stated that ‘it was hoped that the London Representative might particularly reflect and emphasize the British viewpoint’.22 Among the various British agencies, the Political Warfare Executive proved most helpful and prodigious in supplying information to Whitney and his associates, and SOE enthusiastically sought out COI/London as an ally.23 The major complication involved the precise status of Whitney and COI regarding intelligence work and relations with SIS. Whitney discussed this matter with Churchill on 25 November, stressing that his function was one of coordinating information, not executing intelligence operations. Churchill replied that he agreed with COI/ London’s view that ‘there was a gap here which could usefully be filled between high official channels…conducted by himself and the many lower channels… conducted by the collaborating agencies’. Whitney was then advised by the PM to deal through his assistants, Ismay for the military, and Desmond Morton on civil matters.24 A major snag in this arrangement involved the dearth of a suitable COI official to nurture links with SIS. The man originally selected for the job was R.M.J.Fellner. While he was successful in correctly identifying the willingness of Menzies and SIS to create an arrangement with COI/London, Fellner blundered by misunderstanding, or perhaps misrepresenting, SIS views on the geographical scope of US intelligence operations in Europe. He further presented a laughable impression to the British due to his being ‘frightened and jittery for fear that he would be shot or kidnapped by the Germans between the airport and the American Legation’ while visiting neutral Lisbon. An unamused

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Whitney went on to note that Fellner eventually succeeded in obtaining ‘a revolver from Scotland Yard, of which he is very proud. I am sure you will agree that this is no spirit for a man to head up this kind of work… I really think he is pretty much of an amateur storybook sleuth.’25 Another problem was Menzies’s mistrust of Whitney’s assistant, William Phillips, who the British believed had earlier ‘run a spy system on them’, and who the erratic Fellner had described to Menzies as being anti-British (Phillips was apparently oblivious to the depth of this feeling; while he denied the transgression attributed to him, his post-war recollection was that he ‘found nothing but the most welcome response. Immediately, I was invited [by the British organizations] to luncheons and dinners to meet the members of their various staffs. These were always pleasant occasions and helped to bring OSS into personal touch’ with the British services).26 This confusion came to a head with America’s entry into the war. Whitney left for Washington soon after the 8 December arrival of his staff to confer with Donovan as to the impact of formal American participation in the war on the role of COI. Whitney had written Donovan twice on 2 December to indicate that his mission had to contend with ‘the doubts about Phillips’, the ‘failure of Fellner’, and ‘the quite justified pounding from the British which arises from their disappointment that we have not done for them the one thing that they most ask us to do’, i.e., the ‘embarrassing fact that all favours requested by us appear to have been met promptly but that we have not accomplished any of their requests’, leaving the British ‘puzzled and hurt’. More important was the fact that with the advent of war, COI was assailed by all manner of bureaucratic rivals in Washington, which together with the earlier developments quickly eroded British confidence in COI.27 An early sign of British caution toward COI emerged on 2 January 1942. Desmond Morton raised Whitney’s ire by seeking a ‘clear declaration’ from Donovan personally ‘accepting full responsibility’ for assurances that all political radio re-broadcasting by COI was conducted with the approval of both the President and the State Department. This did not sit well with Whitney, who saw it as meddling in the relations between US departments, and contrary to COI’s status as answering only to the President.28 Morton’s suggestion nonetheless reflected a desire to know exactly the permanence and authority of COI in the Roosevelt administration’s new wartime footing. Whitney subsequently conceded as much to the British in an 8 January memo to Donovan concerning ‘The Crisis in COI’. Whitney noted that a large American government department tried to raid COI on a daily basis. The State Department would approach the British directly about broadcasting on one day, while on another, the FBI and its allies wanted to remove intelligence from COI’s jurisdiction. The Bureau of the Budget would then propose transferring COI’s Research and Analysis branch to the Economic Warfare Board as the Army and Navy sought another branch.29

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These developments underscored COI’s lack of any formal mandate to work in these fields. Equally troublesome was the reality that COI’s secret intelligence and secret operations branches remained virtually uncreated. For these units to be of substance, ‘and not look ridiculously inept and inefficient beside their British counterparts’, they would require support from the State Department, the Army, and the Navy ‘on the platform that they are going to get the benefits of this work’. Whitney therefore recommended COI’s concentration on securing a mandate for either coordinating information dissemination, for acting as a foreign information service, or for being the secret intelligence and secret operations service, not all three.30 Thus emerged the parameters of the Donovan organization’s protracted struggle for bureaucratic survival, complete with the spectre of a campaign on two fronts: one involving wave after wave of bureaucratic assaults at home; the second entailing attempts to convince the British that Donovan’s unit was in fact the bona fide intelligence service it purported to be, worthy of full confidence and candor. The classic Catch-22 was, of course, that Donovan needed substantive accomplishments to secure the ramparts at home, while the prospects of engineering such accomplishments rested in large part on convincing the British (SIS in particular) that Donovan’s service was a going concern with the American powers that be. A delicate balancing act was obviously required to resolve this dilemma. Donovan’s own actions did not help achieve that balance at a time when he needed to inspire all the faith he could. Within less than a month after Whitney’s ‘Crisis’ memo, he penned a bizarre ‘appeal from a soldier to his Commander-inChief on 21 February. Donovan wrote Roosevelt to plead for the execution of ‘a sound but daring military plan’ to save the doomed Philippines garrison involving troop reinforcements; basing heavy bombers in India ‘with a mission to strike at the sea lanes of communication in the China Sea, and to give aid in whatever way to MacArthur’; and most fantastic of all, sending ‘a naval task force with a carrier or carriers whose planes would attack targets in Japan…vital to her war effort’. Donovan argued further that ‘[m]any objections [could] be made to such a proposal, but military history shows that military effort is not a matter of arithmetic or bookkeeping—the imponderables [could not] be discounted’. He concluded by saying that America had ‘nothing with which to operate on a big scale’, but that it should ‘do as would a small but determined nation’. He was convinced that ‘the logistics would show its feasibility’, and he requested that he himself ‘be permitted to serve with this force in any combat capacity’.31 Gone was the notion that ‘strategy, without information upon which it can rely, is helpless. Likewise, information is useless unless it is intelligently directed to the strategic purpose.’ Donovan’s proposal bore no relation to the resources at hand, or to the practicalities of executing the operations he had dreamed up. It was as if Donovan had learned nothing about modern warfare during his trips abroad, or about assessing the information available to him. What is most

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extraordinary is Donovan’s apparent willingness to abandon leadership of COI, and to forsake its methods—the ‘imponderables’ now took precedence over empirical ‘mathematics and bookkeeping’. It is quite plausible that Donovan was losing heart in the face of his organization’s difficulties with official Washington, and that such a desperate mission involving the squandering of the limited forces then available to the US would allow him to bask in a blaze of glory reminiscent of his experiences in the First World War, where he won a Medal of Honor. However understandable the proclivities of his temperament, it is undeniable that such a memo, given directly to the President (and to the Secretaries of War and the Navy as well), could not possibly have inspired much confidence among the highest echelons of the US war leadership in Donovan’s stability, or in his commitment to organizing an intelligence arm, or in his ability to offer sound strategic appreciations. Roosevelt accordingly seems to have humoured Donovan. He replied on 25 February that ‘I would want to do the same thing if I were in your place. Talk with General Marshall [the US Army Chief of Staff] about it. Plans are under way.’ Marshall then replied on 27 February that ‘we all share your feelings on the situation in the Far East’, and that some action was being taken. ‘Your request for service in a combat capacity is typical of you. I will watch for a suitable assignment in that area and will call on you as soon as it develops.’ This, of course, never came.32 Such erratic behaviour was grist for the mill as far as Donovan’s opponents were concerned. It bore out the assessment of Donovan by MI6’s Dick Ellis: ‘Intense personal ambition…bad strategist: crystallizes opposition and underrates political enemies. Indiscreet. Inclination to flashy work.’33 Combined with an internal struggle over control of White propaganda with his deputy, Robert Sherwood, the over-extension and bureaucratic assaults highlighted by Whitney, and a growing desire to forsake psychological warfare for raiding and sabotage by Donovan, Donovan’s ‘Wild Bill’ reputation gave his Washington rivals sufficient ammunition in their efforts to cut Donovan down to size throughout the spring of 1942. Donovan was therefore most open to the prospect of accepting a secure slot within the new Joint Chiefs of Staff organization which had been created the preceding January. As the American counterpart to the British Chiefs of Staff, the JCS had been considering through early 1942 the employment of COI within America’s war-fighting resources. Donovan soon accepted this arrangement after some wrangling over exact duties at the expense of the renamed Office of Strategic Services being distanced from the President.34 Branch activities in London during 1942 reflected the inertia caused by the uncertainties plaguing the organization. As will be detailed in subsequent chapters, OSS consisted of component branches each focusing on one aspect of clandestine or intelligence work. The Special Operations branch (SO, formerly SA/G-SA/H) reached an agreement with SOE for operational collaboration in the realm of sabotage and sub-version, but this was offset by SO’s lack of personnel and resources with-in the theatre. In 1942, only six SO officers had reached London to establish a presence and to initiate links with SOE. As more SO staff

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personnel slowly arrived throughout 1942–43, increasingly formal linkages with SOE could be established, which itself begged the outstanding question of just how closely integrated SO/London was authorized to be with SOE. Further progress would have to wait until 1943 when SOE plans for Europe were more concrete, and after an influx of 50 trained military SO clandestine operatives and their supporting elements arrived after January 1944. The Secret Intelligence branch (SI, formerly SA/B) sought the opportunity to move beyond liaison staff work through its original five-man team to collaborate in espionage with SIS and Free French intelligence during autumn 1942. SI’s operational freedom of action was restricted by the US military until 1943, however (see Chapter 3, pp. 75–7), after which it managed to grow in proportion to its role in the Normandy invasion with the addition of more staff. The Research and Analysis branch (R&A) was responsible for establishing a unique contribution to the use of intelligence data with its initial complement of three analysts in 1942 growing throughout 1943 as a permanent analysis staff of about 50 men, but its 1942 efforts were largely confined to minor propaganda work before the creation of OWI. After that development, the branch fended for itself by contacting the many British agencies engaged in research and analysis as a preliminary step to direct information exchanges (see Chapter 4, pp. 105–6). Independent R&A work on bomb targeting for the American Army Air Force was in its infant stages during autumn 1942 (see Chapter 5).35 In sum, OSS/London’s personnel were about evenly dispersed throughout its branches and headquarters components as they gingerly tried to expand on their toe-hold within the theatre. Each element gradually grew from a small nucleus of military and civilian members throughout 1942–43. By the end of 1943, a major surge of military personnel allowed SI and SO to expand rapidly for French operations, although R&A more gradually acquired staff for its intelligence processing and office work. The branches thus for the most part grew in size separately but equally in response to their evolving tasks, with clear roles and personnel requirements largely worked out by mid-1944 for what by then was a 2,800 man mission.36 All of this growth depended on Donovan following up his service’s 1942 revamping by trying to codify the specific duties of the revised, if stagnating, unit. This would finally go some way at least toward opening up opportunities for OSS branches in London. OSS duties were thus eventually defined in January 1943 with JCS 155/4/D, and OSS General Order Number 9.37 While OSS inhouse histories describe this process as making OSS ‘more homogeneous’ and ‘more purposeful’, the fact remained that OSS was overall responsible in the first instance to the JCS. It was the JCS who defined the functions of OSS ‘in direct support of actual or planned military operations’. As these operations were within the purview of theatre commanders, it therefore followed that when in a theatre of operations, OSS was ‘subject to the Theater Commanders’. Of paramount importance, however, is the fact that the JCS would not order theatre commanders to use OSS—those commanders had themselves to favour utilizing

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the service. This nicety would remain an essential stumbling block in the OSS drive to establish itself.38 The experience throughout 1943 of what was now OSS/London, with Whitney replaced by William Phillips in July, bore this out. As corroborated in the Director’s Office War Diary, these directives concerning operations in the European Theater of Operations (ETO) ‘were valid for OSS/London only in that they described the Washington, or main, section of the Office of Strategic Services’. Their relevance to the overseas missions ‘was not explicitly apparent’, since they were not directly subordinate to the JCS. They were instead answerable ‘to a two-fold intermediary authority, the Director OSS on one hand, and the Theater Commander on the other’. This undeniably complicated OSS/ London’s duties (now defined primarily as gathering strategic intelligence for the JCS) since the Theater Command in London had its own ideas about the scope of OSS activities. The Theater Commander believed that OSS/London should be limited to acting as a section of US Army intelligence (G-2) in London. This held true for both General Frank M. Andrews, killed in a May 1943 plane crash, and his replacement as Commanding General, US Army European Theater of Operations (CG, ETOUSA), General J.L.Devers.39 General Devers in particular showed a distinct inclination to accept the myth of British intelligence invincibility to the point of supporting the British organizations over OSS. OSS/London’s new mission head, David Bruce, indicated in his correspondence that Devers was impressed with British intelligence, and consequently ‘somewhat apprehensive of the development of OSS intelligence lest it should jeopardize the British system’. This in turn reflected ‘how often Americans new to London’ easily presumed ‘the adequacy and competence of things British’.40 The American general’s attitude soon complicated OSS-SIS negotiations for joint operations, code-named SUSSEX (see Chapter 3). When the American Assistant Chief of Staff, G-2 in London indicated that OSS should expedite its ‘detailed arrangements’ with SIS, he was told on 2 August that OSS had been ‘informed by the British that they would prefer to suspend further discussions until the Office of Strategic Services shall have been given official authorization by the Theater Commander to execute the project with British SIS’.41 The very day that this memorandum was being written, the OSS Director met with Menzies to obtain the good word of SIS in his battle to convince the American Theater Commander of the utility of OSS secret intelligence. Donovan detailed a meeting held with Devers the preceding day in which Devers had stated that SIS had complained about the ‘slick’ and underhanded methods of OSS, and about their breaking of agreements. Donovan earnestly denied these charges to Menzies, and said that ‘it is inconceivable that anyone from your organization could have undertaken to speak for you in this manner. If anyone has done so we can only look to you as the responsible head to deal with it.’ Donovan’s memorandum to this effect had been drafted ‘without address or signature so that Sir Stewart could discuss it with Sir Claude Dansey’,

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presumably the suspected culprit. Menzies then ‘agreed to go and clear the matter with General Devers’.42 Whether by coincidence or by way of punishment, Dansey was in fact relieved as Chief Deputy Director of SIS soon after this meeting, and replaced by General James Marshall-Cornwall. SI/London later described Dansey as a ‘man of vast experience in secret intelligence work, a stalwart defender of the British imperial interest, a sharp and skillful negotiator, and, in his fashion, a genial friend of SI officers’ who had ‘nevertheless been an “obstructionist” in a number of matters which [SI had] sought to achieve’.43 Menzies’s support was critical in light of the American Joint Chiefs of Staff enquiry to Devers on 14 July as to the utility of OSS in the theatre, and since the JCS ordered Devers to solicit the views of the British Chiefs of Staff on the matter. The COS replied, after consultation with ‘C’, that they supported a role for OSS in secret intelligence provided that it was fully coordinated with the British and French services (i.e., according to the terms of SUSSEX); and that counter-intelligence operations be coordinated in London by SIS, all without precluding the theatre commander from tasking OSS as desired, aircraft availability permitting.44 With this qualified British support of OSS, Devers reported to the JCS that ‘[i]t [was] most desirable that OSS be developed to its fullest capacity. This [could not] be done, however, without the complete integration of all OSS activities with similar activities of the British SIS and SOE, and for this purpose OSS [London] should have direct contact with those agencies’ for operational planning.45 This development saved OSS/London from being gutted by its own high command, but it moved David Bruce to compose a rather bitter letter to Washington on 18 September: You will, before this, have read a copy of the reply of the British Chiefs of Staff to the JCS letter of July 14th to General Devers. To those in OSS, Washington, who seem to have a feeling that the OSS Mission in London is somewhat prone to allow its independence to be fettered by SIS and SOE, this communication from the British Chiefs of Staff should afford interesting food for reflection. After having our operations here submitted to the closest scrutiny by the American Theater Commander who sought the opinion of some of our British colleagues concerning them, it became necessary as a result of the request by the American Joint Chiefs of Staff to the British Chiefs of Staff for the opinion of the latter upon our functions, for us to go hat-in-hand to Broadway and Baker Street [the SIS and SOE HQs] and ask them to be as kind as possible to us in whatever answer they made to the questions addressed to them by the British Chiefs of Staff. On top of a performance such as this it seems to me sometimes remarkable that we enjoy any independence whatever; in fact to date we have obtained our strongest support, not from any American authority, but from our English competitors, which is a sad and undeniable fact.46

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This incident is significant since only at this point (autumn 1943) could OSS/ London be said to have acquired the authority to function as the primary US intelligence service in the ETO, with the correlative bureaucratic security to convince the British that OSS was in the intelligence field for the duration. Equally noteworthy is that if SIS had been motivated simply by a petty desire to cripple OSS, they had ample opportunity to do so during summer 1943. That they did not so ruin the Americans is a testament to their willingness to forge a partnership, provided OSS had the backing of the American authorities—to cooperate without such assurances risked a colossal waste of time and precious effort by SIS. The various organs of British intelligence had accordingly been sufficiently impressed with the potential and capacity for effectiveness demonstrated by the various branches of OSS (albeit often for their own reasons) to marshal this necessary recognition and acceptance of OSS by the American military.47 With the recognition and support of the Anglo-American military leadership, and an understanding with its own theatre command, OSS/London could then fit itself into the strategic and operational agendas of the Allies. The AngloAmerican intelligence relationship was thus, by the autumn of 1943, finally progressing beyond the initial stages of cultivation and subtle exploitation in the name of British survival to the point of establishing a truly functioning partnership. OSS as a whole benefited from this recognition since it reflected a real accomplishment and contribution to the US war effort, and a demonstration of confidence in the potential of the Donovan organization to function as advertised. It remained to be proved, though, just how effective the theory of a single allencompassing clandestine service could be in practice. OSS/London certainly owed its survival to the good offices of its British colleagues; but the fragmented structure of British intelligence was another consequence of the British link that had already made itself felt. The form and preoccupations of the British intelligence services effectively moulded OSS in their own collective image. The head of American Military Intelligence, Major-General George Strong, once stated to an OSS representative that ‘he did not understand the reason for the wide divorcement between SO and SI’. It was pointed out to him that ‘the apparent [sic] impression that there was a divorcement was based on the relationship, or lack of relationship, between the British organizations, SOE and SIS’.48 This insight obviously applies in equal measure to British intelligence since it served as the blueprint for the reality of OSS. Whatever the mythical ideal of OSS as the origin of centralized intelligence, it was undoubtedly the British intelligence apparatus which determined the operating method of OSS/London. The R&A branch War Diary reveals the precise method by which the Americans had to establish links with the British. While ostensibly an organization combining all intelligence functions—SI, SO, R&A—the reality was that the ‘most unfortunate feature of this early period in the history of the London office

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is the fact that these branches [SI and SO], certainly in relation to R&A, were wholly unintegrated’. The R&A/London Branch Head, Allan Evans, had not even been briefed on the existence of SO before arriving in London. The overall effect was to ensure that the ‘conditions within the London office were essentially those of a free-for-all pioneering and expansion’. [D]efinite rules of the game existed, and in the course of time careful account had to be taken of them. The situation which confronted the British was difficult, for strange American agencies were pouring into London and setting up offices, and all trying to spread their contacts as wide as possible. In short, the same free-for-all existed outside the limits of OSS as existed within it. Amidst this chaotic situation every British office of importance made an effort to distinguish the one American agency which most closely corresponded to its own function, and to establish more or less exclusive relations with that agency.49 This situation ensured that however centralized OSS was supposed to be in theory, OSS/London could in no way function under any one controlling authority. The necessity of dealing with separate British entities, each determined to work with the American structure most closely resembling itself, compounded the phenomenon. The original vision of OSS as a super ‘all-in-one’ intelligence entity was thus at the mercy of the nature of British intelligence, at least in London. An even blunter appraisal of the branch-balkanization within OSS/London was written in September 1945 by a member of the OSS/London Secretariat, Walter Lord: The exaggerated delineation between Branches in the conduct of OSS activities was always apparent throughout the time I worked in ETO… [T] his endless stress on the Branch as the be-all and end-all of OSS operations tended to becloud the contributions of the organization as a whole. So strong and independent was the position of the Branches that it was literally impossible to give the organization the close, direct, centralized executive control necessary for a maximum integrated contribution. Instead, the breakdown of the organization into innumerable semiautonomous principalities made for jealousies, reduced efficiency, wasted resources, confusion in the eyes of Allied and other US agencies, the loss of services which one Branch could have offered another, and the absence of benefits which would otherwise have resulted from combining talents and facilities…[A]lways in the background was the fundamental concept of Branch dominance. The apparent acceptance by Washington of this philosophy defeated the best efforts of [the OSS/London] executive staff to produce a truly integrated effort. It was in fact a basic philosophy which no

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human being could beat, embodying as it did the strangely contradictory thesis that the parts of an organization are greater than the whole.50 Since there was no single official coordinating British intelligence authority for OSS/London to deal with, this branch independence manifested itself in the distinct relationships arranged by the OSS components with the disparate organs of British intelligence. The SO branch was thus moved to establish its own direct, formal agreement with SOE in June 1942 outlining the extent of American and British spheres of responsibility for sabotage and resistance (or ‘executive’) operations (see Chapter 3).51 The R&A War Diary commented that SO/London’s ‘preoccupation with the British was especially intense—indeed that branch in London operated so closely with the highly elaborate British SOE organization as hardly to need any further auxiliary services on its own accountt’.52 The SI branch’s situation paralleled that of SO in this respect. It eventually forged a relationship with its opposite number, SIS, which for all practical purposes was stronger than any bond it had with the rest of OSS/London for most of the war (see Chapter 3). This partnership was summarized in a memo outlining the basis for recommending Menzies for a US decoration: When OSS…started functioning in London in early 1942, the task was, in so far as SI was concerned, to procure secret intelligence for the [US] Joint Chiefs of Staff, and later for the Theater Commander and other agencies in the Theater. One of the first and most important sources to which SI turned was Broadway [SIS]. This organization provided SI with a great deal of intelligence material although in the beginning SI had little to offer in return. Eventually the relationship became less one-sided, and cooperation became increasingly close as time went on… The largest single joint undertaking by SI and SIS was probably the Sussex operation…SI and SIS worked together very closely throughout…53 SI was not wholly content, however. The branch long harboured the belief that SIS was seeking to frustrate the development of an independent American secret service in Europe. During an April 1943 meeting in London to discuss the creation of an SI operational base, it was argued that SO was shortly going to have men in the field working with SOE but SI was in a different position than SIS, as SIS was a career organization and would not or could not afford to permit SI to develop lines that might jeopardise their own…SIS was jealous of its training program, considered it one of its greatest secrets and SI could not hope to have their cooperation.54 Whatever the Americans’ perceptions, the reality was more subtle and complex than they realized. SIS was itself in the position of fighting for its bureaucratic

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life—of trying to survive the war as an intact entity. It was not in any shape to reveal cavalierly its methods and assets to just any group of possibly transient Americans. As suggested earlier, before SIS was going to bare itself to any part of OSS, it needed some proof that OSS was there to stay, and that the effort and cost of forging a working relationship with SI would be justified in terms of successful secret intelligence operations which would reflect well on SIS. Any reticence on the part of SIS was therefore not due merely to pique or jealousy, however frustrating the SIS attitude may have seemed to outside observers (a further consideration was the distinction between the attitude of particular SIS officers, as opposed to the service itself, see Chapter 3). The finer points of the SIS attitude are born out in the documentation. Some time in the early days of OSS/London, an OSS staff member was visited by Sir William Wiseman, the former SIS liaison officer to the United States during the First World War. During the course of the conversation he hinted that there was still a good deal of uncertainty in official circles here with regard to the Donovan organization, and in particular with reference to its permanency during the ‘duration’. I said I was very much interested in this impression, and asked him whether he was referring to the attitude of ‘C’. He said yes, he knew for a fact that ‘C’ had in his own mind considerable doubts, and he mentioned also Duff Cooper [overseeing SOE] who was of a similar mind. He went on to say that ‘C’s’ attitude was partly caused by his dissatisfaction with the set up of the British agencies having to deal with intelligence, that he was not in sympathy with the rapid creation of these agencies, some of which intruded upon the activities of his own organization. Moreover, he felt that with each new alphabetical creation the security of the Secret Service was seriously affected. Sir William thought that gradually the standing of OSS would be clarified and that everything was going satisfactorily in that direction. He thought that anything I could say to ‘C’, indicating the President’s backing of OSS, would be of great value at this time.55 Combined with the role of SIS in the Devers-JCS episode, this insight into the British reaction to OSS shows how the British Secret Service was fundamentally supportive of its American counterpart, although the functioning of British, and therefore Allied, intelligence necessarily entrenched the reality of fragmentation and often debilitating institutional isolation. All of the attempts at fashioning some sort of centralized approach to intelligence management which emanated from the British, and the centralization hopefully embodied in the organizational flow-charts of OSS, were thus no match for the simple reality of fragmented allied intelligence coordination. Neither the old hands in the British services, nor the new boys in OSS, could be immune to that defining factor in the Allied intelligence alliance during the

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Second World War. While it might conceivably be argued that modern American intelligence services have uniformly and typically tended toward fragmentation of their own accord during the twentieth century, it cannot be seriously posited that OSS/London might well have evolved as it actually did regardless of the British dimension to its experience. OSS was by definition established as a unique entity, deliberately embodying the principle of centralization in direct contrast to both British and past American experience. The establishment of component branches as part of a single intelligence agency rather than of fully independent services was the defining, if theoretical, characteristic of COI and OSS.56 It could also be argued on the basis of Graham Allison’s analysis of government organizations during the Cuban Missile Crisis that government is a ‘conglomeration of semi-feudal, loosely allied organizations, each with a substantial life of its own’. These fiefdoms accordingly eschew homogenous aims, reflecting instead an inherent drive toward competitive bureaucratic politics dominated by parochial priorities and perceptions, rival goals and interests, and clashing stakes and stands.57 This model is not particularly applicable to OSS/ London, though. The very homogeneity and centralized authority within COI/ OSS was, in the first place, explicitly expected to avoid just that problem as compared with the rest of the US government. The role of extra-governmental influences must also be accounted for. The simple reality of OSS/London’s position relative to the US military, and to the firmly entrenched British system, combined to break down the structural innovation of OSS in the European theatre. All of the ensuing developments and experiences of OSS/London in relation to its British counterparts were destined to bear the imprint of this reality, and its component branches would accordingly be required to carve their own separate niches within the context of the Allied war effort in Europe. NOTES 1. Muggeridge, Chronicles, p. 173. 2. Cf. Nelson D.Lankford (ed.) OSS against the Reich: The World War II Diaries of Colonel David K.E.Bruce (Kent, OH: The Kent State University Press, 1991), and the review of this volume by Nelson MacPherson in Intelligence and National Security 7, 3 (July 1992), pp. 366–7. 3. The standard works on Donovan and Stephenson are Cave Brown, Last Hero, Richard Dunlop, Donovan: America’s Master Spy (Chicago: Rand McNally, 1982); Ford, Donovan of OSS; H.Montgomery Hyde, The Quiet Canadian: The Secret Service Story of Sir William Stephenson (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1962); Bill Macdonald, The True Intrepid: Sir William Stephenson and the Unknown Agents (Surrey, BC: Timberholme Books, 1998); British Security Coordination: The Secret History of British Intelligence in the Americas, 1940–1945 (New York: Fromm International, 1999), pp. 1–46; Troy, Donovan; Thomas F.Troy, Wild Bill and Intrepid: Donovan, Stephenson, and the Origins of CIA (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996); since Stephenson was of modest physical stature, his usual

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nom de guerre was ‘Little Bill’ to Donovan’s ‘Big Bill’—he was never ‘a man called INTREPID’- see Hyde, Quiet, p. 5; see also David Stafford, Camp X (Toronto: General Paperbacks, 1987), pp. 15, 25–7, 279, and the final two unnumbered pages of the Postscript. 4. See B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 21–3; Andrew, ‘Churchill’, pp. 191–2; Troy, Donovan, p. 34; Troy, Bill, passim; Dunlop, Donovan, p. 203; Whiting, Battle, pp. 111–12; Patrick Beesly, Very Special Admiral: The Life of Admiral J.H.Godfrey, CB (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1980), pp. 176–85; Donald McLachlan, Room 39: Naval Intelligence in Action, 1939–45 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1968), pp. 224, 228; Mark M. Lowenthal, ‘INTREPID and the History of World War II’, Military Affairs 41, 2 (April 1977), pp. 88–9; David Stafford, ‘“Intrepid”: Myth and Reality’, Journal of Contemporary History 22, 2 (April 1987), pp. 306, 315; Stafford, X, pp. 15–17, and Postscript; Timothy J.Naftali, ‘Intrepid’s Last Deception: Documenting the Career of Sir William Stephenson’, Intelligence and National Security 8, 3 (July 1993), especially pp. 75–6, 79, 82, 87; John Bryden, Best Kept Secret: Canadian Secret Intelligence in the Second World War (Toronto: Lester Publishing, 1993), pp. 56–7, 67–9, 81, 84–5, 107–8, 113, 116, 271–2, 335; cf. Hyde, Quiet, pp. 151–6, Dunlop, Donovan, pp. 213, 280–1, and Whiting, Battle, pp. 111–12; cf. also the interview with Stephenson conducted by Thomas F.Troy in 1969, Troy to Director of Training, CIA, 13 March 1969, Folder 66, Box 8, and Donovan’s comments on Conyers Read to Donovan, 12 February 1944, ‘Attached British Manuscript’, Folder 4, Box 1, both in the Thomas Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 5. Cf. J.H.Godfrey, The Naval Memoirs of Admiral J.H.Godfrey, Vol. V, 1939–1942, Part I: Naval Intelligence Division’, Chapter XX, McLachlan-Beesly Papers, Churchill Archives Centre (CAC), Churchill College, Cambridge; Hyde, Quiet, pp. 36–8, and Paul Kramer, ‘Nelson Rockefeller and British Security Coordination’, Journal of Contemporary History 16, 1 (January 1981), pp. 75, 78; see B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 55–8, 62–3; James Leutze (ed.) The London Journal of General Raymond E. Lee, 1940–1941 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1971), p. 21; David E.Koskoff, Joseph P. Kennedy: A Life and Times (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1974), p. 255, n. 123; regarding the influences on Roosevelt concerning Britain, see David G.Haglund, ‘George C.Marshall and the Question of Military aid to England, May–June 1940’, in Walter Laqueur (ed.), The Second World War: Essays in Military and Political History (London: SAGE Publications, 1982), pp. 143–4, 154–5, and Mark M. Lowenthal, ‘Roosevelt and the Coming of the War: The Search for United States Policy, 1937–42’, in Laqueur (ed.), Second World War, pp. 60, 66, 69–71; Mark L. Chadwin, The Hawks of World War II (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1968), pp. 92–3, 125–6; Lewin, Warlord, p. 50n; see also Halifax to Eden, c. 5 December 1940, A4925/4925/45 (1); Archibald Sinclair to Halifax, 7 December 1940, A5059/4925/45 (2), both in FO 371/24263; Minute by Sir D.Scott, 27 February 1941; and Alexander Cadogan to PM, 1 March 1941, both in A1 154/183/45, FO 371/26194, Cadogan noting that ‘although we have every reason to think that he enjoys the latter’s [i.e., FDR’s] confidence, he is not one of his intimate associates’; all in PRO; cf. M.R.D.Foot, SOE: An outline history of the Special Operations Executive, 1940–46 (London: BBC, 1984), p. 150; see also Danchev (ed.), Diaries of Vivian Dykes, pp. 21–4.

THE GENESIS OF OSS/LONDON 59

6. See Read to Donovan, ‘Attached British Manuscript’, and Troy to Director of Training; cf. Dunlop, Donovan, pp. 212–13, 280–1, 318 and Hyde, Quiet, pp. 151– 6 with McLachlan, 39, pp. 224–39, and Beesly, Admiral, pp. 173–84; see also ‘History of the OSS, Vol. I: The COI, Part One: Establishment of the COI’, pp. 2–3, 10, 96, Folder 5, Box 70, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; Leutze (ed.), Journal of Raymond E. Lee, p. 334; Naftali, ‘Deception’, p. 87; Jakub, Spies, pp. 1–21; and Danchev (ed.), Diaries of Vivian Dykes, pp. 23–4. 7. Fleming to Donovan, 9 June 1941, Folder 32, Box 1, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA; this is the Ian Fleming of ‘James Bond’ fame; see also Stafford, X, p. 279, and Troy, Donovan, p. 81, where both refer to a later, less-detailed, memo dated 27 June; Troy further refers to an earlier (at that time undiscovered) memo, presumably that of 9 June cited here; see also Troy, Bill, p. 127, Jakub, Spies, p. 29; Andrew Lycett, Ian Fleming: The Man Behind James Bond (Atlanta: Turner Publishing, 1995), pp. 129–30. 8. McLachlan, 39, pp. 231–4. 9. See Troy interview with Stephenson, Troy to Director of Training, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 10. See frames 1241–2, Reel 21, Entry 162, RG 226, NARA; cf. Thomas Troy’s comments favouring the Ellis link over that of Fleming, but without any reference to chronology, in Troy to Director of Training, 11 October 1974, Folder 49, Box 7, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA; Donovan to Frank Knox, 26 April 1941, in ‘British Intelligence Systems’, Vol. 29, Book No. 5, Box 80A, Donovan Papers, USAMHI, simply outlines the organization of SIS, conceivably as gleaned from sources like Ellis or Menzies, but there is no mention of how an American service might be established to work with the British; a minute purporting to be from Stephenson for Donovan ‘pre-COI’, n.d., in the Stephenson File, Folder 78, Box 120B, Donovan Papers, USAMHI, simply outlines basic espionage tradecraft with regard to ‘British Recruitment and Handling of Agents’. 11. ‘Intelligence in the United States’, by J.H.Godfrey, DNI, Washington, 7 July 1941, CAB 122/1021; this was in due course circulated to the COS on 30 July as JIC (41) 300 of 28 July; see COS (41) 267th Mtg, 30 July 1941, Minute 8, CAB 79/13; all in PRO; Godfrey, ‘Memoirs’, I, Chapter XX, McLachlan, 39, pp. 229–31, and Beesly, Admiral, pp. 182–3, detail Godfrey’s discussions with Roosevelt— Donovan was recommended as COI by the US Ambassador to London, John Winant; on Godfrey’s report, see also Bradley F.Smith, ‘Admiral Godfrey’s Mission to America, June/July 1941’, Intelligence and National Security 1, 3 (September 1986), pp. 441–50. 12. See Stephenson’s citation for the US Medal for Merit, 17 May 1945, Frames 1238– 40, Reel 21, Entry 162, RG 226, NARA, which stresses Stephenson’s role in this capacity after the formation of COI; see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 12, Basic Documents’, p. 1, in OSS/London: Special Operations Branch and Secret Intelligence Branch War Diaries (Frederick, MD: University Publications of America, 1985), Reel 6, for the order establishing COI. 13. As the Book of Genesis for OSS, copies of this memo are found throughout the OSS archive in RG 226, NARA; eg., Folder 8, Box 70, Entry 99; Folder 489, Box 48, Entry 110, etc. 14. Troy, Donovan, pp. 65–153 (‘open-ended’, p. 110); ‘History of the OSS, Vol. IF, 2 October 1944, p. 3, Folder 17, Box 73, Entry 99; Conyers Read History, pp. 49–50,

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15.

16. 17.

18.

19. 20. 21.

22.

23. 24.

25.

26.

Folder 16, Box 73, Entry 99; SA stood for Special Activities, B and G for the branch heads, Bruce and Goodfellow (H is unknown); see Bruce to Donovan, 16 March 1942 on SA/B designation, Folder 44, Box 8, Entry 92; all in RG 226, NARA; see also Jakub, Spies, pp. 22–47. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 140–254; Max Corvo, The OSS in Italy, 1942–1945: A Personal Memoir (New York: Praeger, 1990), pp. 32–272; Jakub, Spies, pp. 48– 109. Robert A.Solborg to Donovan, 6 October 1941, Folder 38, Box 1, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Roosevelt to Churchill, 24 October 1941, Folder 489, Box 48, Entry 110, RG 226, NARA; see also Warren F.Kimball (ed.), Churchill and Roosevelt: The Complete Correspondence, Vol. I: Alliance Emerging, October 1933–November 1942 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 263. Whitney to Donovan, 19 November 1941, with enclosure Ismay to PM, 18 November 1941, Folder 8, Box 70, Entry 99, RG 226; Donovan to JCS 5 August 1942, Folder 15, Box 73, Entry 99 also mentions the London mission’s liaison function; despite what he put on paper, Ismay had, in reality, been evidently ‘perplexed as regards the true object of Whitney’s visit’—see the cable, no author, no recipient, 23 November 1941, Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263; all in NARA. Interview with Mr William Dwight Whitney, London, 6 June 1945, Folder 31, Box 2, Entry 147, RG 226, NARA. Ibid.; see also Conyers Read History, Part II, ‘The Office of the Coordinator of Information’, pp. 55–6, Folder 7, Box 70, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. See the Whitney interview; JIC decision in JIC (41) 35th Mtg, 2 December 1941, Minute No. 6, CAB 81/88, PRO; ‘War Diary, SI Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 1, Introductory Survey’, pp. 2–4, 6, in Bradley F.Smith (ed.) Covert Warfare, Vol. 2: The Spy Factory and Secret Intelligence (New York: Garland, 1989), also demonstrates the intelligence-conduit role of SI, then named SA/B branch; see also H.Montgomery Hyde, Secret Intelligence Agent (London: Constable, 1982), p. 255. Ismay to Churchill, 18 November 1941, Folder 8, Box 70, Entry 99, RG 226; see also Donovan to Churchill, 27 October 1941, Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263; both in NARA. E.L.Taylor to William Whitney, 12 November 1941, Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. Whitney to Donovan, 25 November 1941—Ismay and Morton were to show Whitney papers ‘in their discretion’; in Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. Whitney to Donovan, 2 December 1941, Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263; re: Fellner’s early work, Fellner to Donovan, 2 November 1941 and Fellner to Donovan, 5 November 1941, both in Folder 8, Box 70, Entry 99, RG 226; all in NARA. Whitney to Donovan, 21 November 1941 (with Phillips’s denial), Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA; Phillips’s recollection in Dunlop, Donovan, p. 357.

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27. Letter, Whitney to Donovan, 2 December 1941; typescript (of a cable?), Whitney to Donovan, 2 December 1941, both in Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263; see also Whitney interview, Folder 31, Box 2, Entry 147, RG 226; all in NARA. 28. On Morton enquiry, see the cable, for Taylor from Winner, 2 January 1942; on Whitney’s reaction, Whitney to Donovan, 5 January 1942; Whitney to Donovan, 6 January 1942, Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 29. Whitney to Donovan, 8 January 1942, Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 30. Whitney to Donovan, 8 January 1942; see Whitney’s further memos exploring the possibility of arranging an alliance with the State Department in the handwritten Whitney to Donovan, 15 January 1942; Whitney to Donovan, ‘Position of British Foreign Office Illustrating Our Relations with State Dept.’, 15 January 1942; Whitney to Donovan, ‘State Department/Joint Intelligence’, 17 January 1942; all in Folder 20, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 31. Donovan for the President, 21 February 1942, frames 578–82, Reel 22, Entry 162, RG 226, NARA. 32. For Roosevelt’s response, see ibid., frame 578; for Marshall’s response, see Folder 21, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263; the Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, called the proposal ‘mostly wild’—see B.F.Smith, Shadow, p. 126; see also Kenneth Young (ed.) The Diaries of Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, Vol. II: 1939–1965 (London: Macmillan, 1980), p. 175, with Lockhart’s 17 July 1942 entry: ‘according to Desmond Morton, who quotes [Ambassador Drexel] Biddle as his authority, the President likes Colonel Donovan, says he must be helped down, but that he is no organiser and is a child in political matters’. 33. Notes by Dick Ellis, McLachlan-Beesly Papers, 6/5, CAC. 34. See ‘History of OSS, Vol. II’, pp. 3, 22–3, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; Troy, Donovan, pp. 129–53. 35. See R.H.Smith, OSS, pp. 163–203; B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 175–6, 184–7, 202–11, 248, 252–3; on SI/SO activities, see Jakub, Spies, pp. 53–66. 36. R.H.Smith, OSS, pp. 163–203; B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 175–6, 184–7, 202–11, 252–3. 37. General Order No. 9 is found throughout the OSS archive, e.g., Folder 489, Box 48, Entry 110, RG 226, NARA. 38. ‘History of OSS, IF, pp. 3, 22–3, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; Vivian Dykes of the British Staff Mission in Washington noted on 4 July 1942, that Donovan’s ideas were ‘a bit too big’ to suit his new [JCS] masters’—Danchev (ed.), Diary of Vivian Dykes, p. 165. 39. ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, OSS/London, Preamble to January 1944, Part IF, pp. 18–19, Folder 38, Box 3, Entry 147; ‘Office of Strategic Services—London’ (mission statement), 24 June 1942, Folder 8, Box 73, Entry 92; Robert Cresswell to Whitney, 2 June 1943, Folder 22, Box 325, Entry 92, all in RG 226, NARA. 40. These observations with reference to Bruce’s correspondence are from Hugh R. Wilson to Donovan, 19 June 1943, Folder 24, Box 334, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 41. David Bruce to Brig.-Gen. J.C.Crockett, 2 August 1943, Folder 535, Box 238, Entry 190; see also Bruce to G.Edward Buxton, 19 June 1943, Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92; both in RG 226, NARA; see also Stewart Alsop and Thomas Braden, Sub Rosa: The OSS and American Espionage (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1964), pp. 31–2.

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42. Memorandum of Meeting, 2 August 1943, with letter, Donovan to Menzies, 31 July 1943, in Folder 33, Box 4, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 43. SI Branch Semi-Monthly Report #15, W.P.Maddox to Bruce, 15 September 1943, in Folder 1, Box 1, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; see also Cecil, ‘“C’s”’, p. 180. 44. ‘Proposed Operations by OSS in the European Theater: Memorandum by the Representatives of the British Chiefs of Staff, n.d. (c. July 1943), Folder 376, Box 227; see also CCS 449, 28 December 1943, frame 1129, and CCS 449/1, 5 April 1944, frame 1130, Reel 4, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 45. Devers to JCS, 6 August 1943, Folder 406, Box 229, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 46. Bruce to G.Edward Buxton, 18 September 1943, Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA; see also Young (ed.), Diaries of Robert Bruce Lockhart, p. 238, with Robert Bruce Lockhart’s prescient 31 May 1943 diary entry stating that OSS ‘is making headway all the time…and is backed by the army chiefs’. 47. Cf. Jakub, Spies, pp. 106–7 48. C.S.Vanderblue to Bruce, 14 August 1943, Folder 429, Box 231, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 49. ‘War Diary, R&A Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 1, Early History’, pp. 10, 12, 16, 87, Reel 3, Entry 91, both in RG 226, NARA; West, Secret War, p. 218, understands the phenomenon, if not its cause; cf. W.T.M.Beale to Bruce and Wilson, 9 September 1942 on the need for greater cooperation between SA/B (later SI) and SA/H (formerly SA/G, later SO) in Folder 18, Box 129, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 50. Lord to Director, OSS, with ‘Hold this for me’ written on it in Donovan’s hand, 13 September 1945, Folder 46b (#1), Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 51. Sir Charles Hambro (‘CD’) to Donovan, 9 September 1942, Folder 196, Box 344, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 52. ‘War Diary, R&A, 1’, p. 87. 53. Ernest Brooks, Jr to Mr Nichols, 18 April 1945, Folder 88, Box 300, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 54. ‘Meeting of London Branch SI to consider operational base in London’, 23 April 1943, Folder 424, Box 319, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 55. Minute, n.d., n.a., presumably by William Phillips, c. early to mid-1943, Folder 538, Box 238, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also Young (ed.), Diary of Robert Bruce Lockhart, p. 191, with Robert Bruce Lockhart’s report of William Wiseman’s views on the permanency of OSS propaganda efforts, 27 August 1942; cf. Robin W.Winks, ‘Getting the Right Stuff: FDR, Donovan, and the Quest for Professional Intelligence’, in George C.Chalou (ed.) The Secrets War: The Office of Strategic Services in World War II, (Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration, 1992), pp. 26–7; see also Kermit Roosevelt, War Report of the OSS (New York: Walker and Company, 1976), pp. 256–7. 56. See Troy, Donovan, pp. 3–21, on pre-OSS American intelligence. 57. Graham T.Allison, Essence of Decision: Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1971), pp. 67, 144, 146, 166–7.

3 Servants of OVERLORD: SO, SI, and the Invasion of Europe

Some of the most significant tests of Anglo-American intelligence relations involved OSS/London’s Special Operations and Secret Intelligence branches. Long before OSS-controlled intelligence and sabotage operatives parachuted into France in 1944 with their Anglo-French compatriots, the major element of Anglo-American cooperation had manifested itself already in the very fact that OSS was ever involved in formulating these schemes. OSS/London’s inclusion during operational planning, and the service’s success in arranging communications with its agents, were the truly noteworthy developments in the SO-SOE and SI-SIS partnerships. While the operatives in the field were primarily concerned with surviving long enough to aid local Allied tactical units, both branches depended on establishing close headquarters’ relations with their British counterparts to the point where each was more fully integrated with its opposite British service than it was with the rest of OSS. SIS and SOE obviously gave strong support to American involvement in the European clandestine war, albeit partly out of self-interest. The British services were clearly loyal, if prudently cautious, allies and partners once they were assured of OSS/London’s sound bureaucratic footing. Equally significant was how much OSS/London’s leadership depended on establishing such close operational alliances. These developments in turn unfolded within the clear context of military primacy, and the creation of meaningful OSS operations for OVERLORD undeniably proved significant to the military campaign in France. The Anglo-American clandestine partnership was geared primarily toward aiding the Allied armies’ return to the continent, with SI, SO, and the British services together hoping to excel at that mission. These operations therefore underscored how Anglo-American intelligence relations were indi visible from the larger military alliance. Whatever the overblown, pervasive American mythology about British intelligence manipulating the Americans in this sphere, OSS was mindful of the requirement to exploit their colleagues’ operationally-orientated corporate spirit, and so impress their own Army high command. The subordination of clandestine action to military utility was accordingly the most critical factor in the AngloAmerican intelligence relationship leading up to OVERLORD, the June 1944 invasion of Normandy.

64 SERVANTS OF OVERLORD

A notable development in OSS/London’s operational evolution was David Kirkpatrick Este Bruce’s appointment as head of the mission (with the eventual title of Strategic Services Officer) at the end of 1942. William Whitney had departed from his post with the transition of COI to OSS, to be replaced by William Phillips on 19 July 1942. Phillips’s tenure until 23 December was notable more for its caretaking of OSS-British relations than it was for any innovations in establishing actual operations.1 Suspected by the British of having operated agents for the US Navy in a manner hostile to British interests (see Chapter 2, p. 52), Phillips was later described by Bruce as being ‘stubborn, opinionated… a loner’, not the best traits for fashioning harmonious partnerships. Upon taking over from Phillips, Bruce moreover found that his predecessor had been running only two (useless) agents, and that both were already known to the incoming Bruce through his British contacts. ‘Phillips was just an amateur who knew nothing’, in Bruce’s blunt appraisal.2 The critical task of furthering ‘liaison contracts’ between the various branches of OSS and their opposite numbers in the British services was in fact executed almost exclusively by the branches themselves. Phillips’s role accordingly involved little liaison contact work. He instead focused on deciding between competing OSS/London claims that occasionally arose for exclusive contact with a single British service.3 Bruce’s December appointment as OSS/London’s head thus marked a turning point. Born to Virginian wealth and privilege, Bruce had served as an enlisted man during the First World War, married into the Mellon family, been elected a State legislator in both Maryland and Virginia, practised law, been Vice-Consul in Rome, and worked with the Red Cross in Britain before the US entered the Second World War.4 His patrician background was obviously suited to easing relations with the British intelligence establishment (SOE/Washington’s Bickham Sweet-Escott described him as ‘one of the ablest Americans’ he had ever met), but Bruce served with OSS for a year before being selected to work in London.5 His first post within OSS was that of overall SA/B branch chief from December 1941, in which capacity he was instructed in espionage tradecraft by MI6’s Dick Ellis. Bruce asked Ellis what to do, and Ellis accordingly instructed him. Bruce later said that SI could not have begun without Ellis, and that Ellis had been instructed to ‘tell all about the British organization’.6 This first-hand tutorial on espionage was probably as professional a background as any available for an OSS officer designated to oversee actual clandestine activities. Despite this, OSS/ London’s initial operational headway would be made with SO, not SI. SO/London pursued negotiations with SOE during the Whitney-Phillips period concerning SO’s involvement in sabotage and subversion. These substantive talks were among the earliest attempts by OSS to forge an Anglo-American working relationship. Discussions were held on 17, 19, 22, and 23 June 1942 to establish SO-SOE collaboration, and to define their respective global ‘spheres of responsibility’. The OSS/ London area of principal concern was western Europe, including France, Germany, the Low Countries, Norway, Switzerland, Poland, and Czechoslovakia. Collaboration recognized two stages—establishing a

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London SO presence to prepare for future operations with the US military, and sending ‘embryonic’ forces to potential invasion targets. It was accordingly agreed that since SOE was already so engaged, it was reasonable in the spirit of avoiding duplication and misunderstandings that any SO activity controlled from London (not Washington) would for the time being fall under SOE direction and supervision. Regional arrangements defining exclusive or joint SO or SOE work would cover those countries and areas not falling within the ‘invasion sphere’, and thus not within any operational military command. Both Donovan and SOE’s Head (‘CD’), Sir Charles Hambro, initialled the agreements, and the American JCS, British COS, and Foreign Office all approved them by the end of August 1942.7 SO and SOE ostensibly carved up their own operational niches with this ‘spheres’ agreement, but in practice it gave approval for SO/ London’s full collaboration with SOE concerning the exchange of information, intelligence, and training methods, thereby conferring considerable legitimacy to SO’s potential. It also placed operational execution firmly within the military leadership’s purview, as SO would join SOE to serve military plans and priorities. Phillips actually emphasized this aspect of SOE’s relationship to the British High Command. He noted the implicit suggestion that OSS develop a similar relationship, thereby putting SO on a more ‘equal footing’ with SOE, and permitting SO-SOE collaboration ‘on any future large-scale operations’.8 David Bruce found upon relieving Phillips and arriving in London in February 1943 that actually creating such a viable SO operational capa bility necessitated considerably more effort than merely signing agreements. Bruce began sending Donovan a series of weekly letters in February describing OSS/London developments, and his letter of 20 March stressed that the ‘[m]ost important’ current objective involved joining SOE on the ‘ground floor’ with their JEDBURGH plan, which SOE considered ‘their most useful potential operation’. Complicating this, however, was the fact that SO was ‘handicapped’ by inadequate supplies, an as yet unfulfilled need for quality recruits, and insufficient SO officers, those already in London being described as ‘hard working but not competent to deal as equals with their opposite numbers— higher leaders in SOE’.9 He wrote further on 10 April that SO’s basic policy question centred on whether it ‘should integrate in effect with SOE’, and so be subordinated to SOE in Europe. Bruce assumed British control over future military invasion operations, and noted the ‘tendency…not only in the military but in the civil sphere, (as represented by the Ambassador), to allow the British to play a predominant part’. It was perhaps largely because of this phenomenon that Bruce considered the SO-SOE partnership to have its attractions. SO’s ‘integration with them and the advantage of their experience’ would enable faster development than otherwise possible without SOE. Equally sobering was that when OSS asked ‘for such facilities as airplanes, we can only describe hopes; the British can point to visible results, plans in being, and personnel in great forces’.10

66 SERVANTS OF OVERLORD

Bruce felt moved on 17 April to ‘clarify and amplify’ his previous suggestion about a ‘complete integration’ of SO with SOE after Donovan responded on 13 April to demand a defence of SO’s independent status as a junior partner with the British service.11 Bruce in fact believed that accepting British command authority would enable SO to ‘infiltrate [its] people actually into the various sections of the SOE organization’. He went on to note that ‘this would give… [SOE] only ultimate authority for leadership; our men would perform certain duties under British command, but at the same time maintain their own offices for purposes of administration and carrying out their other activities’. A further development concerned revising the SO-SOE agreement. Bruce was ‘about to receive a memo from the British on a new and shorter form’ of the June 1942 Donovan-‘CD’ spheres agreement since the original had ‘become so overlaid by various notations and subsequent conversations that it is almost impossible to decide from the written record where the two organizations stand’. A clearer understanding with SOE was desired given the prospective creation of a joint Anglo-American invasion staff with a British head (Major-General Frederick Morgan) and an American deputy (Brigadier-General Barker). Bruce had already informed Barker of the SO-SOE arrangement, discovering that Barker knew well SOE’s Major-General Colin Gubbins (responsible for liaison with SO). Barker agreed that this was desirable, and felt ‘that SO should concede leadership to SOE with the understanding that this authority would be revoked if and when supreme command of an invasion were transferred to American forces’. Barker further suggested that SO ‘should request permission simultaneously from the new joint staff for the Jedburgh plan’.12 Notwithstanding the acceptance of SO by the high-ranking officers of what would become the Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Commander (COSSAC), Bruce’s reliance on SO-SOE integration must also have been affected by the aforementioned tendency for American officials to defer to British capabilities. It has been seen earlier how General Devers, commanding US Army forces within the theatre, was notorious for this propensity. Bruce informed Donovan on 29 May that Devers worried about OSS/London operations ‘tangling with British arrangements’. Bruce detailed Devers’s intention ‘to adhere strictly to the Eisenhower policy [as Commanding General, ETOUSA in 1942] of not conflicting with anything the British do, but to cooperate and use British facilities’. Bruce understandably found this attitude ‘somewhat disturbing’.13 It was nevertheless a reality which could not be ignored, particularly as OSS was designated a fully military detachment subject to military control on 4 June 1943.14 The ensuing drama of OSS/London securing British backing to convince the JCS and Devers of OSS/London’s utility has already been detailed (see Chapter 2, pp. 57–9), and the impact of this development on SO’s fortunes was soon clear. Bruce informed Donovan on 23 August that the Theater Commander would ‘back up [OSS] on [its] joint operations (Jeds, etc.)’, but perversely complained that ‘the trouble is that both the theater and the British expect us to

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produce 100 French speaking American Army officers out of a hat like so many rabbits’.15 By 4 September, Bruce was less irked. ‘MIRABILE DICTU! There seems to have been during the last fortnight a complete change of atmosphere in our relations with the Theater Commander. We only have to ask for something; it is granted…[Everything has been approved, everything is smooth.’16 The American military’s support enhanced SO’s ability to function meaningfully with SOE, particularly as Major-General Gubbins replaced Hambro within a week of Bruce’s ecstatic letter to Donovan. This ‘shift’ from a civilian to a military ‘CD’ was taken by Bruce to be consistent with SOE’s increasing ‘militarization’.17 The most obvious operational rationale for this was the formulation of the JEDBURGH plan, alluded to above. Named after an abbey town in the Scottish Borders, this plan was designed to utilize French Resistance forces to assist in the invasion of Normandy.18 SOE tested the concept of ‘direct British aid to resistance’ in March 1943 during exercise SPARTAN in western England. This scenario demonstrated the potential of employing ‘Allied teams to organize resistance behind the lines’ as coordinated with Army plans by staff detachments. The exercise’s lessons were discussed over the following two weeks in meetings between SOE and SO representatives at Norgeby House (across from SOE’s 64 Baker Street headquarters in London). Their conclusions were then submitted in a draft memorandum dated 18 March detailing how SOE cooperation with conventional military forces could complement the invasion of Europe, which would in turn serve as the basis for subsequent SO-SOE operational planning. In securing personnel for JEDBURGH, SO/London drafted another paper stressing the opportunity for ‘a definite American contribution’ to OVERLORD’s resistance programme. This was submitted to the CG, ETOUSA on 23 April, with his approval following on 29 August.19 The dual requirements of reaching agreement with SOE on incorporating SO within its ‘militarized’ OVERLORD plans, and securing the American Theater Commander’s support of OSS/London in general, thus converged by autumn 1943. This situation was, as might be expected, paralleled in SI. That branch first discussed the prospect of collaborating with SIS and Free French intelligence in autumn 1942, but progress on that front had been precluded by the restrictions placed on OSS/London’s freedom to engage in espionage by the US military.20 SIS was not prepared to interfere in what it considered a purely American jurisdictional dispute.21 SI/London was therefore restricted to performing its original COI function of ‘collection of intelligence through liaison’ with the British and other allied services, with a complement of two SI officers, Whitney Shepardson and William Maddox. Shepardson in fact met the British JIC’s chairman, Victor Cavendish-Bentinck in summer 1942, whereupon CavendishBentinck ‘in most generous fashion…put before [Shepardson] examples of many kinds of British SIS intelligence intake and told [Shepardson] that he might regularly receive any or all of these categories of intelligence’.22 In light of the uncertainty about its own status with the American military, however, and its own paucity of resources, OSS/London harboured doubts about

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MI6’s receptivity to a more active operational role for SI. It has been shown earlier how SIS in fact desired guarantees as to the permanency of OSS before agreeing to completely joint operations (Chapter 2). SI/London’s head actually knew in 1942 that the US military’s restrictions on OSS were ‘a mistaken consideration on their part, inasmuch as British SIS was itself prepared to regard… [SI] as its “opposite number”’.23 Such matters were further exacerbated by US military intelligence interference in OSS relationships with exile intelligence services, and with SI’s receipt of SIS material.24 These facts combined with the restrictions placed on SI espionage by US military intelligence to make the US Army G-2 contingent in London potentially responsible for both American espionage and for working with SIS. The question of OSS status therefore developed in tandem with the formulation of plans for joint clandestine operations. By 10 April, Bruce notified Donovan of an SI/London plan developed by Stacey Lloyd for the infiltration of uni-formed two-man teams to transmit military intelligence.25 The requirements for staff, training, potential agents, and more SI personnel to liaise with foreign services were communicated to Donovan two weeks later, and Bruce assured Donovan on 24 May that the SISIS relationship continued satisfactorily despite OSS/London’s uncertain position. He further told one OSS/Washington officer that SI/London ‘was in the best possible standing, thanks to Whitney [Shepardson, presumably] and the continuation of his work and contacts’.26 The Devers episode then intervened, with Bruce informing Donovan on 29 May about the Theater Commander’s deference to British intelligence. This was all the more disheartening as Bruce outlined in the same letter the encouragement he had received directly from ‘C’ to arrange the assignment of SI officers for ‘staff intelligence and secret intelligence duties to be trained before invasion’, with SIS providing assistance to SI groups at Army HQs ‘as long as their presence was desirable’. There was also a ‘tentative suggestion… by “C” that French operations be conducted jointly by SIS’ and OSS along with the French. Bruce understandably noted his unhappiness with the idea of being denied the Theater Commander’s permission to move along such lines, especially since SIS ‘made it clear that no further consideration’ could be given to joint operations until OSS/London in fact obtained ‘the Theater Commander’s official authorization to proceed’. This was all particularly galling since Bruce was mindful of the need to change over OSS/ London’s functions from liaison to operations, and because effective BroadwaySi planning for an SIS operation similar to the Lloyd proposal, code-named SUSSEX, was proceeding smoothly.27 With the successful resolution of OSS/ London’s standing, Bruce was able to inform Donovan on 28 August that the Theatre Commander’s intelligence staff was ‘disposed to cooperate fully in the activation of approved SI…plans’, thereby permitting SI to exploit its budding operational links with SIS.28 A tripartite SUSSEX committee was soon formed on 4 January 1944 to oversee planning, training, etc., consisting of MI6’s Commander Kenneth Cohen as chairman, with SI’s Lieutenant-Colonel Francis P.Miller and a Lieutenant-Colonel from French intelligence.29

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Broadway’s support did not mean that SI was beyond attributing obstructionist tendencies to SIS as a whole.30 One faction within SI/ London insisted on blaming ‘some’ SIS officials for trying to curb SI’s activities, which does not entirely square with the record of SIS support offered by ‘C’ for OSS over Devers, and for an SI role in OVERLORD in conjunction with SIS itself.31 One SI analysis subsequently noted that ‘[w]hile some [MI6] officers were apparently motivated only by a reasonable desire that there should be no crossing of wires caused by American activities in territory already entered by the British’, other unnamed ‘Britishers evidently were anxious to maintain complete control of all intelligence activities in Western Europe’.32 This must be contrasted with Bruce’s March 1943 report to Donovan that no recommendation from Major-General George Strong (of US Army G-2) would likely have any influence with ‘C’, and the fact that ‘C’ later rebuffed Strong’s attempt to involve G-2 in counter-intelligence work in favour of OSS/London (see Chapter 7).33 One important detail may have been noted by SI’s Whitney Shepardson: the intense mutual hostility between French and British intelligence. Because SI had ‘excellent relations with both’ British and French services, SI’s position between the two may have complicated matters.34 David Schoenbrun’s Soldiers of the Night quotes Bruce’s observation that Menzies ‘was favourably disposed’ toward OSS, ‘but his deputy, Claude Dansey, a crusty old curmudgeon who…did everything he could—and it was quite a bit—to sabotage [OSS/ London’s] relationship [with the French] and [OSS/London’s] plans to set up American teams for France’.35 Menzies’s personal assistant also suggests that Dansey was overtly hostile toward SOE, OSS, and the French intelligence service, BCRA.36 SI’s conflict with Dansey personally over French overtures to SI would thus seem to be the source of any SI-SIS friction, rather than some institutional desire by SIS to thwart or control OSS (see Chapter 2 for more on Dansey, pp. 57–8). In any event, SOE-SO joint subversive operations within the JEDBURGH scheme, and SIS-SI joint intelligence operations within the SUSSEX formula, were worked out from the end of August 1943 onwards. The defining elements of these partnerships were from the beginning the essentially smooth integration of the American intelligence and sabotage branches with their British opposite numbers, and the often intense SO-SI rivalry within OSS that mirrored the illfeeling between SOE and SIS. The nature of this situation may be gleaned from the diary of George E.Brewer, Jr, alternately SO/London’s Acting Chief, Executive Officer, and officer in charge of country house installations. Brewer himself betrayed one source of the rivalry: Think [SI’s William P.] Maddox has a tendency to be touchy on matters of SI prestige vs. SO—rivalry must not develop between branches but it is a slight danger. I will ask all our Branch to be both tactful and cooperative with SI. There is one point, however, that should be recognized by M[addox] and D[avid] B[ruce]: SI exists as a service branch (tho by no means

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exclusively for SO). SO is not; it is an operative branch. The sanctity of our respective files and the degree of freedom with which we exchange information is governed by different necessities. Such an artificial distinction could hardly grease the wheels for interbranch collaboration regarding planning, coordinating field operations, joint liaison with the military, information exchanges, intelligence sharing, and the economical use of personnel and resources. The entire prospect of SI/London engaging in SUSSEX particularly vexed Brewer, who described SI’s intentions as ‘a thoroughly crack pot action program’ that could interfere with the JEDBURGH plan, particularly with regard to recruiting wireless operators. Brewer informed Bruce on 26 April 1943 of his certainty that ‘confusion, wastage of common resources, etc.’ would result if SI carried on. While Bruce apparently saw Brewer’s point, he remained ‘fundamentally unsympathetic’ to Brewer’s ‘desire to curtail the activities of SI which appear[ed] to [Brewer] to be operational rather than concerned with Intelligence’. Even after meeting with SI officers on 30 April to clarify their operation, Brewer and other SO men still concluded ‘that SI had completely overstepped themselves and the only excuse for their pursuing their plan at all was one of politics, namely that by performing this particular service for the Army, the Army might be more inclined to grant us favors in the future’.37 This friction contrasted strongly with the apparently warm SO-SOE relationship as personified by SOE’s liaison officer, who Brewer described as a most likable and frank person…always willing to acknowledge the justice of events and facts…[with] no sense of false pride whatever either in his organization or in a British point of view. I think we understand each other perfectly and as long as he is in the picture in his present capacity there should never be a serious misunderstanding with Baker Street and ourselves on any subject. Brewer further described his SOE counterparts as men who ‘all impressed [him] as being the highest type of honorable and loyal officers who are playing absolutely square with [SO] in every particular’, whereas when SO officers were briefed on North African operations by SOE’s Douglas Dodds-Parker, he referred to one OSS officer in that theatre as being ‘more an SI than an SO man’, thus confirming Brewer’s ‘suspicions that he had never really been sold on the SO gang’.38 Brewer’s observations clearly indicate that SOE-SIS fragmentation affected the separate planning within OSS for JEDBURGH and SUSSEX. The sabotage people spoke one another’s language, and saw things in similar terms; likewise for the intelligence services and their operations. The two groups could only speak past one another, and this obviated developing a distinctive, unified American intelligence-sabotage campaign in Europe. Brewer evidently could not

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comprehend the operational dimension of intelligence collection. While having only the highest praise for the judicious and logical temperaments of his SOE counterparts, the SI types were simply not part of the gang. The dominance of Britain’s fragmented intelligence system therefore helps explain why Bruce found himself balanced on ‘a bureaucratic tightrope’ between SIS and SOE in his attempts to get an OSS operational capability off the ground.39 A touch of Anglophilia might also account for the willing American acceptance of British methods as each OSS branch sought to ensure its own standing within the London mission. Brewer was certainly motivated by a natural ambition to achieve operational successes, and jealously guarded his branch’s interests. This in itself merely demonstrates, however, the extent to which OSS/London’s theoretical unity gave way to the force of circumstance, and OSS/London’s weak capacity for centralized direction in the face of outside influences. It also confirms the observation of SOE’s Bickham Sweet-Escott that Anglo-American liaison functioned most effectively in the field, not in Washington. SOE alienated SO/ Washington by withholding information, while SO/Washington refused to learn from SOE’s experience, and generally tried to function without seemingly ‘selling-out’ to the perfidious British, all with little to show for it (OSS/ Washington’s James Grafton Rogers described resenting SOE’s ‘cagey, patronizing interference’ in November 1943). SO/London conversely embraced the chance to work with SOE.40 A critical prerequisite for this ‘separate but equal’ evolution of joint SO-SOE and SI-SIS plans for OVERLORD concerned communications arrangements previously worked out with the British services. Efficient radio communication with the JEDBURGH teams was obviously essential to the plan’s successful execution, centring as it did on the coordination of Resistance forces with the invasion armies. The SUSSEX plan also required secure, reliable communications links, without which the entire attempt to provide timely intelligence from behind German lines would prove impossible. OSS had initially been keen to establish an independent OSS signals set-up in England exclusively for their operations, but by November 1942 they openly conceded that the ‘crowded condition of those parts of the [radio] spectrum reserved for secret communication between England and agents on the continent’ made ‘perfect coordination between stations in England mandatory. Without it the entire secret communications network would be jeopardized.’ SOE had in fact opposed ‘the establishment of an independent American network’ to communicate with SO agents for precisely such ‘technical reasons’ that were undeniably ‘valid’. SIS for its part apparently assumed that OSS would ‘insist upon having [its] own communications system for SI agents on the continent and elsewhere’, which led OSS to believe in November 1942 that SIS would ‘probably make no serious objection should [OSS] seek to establish a small transmitting station for this work in the British Isles’. OSS/London therefore took its SI communications arrangement as a given, while specifically proposing that it should ‘build, equip, staff, and operate’ the third SOE communications

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station scheduled for inclusion in the British communications system, thereby enabling SO to ‘use the entire SOE network for all SO traffic and any other messages [SO] might wish to clear through it in [their] own cipher’.41 MI6’s Controller (of) Special Communications, Colonel R.Gambier-Parry, concurred with this intention and sanctioned allocating unlisted SIS frequencies for exclusive OSS use, provided that OSS agreed to coordinate technical issues with him (such as mast locations and heights, frequencies, contact times and operating procedures) so as to avoid ‘serious disaster’, and ‘undesirable investigation’ from the Radio Security Service. This was promptly accepted by OSS in January 1943, and it ensured ‘the utmost freedom and independence of action’ that OSS/ London desired. OSS communications for OVERLORD duly proceeded from two stations in England: Station CHARLES (SO) at Hurley, and Station VICTOR (SI) at Poundon.42 (It should be noted, too, that the British intelligence Official History states that OSS refused to accept ‘joint codes and a single communications system’ with SIS in January 1943 as this would have permitted SIS knowledge of SI operations without reciprocity, and that SIS lacked confidence in OSS signals security; this assertion is undocumented, but it is presumably drawn from Kermit Roosevelt’s War Report of the OSS, Vol. II).43 Equally crucial for the JEDBURGH/SUSSEX schemes was the creation of SI and SO detachments designed to coordinate the clandestine operations with the armies’ actions in the field. SO concluded early in its JEDBURGH planning that assuring its best assistance for the invasion forces required attaching officers to field army staffs for close work with the staffs’ operational and intelligence divisions. This would facilitate liaison between armies and resistance groups through ‘SOE/SO Headquarters’ in London. The SO detachments would move with the advancing armies, and attempt to inform commanders of resistance group capabilities according to the military’s own operational plans. SO staff members could quickly contact resistance members overrun by the military forces, and funnel information from resistance members or agents, as well as from JEDBURGH teams via SOE/SO HQ, to the armies’ field headquarters. This idea was formalized throughout the spring and summer of 1943, building on a similar proposal from SOE for COSSAC, and approved by the British Chiefs of Staff in July. SI Field Detachments were also planned in conjunction with SUSSEX as linkage between SI/London and the American forces in the field. Planning commenced in summer 1943 with Broadway and G-2. SI units were tasked with channelling secret information from SUSSEX, transmitting information requests from the military to field agents, and processing remaining agents in the SUSSEX pool. They would also recruit agents in the field, and this organization was deliberately modelled on the British SIS team raised to serve the British-Canadian 21st Army Group. The SI Detachment plan was expanded in November 1943 to provide a staff at the American Army Group level as well, and to include the recovery of overrun agents.44 The orientation of both JEDBURGH and SUSSEX planning clearly reflected the primary objective of these projects: to contribute as fully as possible to

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OVERLORD’s successful execution. This objective was the driving force behind the support given to these plans by General Dwight Eisenhower, appointed in January 1944 as Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force. One factor contributing to Eisenhower getting SOE/SO HQ ‘under his wing’ through its subordination to the G-3 (Operations) staff of the Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF, successor to COSSAC), was the question of America’s relationship with the Free French. Prime Minister Churchill had proven a strong backer of the French National Committee of Liberation (FNCL), which Washington officials interpreted as Churchill’s attempt to woo the French for the post-war political end of securing British influence in non-communist Europe. When Eisenhower informed the JCS at the end of January 1944 that he and SHAEF were dependent on SOE for their Resistance policy, he was naturally moved to see the integrated SO-SOE effort (formalized on 24 January) as a means of injecting an American component to Resistance support. By 19 April, a JCS cable informed Eisenhower that ‘an equalization of effort’ in arming the French was required. SO’s potential to help realize that goal was again obvious.45 This clearly helped to counter a January 1944 JCS demand that SO/ London work independently of SOE (the British observed in March that the ‘close coordination’ between SO-SOE did not compromise OSS independence).46 Another reason for Eisenhower to embrace the joint Anglo-American intelligence/sabotage plans stemmed from their potential utility to the conventional invasion forces. More bluntly, Eisenhower’s concern for OVERLORD’s success understandably encouraged a maximum effort of wholesale rail-cuts beyond the original phased programme of JED-BURGH preinvasion sabotage.47 Eisenhower’s recognition that the military would ‘need very badly the support of the Resistance Groups in France’ also helped to overcome his reluctance to mix with the FNCL—he would, in fact, ‘deal with any French body that seem[ed] capable of assisting’ the invasion.48 The work of SO-SOE through JEDBURGH thus fitted precisely into Eisenhower’s calculations of the correlation of forces for OVERLORD, grasping as he was for any possible battlefield advantage available in order to secure his bridgehead. The SUSSEX plan was also geared toward providing timely tactical intelligence for the armies which would be at a premium in the effort to survive the inevitable German counter-attack, let alone to launch an eventual break-out.49 As an integral part of that risky enterprise, the joint SOE/SO Headquarters was renamed Special Forces Headquarters (SFHQ) on 1 May 1944, with training and material preparation proceeding at a rapid pace for executing what was originally conceived as a two-phase plan of sabotage. The first phase would cover the preinvasion (or ‘pre-D-Day’) period, as three-man teams consisting of two officers and a signaller drawn from American, British, and French personnel commenced dropping by parachute immediately before the scheduled invasion date, and continuing thereafter. These JEDBURGH teams would organize French Resistance forces in a general sabotage programme against German military

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installations. The second (or ‘post-D-Day’) phase would begin with the invasion itself, when JEDBURGH teams would coordinate the Resistance forces with allied bombing, attacks against German reserves, and general guerrilla warfare. As noted above, however, the original phased plan was intensified to concentrate on attacks against German communications, particularly rail lines, in order to impede the immediate German reaction to the landings. Throughout these operations, the JEDBURGH teams would be directed from, and report to, SFHQ, which was in turn directly controlled under the aegis of SHAEF’s G-3 (Operations) staff, although the French Resistance forces themselves were placed under the command of the French General Marie-Pierre Koenig by SHAEF on 6 June without consulting SFHQ.50 The first JEDBURGH team dropped into France on the night of 5/6 June, with a total of six teams in the field by the end of the month. Four of these teams (FREDERICK, GEORGE, HAMISH and IAN) contained SO personnel. FREDERICK conducted attacks against enemy communications; HAMISH interfered with troop movements, and arranged reception of supplies; IAN likewise interfered with troop movements, but was effectively uncontrolled due to wireless difficulties; GEORGE was largely thwarted by enemy action, and compromised by an enemy agent among its Resistance colleagues. From July through August, these teams primarily engaged in coordinating general Maquis guerrilla warfare while monitored by Station CHARLES. During the July– September period, they were joined by additional teams, of which GAVIN, HORACE, HILARY, GERALD, RONALD, DOUGLAS II, IVOR, ALEC, LEE, JAMES, ALEXANDER, ANTHONY, and BRUCE contained SO personnel. These new teams further contributed to the guerrilla campaign by organizing the Maquis as reconnaissance, holding, and general nuisance forces despite strained relations with the more action-orientated Special Air Service (SAS) troops, who also fell into organizing Resistance forces (the SAS were primarily designed as raiding forces, whose independent OSS counterparts were the OGs, or Operational Groups). These teams profited from the work of the SO units attached to the field armies, now renamed SF Detachments. The detachments engaged in a considerable amount of personal liaison with Resistance groups encountered by the armies when direction from London proved impracticable. This, in turn, contributed greatly to the further tactical employment of the Maquis in support of immediate military operations, and to their provision of tactical intelligence in the course of their activities. Such support by the SF Detachments proved so popular with the armies that the OSS officers involved could not keep up with the demand.51 The JEDBURGH operations thus helped complicate German attempts to establish set defences against the conventional military forces in what amounted to a tactical, rather than strategic role. The entire Resistance effort in turn tended to exhibit potential beyond that expected before the invasion. The SUSSEX teams’ experiences also evolved beyond original expectations. With three-quarters of the SI/London staff concentrating on SUSSEX, this

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scheme offered OSS its first real chance at contributing substantively to the European intelligence war. SUSSEX in its final form envisaged tripartite cooperation among SIS, SI and BCRA in providing both strategic and tactical intelligence to the Allied armies for OVER-LORD. This intelligence would be collected by 96 agents recruited from a common pool of potential agents drawn from the Free French Army, and dropped into France in two-man teams over the period 9 April–1 September 1944. Half of these observer-signaller teams would be dispatched to locations in the US Army’s area of operations, and controlled by SI through Station VICTOR. These teams would be collectively known as OSSEX. The remaining teams, code-named BRISSEX, would function in the British-Canadian 21st Army Group sector, and be controlled by SIS from its own radio facility in England. SI and SIS would then communicate to SHAEF and the invasion armies the intelligence messages they received from the field. A Pathfinder mission was sent to France in February to make advance security arrangements for the SUSSEX teams in the form of safe landing fields, safe houses and reception committees. By D-Day, there were seven each of the BRISSEX and OSSEX teams in the field providing messages on German military installations and movements. All of their messages were received by the respective SIS and SI radio stations, passed to the respective SIS or SI Operations Rooms, translated and processed (in SI, by their Reports Division), and disseminated to SHAEF and the SI Field Detachments in the American sector. The messages were then passed on to the relevant field army intelligence staffs; copies of each message were subsequently sent by the receiving service (SI or SIS) to its Anglo-French or Franco-American colleagues.52 The OSSEX teams’ most notable coup immediately before and after D-Day involved tracking the Panzer Lehr Division’s movements. By the end of June, 87 reports had been received from the 12 OSSEX teams in contact with Station VICTOR or with monitoring aircraft; 22 messages were disseminated by BRISSEX teams. Eight further OSSEX teams were dropped during July, resulting in 219 messages containing intelligence.53 SI/London disseminations of intelligence to SHAEF graded for reliability indicate a one or two day delay in getting OSSEX material to SHAEF throughout June–August 1944, with most OSSEX messages graded ‘B-2’, as compared to ‘B-3’ for material of SFHQ origin.54 This intelligence effort was well regarded in the field by the 1st US Army, and received an equally positive reception from SHAEF.55 Major-General K.W.D.Strong stated after the war that as SHAEF G-2, secret agents were one of his main sources as his staff made the transition from focusing on strategic intelligence to procuring tactical intelligence. His best sources of tactical intelligence were air reconnaissance supplemented through ‘tie-ins with OSS, SIS, [and] SOE’, with OSS in particular doing a ‘good job’.56 The 21st Army Group’s Brigadier General Staff (Intelligence), E.T.Williams, also valued OSS intelligence on the movement of German armour, whereas British agents were ‘too thin in the south to get this dope’. The ‘[b]ulk of the sources [were] established by the British’, but Williams believed that after OVERLORD,

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‘British sources from [the] agents’ point of view ceased. American sources came alive tactically’, while the British remained the ‘best strategically—[as they were more directly] linked back to London’.57 Williams further wanted an SI Detachment to work with the 21st Army Group because its product ‘was so highly regarded’, compared to the intelligence from the 2nd British Army, which ‘had been unsatisfactory’.58 The SI Field Detachments were critical to the military’s increasingly positive reception toward OSS intelligence work in Normandy (General Sibert, 12th US Army Group G-2, ‘several times expressed satisfaction with work done by [the] 12th Army Group [SI] Detachment’).59 The strategic and operational picture available to the army staffs obviously centered on ULTRA material gleaned from cryptanalysis, and passed to the armies by Special Liaison Units attached to the army field headquarters.60 ULTRA was also useful as a means of selecting correct information from the mass of available material.61 A 1st US Army SLU officer believed that G-2 had to use ‘PW interrogations, P/R and Tac[tical]/R [econnaissance], Signal Intelligence, Agents and Documents, as well as Ultra. No single one is a touchstone and dire results will follow from the notion that Ultra is the only agency which need be studied and believed.’62 One officer attached to SHAEF Air Intelligence stated outright that ‘ULTRA gives merely proper direction and the rest is a matter of applying sound Intelligence procedure’ to the other sources, rather than simply ‘providing conversational titbits for generals’.63 The main relevance of OSSEX-generated information was therefore at the immediate tactical level as another valued source of combat intelligence. The SI Field Detachments fulfilled much the same role as an SLU by being a link between SUSSEX intelligence and the field armies, but they were also more closely involved in directing and controlling their own particular assets. The SI Detachments recruited local people as agents without special training for use in ‘shallow infiltration missions to obtain short range tactical intelligence’.64 SIS encountered the same phenomenon, and credited it both to a gap in the British and American armies’ long-range intelligence capabilities, and to their immediate, pressing demands for tactical intelligence.65 This must have contributed to Broadway’s 11 June decision to sanction sending SI-controlled agents to the American zone without formal SIS clearance.66 The commander of the 1st US Army’s SI Detachment ironically took exception to this whole trend, as a dissipation of SI resources at the expense of its ‘proper’ espionage role, although this attitude may have stemmed from the 1st US Army G-2’s personal antipathy toward OSS, which contributed to this detachment eventually moving to the 12th US Army Group HQ.67 The SI Detachment commander’s superiors in London did not concur with his view, however. OSS/London’s Theater Report for 1–15 June 1944 emphasized that: Attention has been directed to possibilities of expanding the number of intelligence producing sources which SI detachments in the field could offer to G-2 in the field. OSS has its greatest opportunity for intelligence

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service when G-2 makes up a list of intelligence requirements in connection with any operation; when the G-2 Operations Section checks over these intelligence requirements, determines those which can be met with air reconnaissance, combat patrols, etc., and finds that some of these requirements cannot be met by any orthodox method. It is on these that OSS should train its intelligence resources.68 This hard reality was brought home even more by David Bruce himself two weeks later: During the past week, Colonel Bruce visited the lodgment area and returned with several distinctive impressions which may be summarized as follows: Regardless of the value of the contribution that OSS has made in the past, or will continue to make in the field of Strategic or long-range intelligence and operations, from now on OSS’ [sic] reputation and prestige will be considerably affected by the success obtained by its field units in achieving the tactical desires of army commanders. This is in large part due to the fact that those field commanders whose word will mean much concerning the value of any given components of the military organization will have small appreciation of long-range activities of OSS, but they are likely to have definite opinions concerning the operations of our field units. OSS is therefore in a position where it must give full support to its field units, even though they may have been considered as subsidiary and incidental to the long-range activities of the organization.69 (Bradley Smith credits Donovan for pushing this agenda throughout 1944, but the documents obviously show how this was only realized after D-Day, and by Bruce and other officers.)70 For their part, the American military concluded that agents’ reports were of particular use, fourth in priority to the more immediate means of PW interrogation, PR, and SIGINT. The 3rd US Army G-2 believed that [t]he OSS Detachment was an agency of wide versatility and great value. Under aggressive and cooperative leadership, and functioning in close coordination and confidence, it executed a wide range of important missions, from procuring of information of enemy forces, defenses and movements behind his lines, to preparing economic and political surveys of areas under enemy control… It contributed vitally to effective combat intelligence and in a number of cases was the sole source of information upon which tactical decisions could be based. From the Army point of view, under proper leadership, it was indispensable.

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American military intelligence further conceded that there was ‘universal agreement on the need of personnel trained in espionage to work with the field armies, and OSS received nothing but praise for its work in establishing the network of agents which furnished considerable valuable intelligence’ before OVERLORD.71 The SI Detachments’ position, like that of OSS as a whole concerning OVERLORD, bore out the advice tendered by a former SHAEF liaison officer to his replacement. ‘My main hint is not to be a Fuller Brush man. Bother people as little as possible and ONLY when you have something that will help them. Be on top, but never underfoot. Then, when you do need them, your credit will be good.’72 By so acting, OSS came into its own as a result of JEDBURGH and SUSSEX, and their utility to SHAEF and the American armies. OSS intelligence efforts soon came to outstrip MI6’s capabilities as SI built on the particular success of its OSSEX programme. It has been noted above how SIS-controlled agents dried up after D-Day, and SIS apparently found itself unable to cope with the requirements of documenting their existing agents due for insertion. The OSS/London Research and Development Branch War Diary details how between 1–15 August, their SIS counterparts could not keep up the flow, apparently due to their ‘shockingly meagre budgets and apparatus compared with [R&D’s]’, and requested that R&D come to their rescue.73 SI, in contrast, was able to follow up on SUSSEX with a wholly independent OSS project run along SUSSEX lines, code-named PROUST. Donovan had suggested the preceding February that SI create a reserve agent pool in preparation for any eventualities which might arise after D-Day. A total of 43 French agents were dispatched throughout July to midSeptember grouped into seven missions which continued providing tactical intelligence with mixed success due to bad luck, and to the teams being overtaken by rapidly advancing military forces. SOE and SO for their part wound down their JEDBURGH operation together on 13 October after their own subordination to the main military effort.74 The Normandy campaign’s conclusion at the end of August 1944 marked the terminal point to an experience that saw SI and SO finally act on the months of dealing and planning for a US role in the intelligence and sabotage war. Those experiences highlighted just how much the intelligence war had evolved into an auxiliary of the main effort, rather than as a ‘fourth arm’. This held true as much for the other components of the Allied intelligence arsenal as for OSS. ULTRA could not itself stand as the sole basis of Allied intelligence in Normandy, in spite of ‘Hut 3 [at GCHQ] mak[ing] a fetish of not considering any other source’.75 Nor could the military HQs jeopardize the successful execution of OVERLORD by ignoring the secret services’ contribution. The military bore the responsibility for the main effort, and everything was subordinated to supporting it. Independent agents waging their own strictly cloak-and-dagger war were irrelevant to that reality. The intelligence war now mattered only insofar as it furthered the supreme operation of 1944. SHAEF embraced the potential of the clandestine intelligence and sabotage services precisely in those terms, and the

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armies in the field quickly came to rely on them to fill a real gap in their intelligence capabilities, and to augment the conventional forces with the widespread harassment factor embodied in the Resistance.76 The relevance of the Anglo-American secret services was therefore directly proportionate to their ability to serve SHAEF and the armies. SIS and SOE were as heavily invested in the successful execution of that mission as were SI and SO. SOE was driven to validate the entire concept of sabotage and resistance as a ‘fourth arm’, while SIS had with SUSSEX its only real prospect of redeeming itself for past operational shortcomings with some tangible successes in the field. That SI outstripped its British counterpart, and SO kept pace with the numerically superior SOE, were achievements made possible by the British services’ obvious support of OSS. Both SIS and SOE gave their support to their American colleagues as OSS secured the authority to act from its own theatre command, and as certain unavoidable technical prerequisites, such as communications and personnel, were met. That the British did so testifies to their whole approach toward working with OSS. Each British service paired off with the OSS branch most similar to itself, and supported what would presumably be a junior partner that would probably enhance the viability of JEDBURGH or SUSSEX with its modest contribution. It may also have been considered politic to involve OSS fully with British plans in keeping with the corporatism of the entire OVERLORD enterprise. As events unfolded, however, SI and SO surpassed all expectations, and delivered what the military desired. Both branches proved better able to adapt and respond to evolving circumstances, and their focus on doing so was not an indication of a minimalized anti-climactic role, but a recognition of what was required from intelligence as supporting players.77 These two branches’ successes were simultaneously facilitated, and complicated, by their relationship with the British services. The support of SIS and SOE was of paramount importance to the survival and evolving credibility of OSS in the face of persistent scepticism from the American military. At no time did SIS or SOE seek to curtail the growth of OSS, whatever the suspicions of some within SI, or whatever inevitable personality clashes occurred. The British in fact fostered OSS. SI and SO moreover owed their involvement in OVERLORD to their being permitted to fuse with their counterparts in what were really the only viable clandestine programmes that OSS could have hoped to participate in, much less develop on its own, whatever premature pretensions Donovan in particular harboured about ‘independent’ SI espionage launched from Britain. What must also be conceded, though, is the fact that OSS did not participate in OVERLORD as a coherent entity. It was as fragmented as the British intelligence community, and in fact suffered from the same rivalries and infighting as the British. George Brewer’s diary particularly illuminates the institutional parochialism involved, while Bruce’s correspondence further underscores the reality that the branches had to forge their own relationships with the individual British services to make any headway. The evolution of SUSSEX

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and JED-BURGH therefore had to overcome the competition tolerated within the British system, thus nullifying the presumed advantage of a unified intelligence service supposedly embodied by OSS. The classic manifestation of this was SI’s opposition to SO disseminating intelligence obtained from the Resistance; ‘SIS continues to disseminate its own reports and interpretations of Resistance independent of SOE. Since SIS preserves its freedom as an intelligence agency, SI must retain a similar right on the American side.’78 It is moreover clear in retrospect that this fragmentation prevented the clandestine services from making an even greater contribution to OVERLORD than was in fact the case. It obviously precluded contemplating, much less developing, a unified secret service HQ that could oversee both SUSSEX and JEDBURGH; it ruled out the possibility of having a joint SI/SF Detachment with each army HQ; and it certainly prevented a unity of effort in the field between the SFHQ-controlled Resistance, and the SUSSEX intelligence gatherers. It is not unreasonable to hold that a truly coordinated clandestine programme could have provided even better support for the military. It is undeniable, though, that cooperation between functionally identical services—SI with SIS, SO with SOE—was as far as unity of effort could go. Functional loyalties thus took precedence over national ones. SI and SIS could fuse more effectively than either could with their own national sabotage service (William Phillips characterized this phenomenon as SO and SOE working ‘jointly’, while SI and SIS worked on ‘parallel lines’).79 The popular mythology about British intelligence colouring most interpretations of OSS/London’s evolution are accordingly rooted in some fundamental misconceptions about the outstation’s imperatives. The patrician background of OSS/London’s hierarchy, particularly as embodied by David Bruce, is granted pride of place in explaining Anglo-American intelligence harmony. Bruce’s ability to mix in the British establishment’s Savoy/White’s milieu is often presumed to have been a prerequisite for creating a sound, even like-minded, relationship with British services keen to see OSS evolve under their thumbs. By projecting the correct image, the Americans were able to secure British tutelage and subsequently bloom to assume the British espionage mantle. The quality of life that Bruce and his British counterparts enjoyed is certainly spelled out in Bruce’s wartime diary, with constant references to his fine dining experiences.80 Bruce further wrote Donovan in March 1943 to request (unsuccessfully, it seems) getting on the US Embassy’s ‘Diplomatic List’ in order to obtain liquor ‘necessary’ for the arduous, ‘continuous entertaining that the men in [Bruce’s] office [were] obliged to do to maintain and open up relationships…profitable to [OSS/London’s] work’.81 Reality was nevertheless quite different. Clubability and establishment credentials counted for very little as long as the US military remained wary of OSS abilities. The British were moreover guided primarily in their approach to OSS wartime operations by their own strained resources, not by a cunning desire to ‘control’ American intelligence. The British supported SI and SO because of what the Americans could offer to the success of JEDBURGH and SUSSEX, not because the

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Americans presented an acceptable establishment face. While OSS alumnus Donald Downes later castigated the British for the sins of cynicism and perfidious manipulation at the expense of OSS innocence and incompetence in the ‘Great Game’, his disillusioned portrait is unconvincing. Downes had no conception of the importance of the military context to Anglo-American clandestine operations, particularly as related to the pressing need for OSS to win favour with its high command (if anything, his portrait of 1943 OSS relations with SOE in the Mediterranean underscores the British wariness about OSS involvement when OSS lacked the backing of its high command, in that instance Eisenhower). Where Downes saw conflicting Anglo-American politics being played out in the intelligence arena, there was really confusion about capabilities, aims, authority, and military utility. Such confusion developed in London, but the primacy of OVERLORD and SHAEF made the British support full OSS participation in clandestine operations. The influence of British fragmentation may have prevented OSS from demonstrating centralization, but it certainly never prevented OSS from making the most of its opportunities, opportunities largely based on the pragmatism of the British connection.82 SI and SO accordingly forged a much-desired OSS operational spearhead through their participation in OVERLORD where their operations made a useful contribution to the Normandy campaign after winning the US military’s support. This required functionally integrating US activities with those of their British counterparts, and so demonstrated a positive result from the Anglo-American intelligence relationship. It may still be seen, though, that this was at the expense of realizing the OSS potential for a coordinated effort that may, in turn, have realized the presumed advantage inherent in the ostensibly unified American service. As events unfolded, such a realization only developed in the closing months of the war. Besides centralization, another supposed OSS innovation involved more cerebral weapons, subsequently described as the intellectual equivalent of the Manhattan Project. While this component of OSS/London ambitiously sought to bring its particular capacity for using the fruits of intelligence to bear on the war effort with as much enthusiasm as the most daring JEDBURGH operative, the extent to which it merits such a historical reputation is another matter.83 NOTES 1. ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, OSS/London, Preamble to 1 January 1944’, pp. 4, 28–9, Folder 991, Box 69, Entry 148, RG 226, NARA. 2. Thomas Troy interview with Bruce, 30 December 1972, Folder 56, Box 7, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 3. ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, Preamble’, pp. 28–9. 4. See Lankford (ed.), Diaries of David K.E.Bruce, pp. 1–15, and n.d., n.a., biographical details in Folder 147, Box 97, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; note also that SA/B was later renamed SI.

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5. Bickham Sweet-Escott, Baker Street Irregular (London: Methuen, 1965), p. 133. 6. Troy interview with Bruce; see also Bruce’s report, The Functions and Requirements of SAB London’, 12 August 1942, Reel 88, Entry 180, RG 226, NARA. 7. This paragraph is drawn from the narrative of ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, Preamble’, pp. 24–6. 8. Ibid., p. 26; for the text of the SOE/SO agreement, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, Vol. 12’, pp. 16–31, in OSS/London, Reel 6. 9. Bruce to Donovan, 20 March 1943, frame 98, Reel 39, Entry 95; summarized in ‘Notes on Colonel Bruce’s Correspondence with General Donovan, February 13– December 17 1943’, in Folder 376, Box 227, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 10. Bruce to Donovan, 10 April 1943, frames 111–12, Reel 39, Entry 95, summarized in ‘Notes on Bruce’s Correspondence’, in Folder 376, Box 227, Entry 190; see also George S. Brewer, Jr, Diary, 7 April 1943, Folder 4, Box 178, Entry 92; all in RG 226, NARA; SO participation in SOE sabotage circuits began in July 1942, but only on a small scale—see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 3, Western Europe’, pp. 12–13, in Bradley F.Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, Vol. 5: Other OSS Teams (New York: Garland, 1989). 11. Draft of ‘War Diary, Strategic Services Officer, OSS/London, Relations with the British’, pp. 11–12, Folder 38, Box 3, Entry 147, RG 226, NARA; Donovan later stated explicitly to SOE on 26 July 1943 that he supported an integrated SOE-OSS team in France—see M.R.D.Foot, ‘The OSS and SOE: An Equal Partnership?’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 298; Bruce to Donovan, 17 April 1943, ‘Notes’; and frames 115–17, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 12. Bruce to Donovan, 17 April 1943—Bruce to Donovan, 13 February 1943, frame 76, Reel 39, shows that Barker had been keen on SO operations on a scale that they simply could not yet meet; see also Brewer Diary, 3, 9, 12, 15 and 27 April 1943; all in RG 226, NARA. 13. Bruce to Donovan, 29 May 1943, ‘Notes’; and frames 144–5, Reel 39, Entry 95; see also Brewer Diary, 26 March 1943; draft of ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, OSS/London, Preamble to 1 January 1944’, p. 12, Folder 248, Box 220, Entry 190, all in RG 226, NARA. 14. ‘Military Control of the Office of Strategic Services’, 3 June 1943, in ‘War Diary, SO, Vol. 12’, p. 51. 15. Bruce to Donovan, 23 August 1943, ‘Notes’; and frame 178, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 16. Bruce to Donovan, 4 September 1943, ‘Notes’; and frame 185, Reel 39, Entry 95; this change included approval for obtaining sufficient personnel for the projected operations—see draft of ‘War Diary, Director’s Office’, pp. 65–7, Folder 39, Box 3, Entry 147; all in RG 226, NARA. 17. Bruce to Buxton, 13 September 1943, Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 18. Jedburgh is properly pronounced to rhyme with ‘Edinburgh’, rather than with ‘iceberg’; Bruce first referred to ‘Jedburgh’ teams being tested during an exercise held in the first week of March, presumably SPARTAN—see Bruce to Donovan, 8 March 1943, ‘Notes’, and frame 92, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 19. See ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 2, Planning’, pp. xx–xxvii, in OSS/ London, Reel 1; see also Brewer Diary, Notes on Meeting of SO officers, 22 March 1943; on SPARTAN and after, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 4,

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20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26.

27.

28. 29.

30.

31. 32.

33. 34.

Books 1 and 2, Jedburgh Teams’, pp. x–xvi, in Bradley F.Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, Vol. 3: OSS Jedburgh Teams I (New York: Garland, 1989); the Minutes for COSSAC Staff Conference, 2 July 1943, WO 219/588, PRO note that ‘the possibilities of SOE action should be constantly borne in mind during planning’; see J.R.M. Butler, Grand Strategy, Vol. III, June 1941–August 1942, part ii (London: HMSO, 1964), pp. 517–18, on how the entry of the US into the war changed SOE’s role. See ‘OSS London, June 1942–December 1942’, Notes by Whitney S.Shepardson, September 1959, Folder 48, Box 119B, Donovan Papers, USAMHI. Bruce to Donovan, 8 March 1943, frame 92, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. See Shepardson notes, September 1959, Folder 48, Box 119B, Donovan Papers; Bruce report on ‘SAB London’, 12 August 1942, names the two SA/B-SI officers, and emphasizes London’s limited liaison role to date; Bruce to Donovan, 27 February 1943, frame 87, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA, states that CavendishBentinck was ‘satisfied in every respect with the relationships that he has had with OSS’. Shepardson notes. Ibid. Bruce to Donovan, 10 April 1943, frames 111–12, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. Bruce to Donovan, 24 April and 24 May 1943, frames 120–3, 139–42, Reel 39, Entry 95; Bruce to Francis P.Miller, 29 April 1943, Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92; both in RG 226, NARA. Bruce to Donovan, 29 May 1943, frames 144–5; on smooth SUSSEX planning, Bruce to Donovan, 3 July 1943, frames 165–8; 14 August 1943, frames 173–4; 23 August 1943, frame 178; and 28 August 1943, frame 182; all in Reel 39, Entry 95; ‘tentative suggestion’ and US military intelligence obstruction of SI in ‘SUSSEX: Developments as shown in Progress Reports’, 16 October 1944, Folder 556, Box 240, Entry 190; all in RG 226, NARA. Bruce to Donovan, 28 August 1943. See Miller’s note to Cohen thanking him for his ‘season ticket’ to Broadway (i.e., his pass), 18 January 1944, Folder 242, Box 308, and Miller to Maddox, report on SUSSEX management, 14 April 1944, Folder 475, Box 234, both in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. See the draft ‘War Diary, Strategic Services Officer, Relations with the British’, p. 24; ‘War Diary, SI Branch, Vol. 1’, pp. 15–16, 23–5 (which alternately suggests SIS was reluctant to help SI, and that SI had nothing to offer SIS in exchange for the British help). See ‘War Diary, SI Branch, Vol. 3’, pp. 3–5, 25–7. ‘SUSSEX: Developments as shown in Progress Reports’; see also SI Branch SemiMonthly Report #11, 15 July 1943, Folder 1, Box 1, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. Bruce to Donovan, 8 March 1943; and Bruce to Donovan, 14 August 1943. Shepardson notes; Shepardson’s recollection is confirmed by ‘The Relations of OSS to the Free French BCRA, and to British Broadway’, 26 August 1942, Folder 451, Box 320, Entry 190, and Bruce to Donovan, 27 March 1943, frame 102, Reel 39, Entry 95, which remark on the mutual suspicion between SIS and the French, both in RG 226, NARA.

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35. David Schoenbrun, Soldiers of the Night: The Story of the French Resistance (New York: E.P.Dutton, 1980), p. 295; see also pp. 296, 330. 36. Cecil, ‘“C’s”’, pp. 172, 180; R.H. Smith, OSS, p. 172 presumes, rather than proves, Dansey’s culpability. 37. Brewer Diary, 27 March; 24, 26, 30 April 1943—some notes on Brewer’s journal are in Folder 343, Box 224, Entry 190; a number of memoranda concerning SO’s hostility to the Lloyd plan are to be found in Folder 3, Box 347, Entry 92 (for Lloyd’s plan, and the covering letter, J.M.Scribner to Donovan, 17 March 1944, outlining the objections of SO officers), and in Folder 188, Box 343, Entry 190 for comments and counter-comments by Lloyd and Brewer, all in RG 226, NARA. 38. Brewer Diary, 9, 10 April; 3 May 1943; Dodds-Parker further stated on 3 May that the ‘combination of SO/SOE seemed to be headed for a joint operation’ in North Africa ‘in exactly the same way’ as being planned in London. 39. Tightrope’ from William R.Corson, The Armies of Ignorance: The Rise of the American Intelligence Empire (New York: The Dial Press/James Wade, 1977), p. 195. 40. Sweet-Escott, Baker, pp. 138, 145–6, 153; Thomas F.Troy (ed.), Wartime Washington: The Secret OSS Journal of James Grafton Rogers, 1942–1943 (Frederick: University Publications of America, 1987), entry for 18 November 1943, p. 175. 41. ‘Confidential Memorandum For Colonel Donovan’ regarding ‘Communication by radio from England with secret agents in Europe’, attached to memos, Donovan to Col Gambier-Parry, to Sir Charles Hambro, to Capt. Louis Huot, and to Lt-Gen. D.D. Eisenhower, CG, ETOUSA, all 25 November 1942, all in ‘War Diary, Communications Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 7, Basic Documents’, Reel 1, Entry 91, RG 226, NARA. 42. Col R.Gambier-Parry to Capt. L.Huot, 6 January 1943; Huot to Gambier-Parry, 9 January 1943, both in ‘War Diary, Communications Branch, 7’; Gambier-Perry’s cooperation and unlisted SIS frequencies for OSS from draft narrative ‘Headquarters Communications Branch London’, pp. 2–7, Folder 97, Box 4, Entry 103; see also note on 12 October 1942 meeting with Gambier-Parry, and letters, Huot to Maj. L.W Lowman, 1 and 7 January, and 5 March 1943, Lowman to Huot, 21 January 1943, all in Folder 12, Box 201, Entry 190; for Stations CHARLES and VICTOR and their technical cipher/communications methods, see ‘War Diary, Communications Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 5, Technical Volume’, frames 492– 584, Reel 1, Entry 91; for a schematic of the CHARLES and VICTOR nets with the armies in the field, see frame 1092, Reel 129, Entry 116; see the Minutes of the SI/London meeting concerning the establishment of an operating base, 23 April 1943, Folder 424, Box 319, Entry 190 which concedes that ‘as [the US] had never permitted the British to set up an independent communication system in America, there was justification in their not wishing us to set one up here’; all in RG 226, NARA; for the importance of radio for clandestine programmes, see ‘Resistance Movements in the War’, Lecture by Maj.-Gen. Sir Colin Gubbins, 28 January 1948, pp. 19–24, Document No. 937, Folder 2, Box 5, Donovan Papers, USAMHI; Jørgen Haestrup, European Resistance Movements, 1939–1945: A Complete History (Westport: Meckler, 1981), pp. 384–5. 43. Hinsley, II, p. 53; Kermit Roosevelt’s War Report of the OSS, Vol. II, is previously cited on that page.

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44. ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 5, Army Staffs’, pp. i–viii, in OSS/ London, Reel 5; ‘War Diary, SI Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 5, Field Detachments’, pp. 1–4, in OSS/London, Reel 7; see also material from 29 May 1944, pertaining to the allocation of personnel for SO and SI Detachments, frames 845–70, Reel 18, Entry 162; and the excellent survey (n.d., but presumably pre-OVERLORD) of the purpose, planning, structure, standard procedures, and operational methods of SI Field Detachments contained in Folder 3255, Box 230, Entry 146; see also Standing Operating Procedures of SO and SI Detachments in Folder 432, Box 231, Entry 190; all in RG 226, NARA. 45. Arthur L.Funk, ‘Churchill, Eisenhower, and the French Resistance’, Military Affairs 45, 1 (February 1981), pp. 29–32; ‘War Diary, SO, Vol. 1, Office of Chief, pp. 1–2, 23; see also Fabrizio Calvi, ‘The OSS in France’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 247–8; on British motives in France, see Keith Sainsbury, ‘The Second Wartime Alliance’, in Neville Waites (ed.), Troubled Neighbours: Franco-British Relations in the Twentieth Century (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971), pp. 251–2, and Milton Viorst, Hostile Allies: FDR and Charles de Gaulle (New York: Macmillan, 1965), p. 223; for Roosevelt’s hostility toward the FNCL, see Warren F.Kimball (ed.), Churchill and Roosevelt: The Complete Correspondence, Vol. II: Alliance Forged, November 1942–February 1944 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 255; see Roosevelt’s 12 May 1944 message to Churchill concerning Eisenhower’s authority to deal with the FNCL in Warren F.Kimball (ed.), Churchill and Roosevelt: The Complete Correspondence, Vol. III: Alliance Declining, February 1944–April 1945 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 130; see also the SIS-SOE view in the extract from the 20th Meeting of the ‘FO [SIS]-SOE Committee’, 1 September 1943, Z9717/519/G17, FO 371/36059B, PRO; SHAEF Operational Directive to SOE/SO, 23 March 1943, in ‘War Diary, SO, Vol. 12’, pp. 75–83. 46. JCS demand in JSM Washington-WCO London, JSM 1396, 7 January 1944, WO 193/624; British response in Air Ministry to Britman Washington, COS (W) 1246, 30 March 1944, WO 106/4321; both in PRO. 47. See Kenneth Macksey, The Partisans of Europe in World War II (London: HartDavis, MacGibbon, 1975), pp. 186–7. 48. See Eisenhower’s ‘Secret Memorandum for the Record’, 22 March 1944, in Alfred D. Chandler, Jr, et al. (eds) The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower: The War Years, Vol. III (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1970), pp. 1783–4—see also Viorst, Hostile, pp. 192, 196–7; Robert H.Ferrell (ed.), The Eisenhower Diaries (New York: W.W. Norton, 1981), p. 113; Mark Wheeler, ‘The SOE Phenomenon’, Journal of Contemporary History 16, 3 (July 1981), pp. 517–18; Stephen E.Ambrose, ‘Eisenhower and the Intelligence Community in World War II’, Journal of Contemporary History 16, 1 (January 1981), p. 154; Stephen E.Ambrose, ‘Eisenhower, the Intelligence Community, and the D-Day Invasion’, Wisconsin Magazine of History 64, 4 (Summer 1981), pp. 261–2. 49. See ‘War Diary, SI, Vol. 3’, pp. 19–21 on the utility of SUSSEX; for the fixation on securing the bridgehead, see Russell F.Weigley, Eisenhower’s Lieutenants: The Campaign in France and Germany, 1944–1945 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1981), pp. 49–53, 70–1. 50. ‘War Diary, SO Branch, Vol. 2’, pp. 7–14; ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, OSS/ London, Vol. 1, April–June 1944’, pp. 3–5, Folder 145, Box 211, Entry 190, RG

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226, NARA; see also the chart of OSS Branch relationships with SHAEF, Folder 121, Box 93, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; Macksey, Partisans, pp. 186–7; ‘War Diary, SO Branch, Vol. 1, pp. 26–40; for the ‘Basic JEDBURGH Directive’ of December 1943, see ‘War Diary, SO, Vol. 12’, pp. 36–47; for redesignation as SFHQ, p. 85; on training for JEDBURGH, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/ London, Vol. 9, Training’, pp. i–xiv, 1–33; on supply, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 10, Supply’, pp. i–x, 1–12, Pierre Lorain, Clandestine Operations: The Arms and Techniques of the Resistance, 1941–1944, adapted by David Kahn (New York: Macmillan, 1983), and James D. Ladd, Keith Melton, and Peter Mason, Clandestine Warfare: Weapons and Equipment of the SOE and OSS (London: Blandford Press, 1988); on French Resistance, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 13, Miscellaneous’, pp. 90–5, all in OSS/London, Reel 6; see also Forrest C.Pogue, The Supreme Command (Washington, DC: Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army, 1954), pp. 153–6, and Gordon A.Harrison, Cross-Channel Attack (Washington, DC: Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army, 1951), pp. 198–207. 51. See: Foot, SOE, pp. 30–4, 400–2; ‘War Diary, SO, Vol. 3’, pp. 6, 175–7 (a list of pre-and post-D-Day sabotage is found on pp. 268–79), in B.F.Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, 5; ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 4, Books 1 and 2, Jedburgh Teams’, pp. 17–322, in B.F.Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, 3 ; ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 4, Books 3 and 4, Jedburgh Teams’, pp. 519–861—on relations with SAS, see pp. 502, 567, 574, 578–9; on SAS operations, see Paul McCue, SAS Operation Bulbasket: Behind the Lines in Occupied France, 1944 (London: Leo Cooper, 1996); on tactical versus strategic, see pp. 623, 682, 740, 747, 859; on the air operations for the SO drops, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/ London, Vol. 6, Air Operations’, in OSS/London, Reel 5, as well as Ben Parnell, Carpetbaggers: America’s Secret War in Europe: A Story of the World War II Carpetbaggers 801st/492nd Bombardment Group (H) US Army Eighth Air Force (Austin: Eakin Press, 1987); for Operational Group commando-style, rather than clandestine, activities, see ‘War Diary, SO Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 4-A, Operational Groups’, pp. 2–4, 22–144, in Bradley F. Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, Vol. 4: OSS Jedburgh Teams II (New York: Garland, 1989); ‘War Diary, SO, Vol. 5’, pp. 73–6; see also Overseas Report of Captain Reeve Schley, 27 June 1945, Folder 46b#3, Box 11a, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA, for the observations of an SO officer of the utility of the Maquis to the military, and ‘Phantom Operations in the US Sector, Operation Overlord”’; for general reports on the 1st US Army SF Detachment, see William C.Jackson to Col Haskell, 3 July 1944, Folder 304, and 24 July, with Standing Operating Procedures for the Detachment, Folder 302, both in Box 352, Entry 190; see also Alfred D.Chandler, Jr, et al., The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower: The War Years, Vol. IV (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1970), p. 2101; Fabrizio Calvi, with Olivier Schmidt, OSS—La Guerre Secréte en France: Les Services Speciaux Americains, La Resistance et la Gestapo, 1942– 1945 (Paris: Hachette, 1990); Ambrose, ‘D-Day’, pp. 271–2. 52. ‘War Diary, SI, Vol. 1’, pp. 25–6; ‘War Diary, SI, Vol. 3’, pp. 1–2, 6–11; ‘War Diary, Strategic Services Officer, Relations with the British’, p. 27; on signalprocessing/sharing procedure, see also Miller to Horton, 19 May 1944, and to ACoS, G-2 SHAEF, 30 May 1944, Folder 476, Box 234; Memo, Maj. L.Dups to Maj. Harrison, with attachments, 3 August 1944, Folder 1318, Box 292; and diagrams,

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53.

54.

55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

61. 62. 63.

64.

65. 66. 67.

Folder 1171, Box 280, all in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; G-2 Washington had originally insisted that SI be denied authority to collect tactical intelligence, which affected the deployment of SUSSEX agents deep behind enemy lines—see Minutes, SI Executive Committee, 27 April 1944, Folder 236, Box 18, Entry 168, RG 226, NARA; ‘Elaboration of the Sussex Plan of the Office of Strategic Services’, 2 November 1943, in ‘War Diary, SI Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 11, Basic Documents’, in OSS/London, Reel 8. ‘War Diary, SI, Vol. 3’, pp. 12–14; for the origins of aircraft radio monitoring (code-named ASCENSION), see ‘OSS Activities, January 1944’, regarding SUSSEX in the ETO, Folder 111, Box 91, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. Folders 1027–30, Box 104, Entry 136; SI Field Detachment messages concerning the employment of agents for the armies are in Folder 1222, Box 110, Entry 136; a series of SHAEF information requests for SI dated 28 July, 9 and 15 August are in Folder 325, Box 314, Entry 190; all in RG 226, NARA. ‘War Diary, SI, Vol. 3’, pp. 12–14. Forrest C.Pogue interview with K.W.D.Strong, 12 December 1946, in materials used for The Supreme Command, USAMHI. Forrest C.Pogue interview with Brig. E.T.Williams, 30–31 May 1947, USAMHI. Minutes of Intelligence Committee Meeting, 29 June 1944, Folder 356, Box 226, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. SI London Monthly Progress Report, 31 August 1944, Folder 97, Box 87, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. On the development of SLUs and the military’s use of ULTRA, see ‘Synthesis of Experiences in the Use of Ultra Intelligence by US Army Field Commands in the European Theatre of Operations’, especially pp. 6–13, 24–9, SRH-006, RG 457, NARA. Ibid., p. 20. Memorandum on Ultra Intelligence by Lt-Col A.G.Rosengarten, 1st US Army, 21 May 1945 in PRO 31/20/3, PRO. Memorandum by Lt-Col E.K.Thompson, SHAEF Air Intelligence, 12 May 1945 in PRO 31/20/12, PRO; see also F.W.Winterbotham, The Ultra Secret (New York: Dell, 1974), pp. 42–4, 114, 132–3, 182, 189–90, 205–6; Ralph Bennett, Ultra and Mediterranean Strategy (New York: William Morrow, 1989), pp. 15–19, and passim; Ralph Bennett, Ultra in the West: The Normandy Campaign of 1944–45 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1979), pp. 1–25, 29, 58, and passim; Parrish, Ultra Americans, pp. 207–32; Hinsley, I, p. 572; F.H.Hinsley, et al., British Intelligence in the Second World War: Its Influence on Strategy and Operations, Vol. III, Part 2 (London: HMSO, 1988), pp. 3–277; cf. Ambrose, Ike’s, pp. 67, 71– 2; on ULTRA over-reliance, cf. David Fraser, Alanbrooke (London: Collins, 1982), p. 341. On ‘Recruitment in the Bridgehead Area’, see the Memo from Maj. A.M.Scaife through Chief, SO and Chief, SI, 27 June 1944, Folder 355, Box 315, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. ‘OSS/London War Diary, SI, 5’, pp. 4–36. See the entry from Bruce’s diary in Lankford (ed.), Diaries of David K.E.Bruce, p. 71. ‘War Diary, SI, Vol. 5’, pp. 20–3; the peculiar attitude of the 1st Army G-2 is evident in the Forrest C.Pogue interview with Col B.A.Dickson, 1st US Army G-2,

88 SERVANTS OF OVERLORD

68. 69.

70. 71.

72.

73.

74.

75. 76. 77.

78.

6 February 1952, who states that after banishing OSS from his staff, he ‘got OSS stuff anyway from Koch (3rd Army G-2)—he sent out the stuff by the pound’. ETO Theatre Report, 15 June 1944, Folder 3, Box 2, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. ETO Theatre Report, 1 July 1944, both in Folder 3, Box 2, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA (see also Scaife to Shepardson, 7 July 1944, and ETO Officers Pouch Report, 14 July 1944, both in Folder 39, Box 9, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA). B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 292–3. ‘A Study of Operations of G-2 (Intelligence Branch) in the 12th Army Group For the Period from 1 August 1944 to 9 May 1945’, pp. 36–7, Folder 83, Box 300, Entry 190; see Field Report of Maj. Trafford P.Klots, of the SI Detachment, 1st US Army, Folder 46a#4, and of Maj. E.P.Gaskell, SI Detachment, 3rd US Army, Folder 46a#3, both in Box 11, Entry 99; all RG 226, NARA; see Bruce diary, 10 June, in Lankford (ed.), Diaries of David K.E.Bruce, pp. 70–1, 117, and n. 1, p. 220. Handwritten response by Maj. Ides Van Der Gracht, on Memo, Lt (jg) H.H.Proctor to Van Der Gracht, 2 November 1944, Folder 363, Box 316, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. ‘War Diary, R&D Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 1, Organization’, pp. 42–3, frames 348–9, Reel 4, Entry 91; ‘shockingly’, Lt E.C.Crocker to S.P.Lovell, 10 May 1944, Folder 1232, Box 84, Entry 148, both in RG 226, NARA. ‘War Diary, SI Branch, OSS/London, Vol. 4, Proust’, pp. 1–3, 38–41, in B.F.Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, 2; see also Waller B.Booth, Mission Marcel Proust: The Story of an Unusual OSS Undertaking (Philadelphia: Dorrance and Company, 1972) for a narrative of the PROUST teams. Thompson memo, PRO 31/20/12, PRO. See ‘The Value of SOE Operations in the Supreme Commander’s Sphere’, n.d, c. July 1945, WO 219/40B, PRO; cf. B.F.Smith, Shadow, p. 418. See B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 292–3, 305, 307, and Jakub, Spies, pp. 146–84; on the ‘militarization’ of OSS, see Robert H.Alcorn, No Bugles for Spies: Tales of the OSS (London: Jarrolds, 1963), pp. 187–8; on SOE aims, see Wheeler, pp. 517–18; see M.R.D.Foot, ‘What Good Did Resistance Do?’, in Stephan Hawes and Ralph White (eds), Resistance in Europe, 1939–1945 (London: Allen Lane, 1975), pp. 210–1; see also ‘Historical Survey, Report #1, German Intelligence Services M.I. 4’, September 1947, WO 208/4358, PRO regarding Referat IV A2 of the Gestapo, which states that the resistance movements in Western Europe did not become ‘fully developed’ until 1943–4, and that German counter-resistance efforts were focused on the East until that period; FO 371/41905–8, PRO holds excerpts from fortnightly SIS-SOE meetings (‘FO-SOE Committee’), with those of 12 April, 9 May, and 11 July 1944, survey the increased German counter-measures encountered by Resistance groups over this period; George Brewer specifically described the SO-SOE operational relationship ‘as that of a junior partner working under the direction of a senior partner’ in draft of ‘War Diary, Strategic Services Officer, Relations with the British’, p. 18. Col John Haskell to Col Bruce, 3 June 1944, Folder 780, Box 255, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA—corroborated by Bruce Diary for 22 June 1944, in Lankford (ed.) p. 83, which states that ‘the touchy relationship between SIS and SOE’ complicated plans for SF Detachments to make intelligence reports; Maj. R.G.D’Oench to Lt Col W.P. Maddox, 19 June 1944, Folder 465, Box 34, Entry 115, RG 226, NARA

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79.

80. 81.

82.

83.

shows that SHAEF ordered all SFHQ intelligence reports to be disseminated to G-2 SHAEF by SI; see also Foot, ‘Partnership’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 295–300; a Minute by V Cavendish-Bentinck, 25 October 1944, Z6774/82/G14, FO 371/41907, PRO refers to the French knowing ‘perfectly well that SIS and SOE are not only separate organizations, but are at daggers drawn’. William Phillips, Ventures in Diplomacy (London: John Murray, 1955), p. 211; cf. Miller, Spying, pp. 282–5; Roosevelt, II, p. viii, argues that such coordination amounted to direct British control; see Donovan’s reaction to the September 1943 British COS opinion on the worth of OSS, followed by the JCS authority for SI to act ‘independently’ should the opportunity arise in ‘War Diary, Strategic Services Officer, Relations with the British’, pp. 58–63; Donovan’s full memo, 18 October 1943, is in Folder 1, Box 89, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA; COS (43), 240th Mtg (O), 7 October 1943, Minute 6, WO 193/624, PRO clearly indicates that the British were primarily concerned with ‘once and for all…clarify [ing] the principles underwhich SOE and OSS should operate in…combined theatres and US or British theatres’ without restricting the freedom of SI; cf. J.G.Beevor, SOE: Recollections and Reflections, 1940–1945 (London: The Bodley Head, 1981), p. 83, on the British emphasis on procedures for the control of operations, and not spheres of influence, and SI/London Minutes, 23 April 1943, which reluctantly concedes that SIS could not be expected to jeopardize its own operations for American ones of dubious potential; see also Jakub, Spies, pp. 146–84. Lankford (ed.), Diaries of David K.E.Bruce, pp. 12–34. Bruce to Donovan, 4 March 1943; ‘continuous’, Hugh R.Wilson to G.Howland Shaw; this request was vetoed by Donovan since Bruce would have been listed as an Assistant to the Military Attache, and this would have implied subordination to G-2/London—see Donovan to Bruce, 12 April 1943; all in Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA.. Cf. with Christopher Hitchens, Blood, Class and Nostalgia: Anglo-American Ironies. (London: Chatto and Windus, 1990), pp. 330–9; Winks, Cloak, pp. 152– 230, especially p. 179, and pp. 190–2 on the Mediterranean; Donald Downes, The Scarlet Thread: Adventures in Wartime Espionage (New York: The British Book Centre, 1953), especially p. 86, where Downes opines that spying is ‘essentially unmilitary’; and Corvo, Italy, passim; see also the negative view of SIS in Coon, Story, pp. 131–3. For the ‘Manhattan Project’ analogy, see Barry M.Katz, ‘The OSS and the Development of the Research and Analysis Branch’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 47.

4 Reductio Ad Absurdum: R&A/London’s Quest for Relevance

OSS/London’s Research and Analysis branch (R&A) spent its existence in a desperate, if largely futile, struggle to secure a meaningful role. It was hampered in this attempt by two mutually exacerbating factors: the expectations of its branch superiors in Washington, and the practical realities of forging links with the British intelligence establishment. Further complications involved R&A’s tenuous affiliation with the other OSS branches in London, and its ‘fifth wheel’ relationship with SHAEF. This portrait contradicts R&A’s post-war reputation as a unique collection of scholarly operatives mobilized by an ingenious William Donovan who more than anyone else appreciated the potential contribution of such a group.1 Some unconvincing tributes to R&A have described its achievements as being ‘enormous, if ambiguous’, describing the branch as being the most powerful and important weapon within OSS, despite there being ‘no smoking gun to prove effectiveness’.2 R&A partisans are thus inclined to conclude with a straight face that the ‘vital importance of R and As legacy stemmed from the fact that for the first time, it collected, synthesized, and analyzed the entire range of… intelligence, even though it often remained unused’.3 The scholarly literature on OSS has largely taken R&A’s unique success at providing accurate, objective studies as a given, although R&A’s overall significance to the war effort is less easily demonstrated. R.Harris Smith incorrectly characterizes R&A as the ‘first concerted effort to apply the talents of its academic community to official analysis of foreign affairs’, as the British experience will indicate.4 Robin Winks sees research and analysis ‘at the core of intelligence’, with R&A controlling ‘the most powerful weapon in the OSS arsenal: the three-by-five index card’. The branch nevertheless could not easily prove the relevance of its work; it could not always answer the ‘so what?’ question posed by decision-makers. Winks stresses the potential of applying scholarly talents to intelligence evaluations, but in an important sense, he sees that potential constrained by R&A’s awkward fit in the intelligence system. He nevertheless assumes without any ‘smoking gun to prove effectiveness’ that R&A was ‘the most important unit in the OSS’.5 Thomas Troy concludes like R.H. Smith that ‘Donovan…carved out a brand new province’ in government with R&A, but he does little to substantiate this.6 Such a view is particularly debatable in light of British experience. It has moreover

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been suggested by Bradley F.Smith that with OSS restructured and distanced from Roosevelt, the branch essentially became orientated as ‘a data-feeding organization that developed information and then tried to find customers who would use it’. Smith does, however, mirror Winks’s view of research and analysis being the core of intelligence agencies, and of R&A demonstrating the potential application of academic study to a centralized service that continued after the war.7 Barry Katz particularly embraces this positive view of academia’s contribution to intelligence, and of intelligence-experienced scholars to academia, through R&A.8 This latter inclination is understandable in terms of intellectual history, but it still leaves the specific issue of R&A’s contribution to intelligence unresolved. It is not enough to presume R&A’s effectiveness in the face of the continuing scholarly ambiguity regarding R&A’s actual work. R&A/London’s experiences in fact demonstrate quite clearly that it was not very unique in its achievements; that it was more often superfluous to collection-synthesis-analysis than an embodiment of it; and that in ‘many situations, there was a discrepancy between what social scientists thought they could do and what policy-makers were prepared to let them do’, although R&A’s work did often remain unused.9 Britain began mobilizing scholars and professionals to provide expert analytical support for the government well before Donovan’s creation of an OSS academic branch. This infusion of ‘new men and new methods’ into wartime Whitehall is termed ‘Hitler’s reforms’ by one historian of the British Civil Service. The reoccupation of the Rhineland on 7 March 1936 prompted Lord Hankey to begin focusing government attention on the steps necessary for mobilizing new ministries in the event of war with Germany. Profiting from First World War experience, it was quickly realized that talent originating outside the Civil Service would have to be identified and earmarked for official use. A report on the ‘Employment in war of University men’ delivered by the Manpower Sub-Committee of the Committee of Imperial Defence in August 1938 recommended ‘that undergraduates and graduates wishing to enlist should be treated primarily as a field for the selection of officers or for employment on special duties and therefore dealt with under special recruiting arrangements’. A Central Register for gathering particulars on suitably qualified individuals was subsequently established within the Ministry of Labour. While GC&CS had already begun recruiting ‘probably the greatest collection of first-class British grey matter ever assembled in one place’ the preceding June, other government departments began identifying people with presumed technical and administrative expertise. The Central Register was sidestepped to an extent by SIS who ‘had rather special requirements for men who were not specifically covered’ by the Register’s mandate, but the outbreak of hostilities in September 1939 soon had academics placed throughout the war ministries. Almost 1,000 each month found themselves assigned duties within the first 6 months of war. Statisticians were ‘like gold dust’, while many economists found their way logically enough into the Economic Section of the War Cabinet. Since Churchill

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largely delegated oversight of the Home Front to the Lord President of the Council, the Home Front effectively ‘became an adventure playground for conscripted social scientists’.10 The influx of scholars into wartime policy direction commenced with alacrity thanks to an admirable amount of foresight and pre-planning. Many men rapidly found themselves directly involved in the formulation and execution of government policy, achieving far greater effect than could any repository of academics writing reports willy-nilly without reference to the issues of immediate concern to government departments. These professorial types were also absorbed into intelligence-orientated work beyond that of GC&CS, including analytical tasks for various research bodies within the government. One intelligence-veteran turned spy-novelist recalls his first exposure to this sort of recruit upon reporting to the British Army’s Intelligence Corps depot in Winchester, where he hobnobbed with professors of French and German who could write theses on Trade Unions in the Middle Ages but couldn’t ask a girl out for coffee. On our second day, a Sunday…[following] the Saturday night dance, the professors and I were detailed to clean up the abandoned prophylactic devices as our introduction to security work. This led to much quoting of Rabelais and Juvenal.11 While those possessing appropriate linguistic faculties plied their trade with the agents, others found employment among the array of British analytical bodies. SIS itself maintained no research and analysis unit. The service was instead divided into Production Sections, having ‘no concern with [the] evaluation of incoming intelligence’ beyond indicating agent reliability, and Circulating Sections, that evaluated, screened, and disseminated intelligence for whatever consumer they dealt with directly. In other words, the Circulating Sections were ‘largely the responsibility of the intelligence consumer, such as War Office or Admiralty, which placed them [the Circulating Sections] in SIS’. These sections were essentially concerned with processing data collected by SIS without reference to other sources, and with funnelling the largely ‘raw’ product to those who would decide for themselves how best to use it.12 Other branches of government conducted more specialized analyses. The Ministry of Economic Warfare’s Enemy Branch contained a Damage Assessment Unit studying the economic impact of Allied strategic bombing based on collecting and collating relevant intelligence, and advising on further targeting. The Research and Experiments Department 8 (RE8) of the Ministry of Home Security was a close partner through its examination of German bombing effects in Britain. MEW also employed Enemy Resources Departments to study and produce expert commodities reports relative to the enemy. An Inter-Services Topographical Department (ISTD) was established in Oxford under Admiralty administration to process topographical intelligence on a tri-service basis for

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producing detailed surveys by country or district, its chief editor being a classics don. The Foreign Office for its part employed a Foreign Research and Press Service (FRPS) that evolved into the Foreign Office Research Department, and a Political Intelligence Department (PID) that provided a cover for the Political Warfare Executive (PWE). FRPS originally conducted foreign press surveys, while PID published a weekly secret Political Intelligence Summary with supplements drawn from research on special topics. FRPS and PID were later merged to create FORD, which continued its predecessors’ activities, including issuing special reports at various agencies’ requests. The ‘almost entirely academic’ staff included Professor Arnold Toynbee, and its special reports and research were closely linked to the FO’s post-hostilities planning by war’s end.13 British research and analysis relative to intelligence obviously stressed serving specific customers through the performing of a particular function. The cohorts of mobilized analysts were employed to serve clearly defined existing needs, and to provide special research in response to developing demands. The relevance and influence of their work stemmed directly from their applying skilled research to meet the pressing requirements of the various wartime ministries and services. No research department or group tried to be all things to all people, or to beaver on in splendid isolation from the real requirements of their customers. The customers were largely able to tailor research staffs themselves without having to establish ties with an autonomous group of academics pursuing their own institutional agenda. While this system could reasonably be expected to have stood as an example to be emulated by Donovan’s OSS, such was not the case. Part of the problem lay with the relative vacuum in US pre-war planning. There was no American equivalent of the British Central Register, and therefore no concerted pre-war effort to mobilize America’s rich academic resources. Donovan eagerly presumed to fill this void with his conception of what would become the Research and Analysis branch of COI-OSS. The Colonel planned for a concentrated unit of academics serving under him. Scholars were from the beginning deemed necessary to give intelligence greater substance while focusing on key strategic and policy questions.14 The original plan for COI’s analysts envisaged executing functional research through a unit in the Library of Congress, filtering its product through a supreme Board of Analysts, and thence to Donovan for the President. This soon proved impractical, due largely to Donovan’s decision to court an ambivalent Roosevelt instead of serving specific government departments.15 With OSS’s evolution under the JCS, the original R&A branch was left to carry the burden of Donovan’s conception by establishing a reputation for accurate and objective studies. A close examination of R&A’s evolution in London with specific reference to intelligence reveals the practical success of this innovation. Those making up R&A have been termed the ‘bad eyes brigade’ in deference to their bespectacled contribution to the war effort, and the personalities involved certainly distinguished the branch from the rest of OSS.16 Ivy League academics

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provided many of the earliest recruits, setting a suitably elitist tone for the branch. This did not impress all observers, however. One R&A underling later wrote that ‘vanity seemed to rule the whole setup’. The ‘pecking order was brutal. It was almost an insult to address any one as professor. To a man all those eligible insisted on being called doctor’, which saw the more irreverent within OSS referring to R&A/Washington’s building as ‘the medical school’.17 However much they were disdained, these status-conscious analysts were nevertheless expected to establish R&A’s presence overseas. It was precisely the elite branch format, however, that would be a source of future complications since R&A by definition maintained ‘a virtual monopoly of the scholars working in American intelligence’, whereas it has already been detailed how this was not the case in ‘the British system, where academics were spread throughout a number of secret services’. The first R&A representatives in London were thus confronted with the fundamental task of establishing contacts with such a diffuse collection of potential British colleagues.18 R&A interests in London were represented until 15 May 1942 by three members of the Foreign Information Service (FIS), a propaganda section subsequently hived-off to the Office of War Information (OWI). They were primarily occupied with establishing cordial relations with Britain’s Ministry of Information and PID through the flow of information digests, and with the Political Warfare Executive in obtaining foreign newspapers. Permanent R&A staff arrived in mid-May, but functioning without a designated branch head made it harder to approach the British. R&A/London was essentially not integrated with the other OSS branches, and the absence of an R&A chief obstructed efforts to measure the branch’s standing within the London mission. This amounted to a debilitating degree of ‘functional isolation’ in the branch War Diary’s phrase, which meant that R&A/London was left mostly to its own devices in establishing firmer links with British agencies, ‘links that varied considerably with the organization concerned’. As each British agency sought out that portion of OSS ‘which most closely corresponded to its own function, and to establish more or less exclusive relations with that [branch]’, the fact that R&A did not fit neatly into any single existing category of British intelligence work made for slow progress. This was particularly so since R&A was not the only American body doing, for example, economic or propaganda research. The only recourse for R&A was thus ‘the flexible policy of allocating and lending personnel at strategic points’. In the early period, though, R&A/London could only establish channels and gain access to British agencies through ‘recognized American opposite numbers’. This was only realistic, and attained the immediate objective of document procurement ‘rather than any close constant liaison’. The British were for their part quite willing ‘to gamble on the future with respect of quid pro quo’, which ‘explained how, with nothing to give, the branch was able to collect so much material for Washington’.19 The process of securing introductions with representatives of British agencies as a foundation for subsequent direct requests for information and materials

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continued until the end of 1942. Profitable links were initiated with FRPS, MEW, the JIC (with R&A participating in meetings between the JIC and other American agencies in London), ISTD, and PWE. Relations with ISTD and PWE particularly held the possibility of mutually beneficial projects. This situation contrasted with the tenuous relations between R&A and the other OSS branches during 1942. This problem was not confined to London, and stemmed from each branch’s attempt to ‘catch up’ with its British opposite numbers, thus focusing efforts outside, not inside, OSS. SI was particularly prone to cultivating its independence, and to pursuing its rivalry with R&A concerning information collection and processing.20 The R&A-PWE relationship was itself complicated by PWE’s 31 July 1942 recognition of OWI ‘as the normal channel for PWE material’ (with OWI communicating it to OSS), and by PWE’s reluctance to formalize ties with OSS/ London before PWE understood its own position in the US with OSS/ Washington. There was also some uncertainty within PWE as to what actually Whitney Phillips’s function was.21 R&A/London was in due course successful in acquiring texts and information from PWE since these gifts did not involve R&A in actual propaganda operations. Limited progress was also made with other British organizations. Geographical handbooks and topographical proofs were exchanged with the Admiralty, while books were borrowed from the Foreign Office.22 Contact was made with PID on 30 October, which made R&A/ London’s Allan Evans believe that he might obtain access to PID’s ‘valuable background sources of information’, including ‘pamphlets and books’ on Germany and its economy.23 Evans’s enthusiasm was not blunted by the requirement to ‘sign the most alarming engagements, oaths and promises’, although he stressed the secrecy of the information so obtained since he preferred ‘to see the inside of the Tower only as a visitor’. The FO had also ‘opened the mysteries of FRPS’ to the Americans by that date, giving R&A/London ‘the right to receive the same diet of reports’ as other outsiders, all of which made Evans feel that the branch had ‘done rather well with the Foreign Office’.24 R&A thus engaged in some rather prosaic activities centred on reaching out to British departments for information. Far from disappointing R&A’s Washington superiors, this was in fact completely in line with their expectations. Harvard historian William Langer assumed overall leadership of R&A in October 1942, and while he differed from his predecessor (James Baxter) on how best to structure the branch, he shared Baxter’s view that ‘the purpose of the outposts was to make [R&A] studies available in the field, [and] to collect and transmit to Washington intelligence of all kinds that might be valuable’, with some attention to giving ‘all possible aid to the other parts of the agency and to perform such functions as might be required by the theater commander’.25 Langer’s focus was on what outposts like R&A/London could do for R&A/Washington, with only passing thought given to serving key consumers in the theatres. Langer’s attitude toward the necessity of establishing close working ties with the British was equally ambivalent. His views concerning the FRPS material enthused upon by

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Evans were communicated to London in December 1942: Langer did not think that the FRPS data ‘warranted [R&A] dignifying them to the extent of making a formal request for them’; but if London found them of real importance, and of bureaucratic political utility, Langer said he ‘might reverse the decision’.26 It was further believed in Washington that R&A/London should function as an intelligence source on the British while working as their partner.27 Allan Evans agreed ‘perfectly’ with the view that ‘work done in London [was] supplemental to the work done in Washington’.28 Such was the preferred R&A method; ‘the incoming material was systematically handled, the outposts were kept informed of home needs, and at least a modicum of direction was supplied’, although in Langer’s view, ‘much more could and should have been done to provide guidance and direction’.29 Despite his belief in the need for even stronger direction of London activities from Washington, Langer was nevertheless ‘astounded to find how little account was taken of the Branch and its work and how little its chiefs were included in the inner councils of the organization’ during a trip to London in September 1942.30 He was evidently unable to grasp then (or after the war) the relationship between the primacy he placed on acquiring data for R&A/Washington, and R&A/London’s apparent irrelevance to the activities and needs of the other OSS branches. In light of the aforementioned ‘functional isolation’ of R&A in London, and Langer’s lukewarm appreciation of R&A/London’s need to ingratiate itself with similar British organizations as a means of commencing relevant field work, it is hardly surprising that R&A/London was forever on the outside looking in. R&A/London’s eternal dilemma was therefore defined early on as the necessity of satisfying Washington’s demands while trying to work with disparate British organizations as a means of demonstrating R&A/London’s bona fides in order to accomplish something concrete in its own right. This problem also reflected Langer’s belief ‘that if [R&A] could effectively fill a need [for research and analysis] which certainly existed, customers would eventually beat a pathway to [its] doors’.31 This helps explain why Langer saw R&A’s first requirement as being the creation of a super-repository of global intelligence housed in Washington serviced by outposts whose main duty was to fulfill what amounted to a post-office role. The London group was accordingly obliged to function as a conduit for the flow of information, with all other activities ancillary to that essential task. The branch outposts were not expected to concentrate on acting as local performers of the R&A mission since head-office requirements outweighed independent theatre work. The material collected in London could in theory have served as a data-base from which R&A/London analysts fashioned reports concerning myriad political, economic, and geographical subjects. Such reports could then have been used by both ETO customers and the Washington HQ. Langer, however, did not see it that way. Collecting and exchanging research materials on behalf of the home office remained the paramount mission for his London subordinates.

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R&A/London was therefore pulled in two directions, with the inherent tension only increasing with time. Shepard Morgan was appointed London branch head in January 1943 while R&A as a whole underwent structural reorganization away from academic disciplines (Economic, Political, Psychological, etc.) toward geographical areas of collective analysis. It was thus an ideal time for R&A/ London to appraise its situation for the benefit of its new mission chief.32 Chandler Morse of the Enemy Objectives Unit (see Chapter 5) observed in a meeting between R&A staffers on 14 January that since R&A/London’s sources were British, and its work with British agencies was available for R&A dissemination, the branch’s best course of action would be ‘to supplement deficient British manpower in existing British intelligence agencies’. A memorandum was accordingly drawn up by Crane Brinton for Morgan on 16 January suggesting future plans. Brinton recommended that R&A infiltrate into British agencies much as it was doing in ISTD. He considered that only so would R&A gain access to British files which must be its only source of information. The assignments would, however, be qualified so that, at any time when work for an independent R&A staff appeared, the members could be recalled and reintegrated. He indicated that MEW might be the easiest agency to infiltrate, but that PWE and FRPS were the most desirable in view of the nature of the R&A staff.33 Not everyone agreed with this policy. Allan Evans wrote an addendum to Brinton’s report questioning that R&A men be put into British agencies simply to get them to work. Evans argued instead for opening and cultivating contacts on the basis of inventing research projects in London. A policy of distributing R&A personnel throughout British units was only justified if R&A work with British agencies paralleled projects actually under way in R&A/Washington.34 This basic policy conflict would never be resolved. The R&A War Diary puts the best face on the situation by describing how both policies were followed simultaneously for the next two years. At no time did the nucleus of R&A[London’s]…headquarters wholly dissolve… [T]here was no time when R&A did not have members more or less completely assigned to work in British agencies. In general…the two policies were complementary and mutually indispensable. Without a central working headquarters the infiltrated men would have been of small direct benefit to the R&A Branch [in Washington], but it was largely through these same men that the central office gained access to the most important sources of information.35 The War Diary nicely encapsulates the nature and permanence of the branch’s predicament. Given OWI’s first claim on PWE, R&A could only collaborate on producing Civil Affairs Handbooks designed to provide information to the

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armies on occupied Europe, and exchange information pertaining to German public opinion and morale. Exchanges of map and general information dominated the R&A-ISTD relationship, while guide books and reference books were obtained from MEW for economic studies.36 As these activities filled R&A’s working hours throughout 1943, Washington still expected the branch to act as their London information service. Morgan was reminded on 21 January to keep Washington informed ‘as to what research work PWE is doing on other areas’, and informed on 17 July that Langer had been disappointed with the results of adding R&A people to ISTD since they were ‘entirely out of touch… and [had] done nothing to make available to [Washington] special material which may be in the ISTD files’.37 Langer wrote Morgan on 22 October to say that he was ‘very glad’ that R&A’s men in PWE had proven effective, but suggested that once handbook work closed, Morgan ‘ought to very seriously consider whether these men should be continued with the British agencies’. Langer had ‘very grave doubts’ about the wisdom of supplying R&A staff to British agencies since this scattered R&A’s own limited staff. He mentioned the point ‘particularly in connection with the Civil Affairs work’, and felt that it was ‘highly desirable [that] a few men…should actually be on the planning group for Civil Affairs work but for the rest [he was] convinced that in London, as [in Washington], [R&A could] operate more effectively as a well integrated servicing unit’.38 While Langer continued to ignore how R&A/London had more to do than harvest information out of British files on behalf of the home office, the branch’s relationship with the rest of OSS/London continued to rest on the weak foundation laid in 1942. Langer ironically delighted in quoting David Bruce’s praise of R&A/London as a quality organization whose ‘infiltration of various individuals into different British departments and agencies [had] proved…to have been timely and wise’, despite Langer’s own obvious antipathy toward that particular achievement.39 More telling was the observation of John Wilson, who wrote in May of mutual mistrust between R&A and the other branches throughout OSS, and not simply in London: The ‘cloak and dagger boys’ felt that the ‘long-haired’ researchists were owlishly impractical with regard to existing situations and were insufficiently schooled on security. On the other hand, the researchists felt that the operations people were rashly eager to ‘get something done right away’, disregarded the necessity for basic knowledge as controlling action, and therefore made disastrous mistakes. From the first there was no useful contact between the two points of view. The operations people did see some need for basic information. However, they distrusted the regional specialists of R&A and therefore tried to build up their own information resources. They were blessed with greater financial flexibility and were thus able to add their own researchists, who duplicated much of the work done in R&A. This

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tendency has been visible in SI, SO, [and] FN [Foreign Nationalities branch].40 R&A was thus so ‘functionally isolated’ from the rest of OSS that its very job was being usurped by other branches. Far from standing as the apotheosis of intelligence analysis within OSS, R&A was evidently unable to meet the operational branches’ requirements, leading those branches to do the job themselves. Langer moreover could not see how his own branch’s fixation with shuffling data to Washington was executed at the expense of serving customers within OSS/London. All of David Bruce’s references to R&A in his correspondence with Donovan during this period make no mention of how R&A could be integrated with the rest of OSS, although he again speaks approvingly of R&A’s ‘infiltration’ of British agencies.41 R&A was thus still confined to a frustrating bridesmaid role throughout 1943. Events became even more confused in 1944. R&A/London under-went a significant personnel expansion prior to OVERLORD as part of Washington’s new recognition of London’s potential during January– February 1944. This itself created strains between Washington and London which were only resolved when a new theatre branch chief was appointed. R&A/London had reconciled itself to fulfilling Washington’s limited expectations, particularly since a more involved role was precluded by the existence of ‘extremely able people’ from OWI, the American Embassy, and the US Army ‘whose talents would have to be used’ in the Strategic Intelligence Branch of G-2, ETOUSA. Since Morgan had returned to the US because of ill health the preceding September, R&A/London Acting Chief Crane Brinton believed that his colleagues had to avoid aiming too high, instead serving military plans by continuing ‘to be in large part a sort of information bureau—an exalted information bureau maybe, but still an information bureau’. This suggestion was in keeping with R&A/London’s structure and experience up to that point, but Langer soon threw a wrench into this conception. Washington decided without consulting London directly that the main branch Headquarters of R&A should be moved to London to exploit opportunities arising from the prospective Normandy invasion, an idea which merely demonstrated the gulf between the two.42 David Bruce received a letter from Langer on 3 February explaining that R&A/ London had to undergo a shift in emphasis from military planning studies toward post-hostilities work, chiefly military government and civil affairs. All new staff reinforcements were to avoid dispersal, and act as integrated units on ‘a few major objectives’.43 Such grandiose plans excited hopes among London analysts for increased action in their theatre, but they were soon tainted by the discovery of an intemperate letter sent to Washington on 4 January by Carl Schorske outlining his views on R&A/London’s track-record. Schorske alleged that R&A/London ‘had been established with no clear function or direction’ from Washington in mere imitation of other branches who were creating London outposts. Without any clear objective, R&A/London then allowed itself to be exploited by various

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‘persuasive British agencies’ for personnel before finally acting as a more useful ‘service unit for varied American customers’. London was nevertheless still engaged in ‘piddling and insignificant commitments’ in early 1944. Schorske went on to blame London’s inadequate leadership, and the outpost’s ‘chaotic history’, for involving R&A/London ‘in many commitments’ which prevented the branch from welding its activities into a ‘unified program’. He was obviously unaware of the necessity of working with the British as a means of satisfying Washington’s information demands, and therefore oblivious both to the dilemma facing his London superiors, and to the dual policy response formulated by Brinton for Morgan. Schorske’s description of the pedestrian and often irrelevant nature of most R&A/London activities was at least accurate, but he failed to identify the true cause, that being Washington’s vision of London as a data-collecting outpost, which handicapped London’s ability to provide meaningful direct service to anyone in the ETO. Schorske also failed to recognize the reality that R&A-British links were necessary for performing either role. Brinton had himself ‘detected behind [Langer’s reorganization] memorandum a feeling that R&A/L should be in contact with higher echelons and exert an influence upon policy planning’. Brinton and ‘Allan Evans agreed that expectations of this sort rested upon a misunderstanding of conditions in the theatre’, and both subsequently replied to Schorske’s memorandum in that vein.44 Brinton particularly detailed London’s two-policy approach, and informed Langer directly that ‘[n]o one from…Schorske’s position…could possibly be aware of the difficulties and delicacies of our work here’.45 Evans detailed errors of fact in Schorske’s memo, and later pointedly replied to Schorske with a personal letter suggesting a subtitle for his piece: ‘Jaundice in an Ivory Tower’.46 Langer eventually proffered an apology of sorts to Brinton on 7 February, but the basic misunderstandings remained unresolved.47 The arrival of Harold Deutsch (the addressee of Schorske’s memo) from Washington in February was intended to effect that resolution through various administrative conferences, and by rationalizing R&A/London’s personnel assignments and structure consistent with the geographic reorganization of R&A as a whole. This programme still required maintaining links with the British, but precluded ‘dispersing’ R&A/London staff to other agencies working for the military in the field, and necessarily isolated R&A from the military’s increasingly defining influence with the rest of OSS. Deutsch also negotiated a freer exchange of intelligence with SI (see Chapter 5, p. 145), but he could not overcome R&A/London’s exclusion from OSS/London’s operational planning for OVERLORD.48 Hard on the heels of these developments was Chandler Morse’s appointment as R&A/London’s permanent chief in place of Brinton, ostensibly because Langer did not have confidence in Brinton’s administrative abilities.49 R&A/London’s actual work programme now focused on serving the information demands of SHAEF’s Civil Affairs’s numerous sections by answering their ‘various factual questions’. It also concentrated personnel in the

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British PID (tasked with weekly political intelligence reports; see above), but PID subsequently played a disappointingly small role relative to SHAEF after DDay. New work was also done appraising and interpreting European economic and political trends with a mind to civil affairs and post-hostilities applications. The resulting European Political Reports (EPR) were deemed particularly significant within R&A/London since they utilized all branch divisions in an integrated application of analytical talent, and they were apparently well received by the embryonic military government formed for the occupation of Germany (see below pp. 114–15).50 A particularly anti-climactic contribution to OVERLORD concerned R&A’s formal tasking as OSS/London’s post-invasion ‘channel for relations with G-5 [Civil Affairs] SHAEF’; but despite R&A/ London’s previous March 1944 realization that their people had to work closely with PWE in ‘real joint teams’ so that evaluations of liberated populations for SHAEF would not be made ‘exclusively by PWE’, it was clear by July that R&A could not produce the requisite personnel for such work.51 Deutsch told Langer as much on 3 July, stressing the consequent failure to secure an intimate relationship with SHAEF’s Political Warfare Division.52 This did not stop R&A/ London from subsequently making the odd claim that [o]utlets for the work of the Research and Analysis Branch in ETO continued to develop rapidly during July. In order not to dissipate the Branch energies in too many directions, …a work program [was] designed toward a maximum contribution of R&A intelligence to bodies responsible for formulating military and political policy within ETO. Complete and satisfactory arrangements with the more important of these policy bodies so that they look upon R&A as one of their principal research staffs had not been made at month’s end. However, steady progress toward this goal was realized [sic].53 As for R&A’s relationship with the rest of OSS, some changes developed in the OVERLORD period. The prospect of close ties to the Morale Operations branch in its propaganda work fizzled out due to MO’s failure to make significant headway (see Chapter 7, pp. 205–9), but an SI-R&A ‘curb service’ was established in July. This gave R&A access to SI intelligence, while R&A agreed to create ‘an efficient routine for handling requests from SI field detachments which R&A [was] especially qualified to fill’. This latter development heralded a degree of SI-R&A cooperation that would culminate in a joint intelligence processing unit late in the war (see Chapter 5, pp. 145–8).54 The post-OVERLORD period gave R&A/London one more opportunity to carve a niche in ETO after its relationship with SHAEF G-5 failed to take off. Langer had identified continental and post-hostilities work as definite planning objectives in February 1944, and the post-invasion period was considered especially ideal for dispatching R&A teams to report on local populations.55 R&A particularly desired representation in the OSS ETO Forward Headquarters

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in Paris because of the competition R&A encountered from other agencies. These included G-2 SHAEF, which outstripped R&A’s capability for enemy Document Procurement in Civil Affairs work.56 As Morse himself conceded, another determining consideration was his coming ‘to recognize, perhaps too tardily’, that R&A’s ‘actual and potential’ theatre clients were not particularly ‘high-grade customers’. The German Country Unit’s staff was trying to plan without any knowledge of military post-hostilities policy; ‘their influence on policy [would] be accidental, the result of defaulted obligations at higher levels, not intentional’. Morse did not envisage any significant power being delegated to SHAEF, although his opinion stemmed from his view of R&A’s weak prospects in that arena. He accordingly concluded that R&A/London ‘should concentrate on quality output and try to anticipate new needs…[and] maintain contact with [its] present clients…but…avoid entangling commitments until a clearer view of the future [was] possible’, and ‘concentrate…on (1) helping R&A/W to serve its policy making clients in Washington and (2) defining a solid function for [R&A/ London] in the future that will make intensive use of the resources and special facilities that [it had] to offer’. This recognition that R&A/London was still trying to accomplish something of consequence beyond carrying ‘out [its] primary objective of serving [R&A/Washington] well’ revealed much about the relevance of its work to date.57 Little changed after Morse made his views known. R&A/London’s main activities involved planning to support the Allied Control Council in occupied Germany with a ‘higher level of interpretation and analysis’ rather than ‘day-today intelligence work’, and with providing economic, cartographic, and biographical information in support of Military Government.58 It had been pointed out in August that the main possibility for R&A/London post-hostilities work resided in the Control Council.59 While some R&A work was eventually done in agent briefing, the branch accordingly orientated itself toward aiding the US Group, Control Council for the rest of 1944–45.60 As noted above, R&A’s European Political Report made an impression on American military government officials. G-5 ETOUSA were particularly impressed with R&A’s support of their planning for Germany, stating that their plans were ‘impossible without the contribution of R&A research’.61 True to form, however, such effective winningover of potentially influential customers within the theatre remained secondary to the prime mission of securing ‘strategic intelligence for the central agency in Washington’.62 This last episode bears out the fact that as R&A passed through various phases during its tenure in London, its experience was marked by a number of undeniable constants.63 From the gradual growth of initial contacts with British opposites, to attempting to build on those contacts throughout 1943, to scrambling to provide a meaningful service in the OVERLORD period, up until the last attempt at securing a raison d’être in post-hostilities work, R&A/ London’s experience was repeatedly marked by certain factors that prevented the full exploitation of the branch’s potential. Especially significant was the fact that

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the branch’s ‘effort at both strategic and tactical levels [was]…dissipated due to the necessity for finding markets rather than meeting an existing demand’.64 Langer himself conceded that R&A studies often failed to reach those they should have, and that he himself should have done more to ‘solicit customers’; but since it was not in his nature to do so, he patiently waited for customers ‘to beat a pathway to [R&A’s] doors’.65 Achieving this objective was itself problematic in light of the branch’s eccentricities when viewed from outside. A member of the US Joint Intelligence Staff once bluntly pointed out that there [were] many PhDs…who [were] living emotionally in some other period of history and submitting to the [US JIC] Summary articles which appear to have no relation to the present. Not only the subject matter but the tone of the articles are open to criticism. Some of them seem to have the moral-dream-world quality induced by reading the more wistful pieces in the New Republic. Actually, the papers published in a first class learned journal embody the objectivity and poise I would like to see… The writer went on to note that provided R&A got rid of such people, their work would fulfil a useful role.66 This emphasizes the critical importance of identifying just who R&A could serve—both in London and in Washington—and how best it could serve them, but in a letter to the chief OSS historian, R&A/London’s Crane Brinton specified many of the complications experienced in attempting to do this. The first of these was poor liaison with Washington. London’s feeling that it was misunderstood by Washington, and Washington’s view that the outpost was ‘wayward and indifferent to home needs’, were natural but too prevalent. There were also problems ‘centering around the difficulties of a brand-new agency, with a job not quite like any previous American agency, in getting the materials it was set up to get’. The cost of fulfilling that task ‘was a certain abandonment’ of R&A independence since it had to ‘infiltrate’ men into PWE, et al. A related problem Brinton ‘found hardest to solve, and which [he] solved in a way not altogether pleasing to Donovan and Langer’, concerned that of concentration versus dispersal of personnel. R&A/London was forced by circumstance to be nearer the pole of dispersion than the pole of independence; ‘[i]n fact, though this was one of [London’s] big misunderstandings with Washington’, London felt it could only operate in the ETO if it gave ‘a quid pro quo for materials—for “intelligence”—in actual manpower’. R&A-PWE relations depended entirely on R&A giving manpower. R&A/London’s biggest problem, however, involved whether it ‘should try to horn in as much as possible on the dignified work of “planning”’, or whether it should be content ‘with doing the less spectacular work of grinding out the often petty details of research’. Brinton described his experience this way:

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[A]cademic social scientists in government jobs, certainly if they have attained middle age, seem to feel that anything less than ‘high level planning’ is beneath their dignity. They want to tell somebody important how to treat the Germans under the occupation, how to handle De Gaulle, how to treat the Communists—or at any rate, they want to write essays on such subjects, and hold meetings to discuss them. Now in ETO at least, R and A never...quite attained that high level. We were not invited to sit in at the big policy meetings, we were not offered the post of éminence grise to any big shot. What the operational people wanted of us was not our opinions, not our advice, but the facts. The facts they wanted were often darned hard to get… Now frankly I early became in London an advocate for our being modest, for our setting ourselves up as just about the best information bureau we could be, and trying to answer well the incredible number of specific questions shot at us by the Army. I was not even much worried about the problem of deciding whether the questions were ‘important’ enough for us to give them the benefit of our skill in research. But most of my colleagues took the view that our skills were too great for this information service, and that we ought to set ourselves up primarily as a ‘planning’ organization. Therefore it seems to me we spent too much time trying to horn in where we weren’t wanted, spent too much time just talking and planning, taking in one another’s intel lectual washing. I think it is obvious that if we did a really good job giving the ‘operators’ the facts we would in reality very considerably influence policy… But I know this problem will always be with us. The intellectual, especially the academic intellectual, seems to get obsessed with the importance of thinking and planning when he goes out into the world, and to lose some of the patient virtues at research he had acquired professionally.67 Brinton’s recipe for R&A success was clear: establish a convincing track-record by giving available consumers the material they wanted, thereby proving R&A’s value, and building from there. The links established with the British were by implication ideal, and indeed necessary, prerequisites for accomplishing this. Such links opened up sources of information to be analysed, and they gave R&A a foundation of work to build on. Brinton’s strategy was also for the most part a mirror image of the British research and analysis model discussed earlier, which itself involved serving specific customers to the customers’ satisfaction, rather than pursuing self-aggrandizement. R&A/London, however, often ended up producing material in isolation from existing theatre requirements which it believed consumers would flock to (e.g., political and economic trends reports). That tendency proved most unrealistic in light of the gulf between what the ‘social scientists thought they could do and what policy-makers were prepared to let them do’;68 Brinton noted that R&A ‘was even at best…somewhat of a parvenu’ in its relations with the US Embassy, G-2 ETOUSA, and G-2 SHAEF. 69 R&A thus failed to reconcile its pretensions with the reality of military

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primacy in the ETO (which made the sword mightier than the pen), and to content itself with the more humble lot of working with British agencies in support of predominantly military requirements (Katz conversely attributes R&A/ London’s difficulties to a dearth of the ‘administrative ruthlessness’ necessary for functioning in London’s proverbial ‘intelligence brothel’).70 However telling his observations, though, Brinton only hints at the larger reason for R&A/London’s failure to fulfil its potential. The essential conflict between Washington’s view of R&A/London’s fundamental purpose, and the circumstances and opportunities facing the London analysts, effectively preempted any chance of their functioning according to Brinton’s philosophy. R&A/ London was time and again expected to subordinate the execution of a distinct service role within the theatre to the post-office duty Washington desired. The London unit was therefore obliged to miss the opportunity to entrench itself in its own right. Given this isolation from the other branches of OSS/London, and from closer links with potential customers, the bulk of R&A/London was effectively rendered irrelevant to any serious intelligence function in the ETO. It was more a sidelight to meaningful intelligence processing than the shining embodiment of it, as indicated by its estrangement from both G-2 SHAEF and from the intelligence work of OSS itself. The Assistant Chief of R&A/London’s Map Division articulated the problem best in November 1944. Lieutenant (jg) Robert M.Coffin argued that virtually ‘all the detailed difficulties…faced at the outpost could have been traced to one basic point, namely that there seem[ed] to be a lack of a real intelligence philosophy in OSS’, resulting in no ‘established concept of intelligence work’. This meant that a [coordination of outpost aims and purposes between R&A, London and R&A, Washington was never really accomplished Having practically no well-established intelligence concept a great deal of time was spent trying to set up aims, goals and customers… [T]hese aims and goals were never quite accomplished and…the resulting continental operations [could] not be satisfactory. Most culpable in Coffin’s view was the fact that since no clear idea existed as to R&A’s precise intelligence function, ‘there was no clear idea as to the type of work which needed doing by R&A when it arrived on the continental scene’. It was ‘confused as to the big concept of a well-rounded intelligence program, and how it could be pushed forward’ after OVERLORD. ‘Continental Operations finally took on the appearance of an Oklahoma homesteading rush with…people poised on the line waiting for the gun in order to get into France’ to stake out their claims.71 The lack of a clear intelligence concept essentially explains it all, and this crippling confusion emanated from the top down. Donovan could only articulate the general idea that R&A scholars were to revolutionize intelligence processing,

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while leaving the specifics of how exactly they were to accomplish that goal to William Langer. It has been shown that Langer was consistently obtuse in his grasp of the circumstances and opportunities confronting the London outpost, primarily because there was no appreciation of how R&A could function best— in effect, no intelligence philosophy. Langer was a scholar after all, not a professional intelligence officer. Langer saw R&A’s birthright as one of collecting data, writing it up, and basking in the reputation automatically secured by the self-evident brilliance of the analysis. He did not fully grasp that R&A had to earn its place in the intelligence sun, and that doing so would require knowing precisely what its primarily military consumers wanted, and delivering it. This shortcoming was the main obstacle for R&A/London since R&A/Washington’s conception of London as little more than a conduit providing information for the home-office analysts impinged irrevocably on the chances of Langer’s London subordinates making the most of their situation. R&A/London was thus largely reduced to an absurd shadow of what it could have been. R&A/Washington’s fate was little better, since Langer’s own memoir notes that he did not do enough to solicit customers, and was generally too passive to realize R&A’s potential.72 There was, moreover, never any indication to London concerning what specific needs were being met by its information gathering, no statement of direction concerning specific consumer needs that had to be met by R&A/Washington for the JCS, or the President, or the State Department. It was all simply about gathering information. If Langer subsequently encountered greater success as an intelligence chief in the post-war Central Intelligence Agency, it owed much to some obvious distinctions between CIA and OSS. Unlike the situation he faced in the Donovan organization, Langer’s experience of the CIA was shaped by the fact that the CIA answered directly to the President; that it enjoyed a monopoly on high level analysis and assessments; that no parallel analytical function was haphazardly set up in CIA outposts; and that CIA analysts were not dependent on forging links with US military commanders, nor on the necessity of accommodating an ally’s fragmented analysis system. In short, the CIA had a more sophisticated intelligence concept than OSS and R&A ever did, and its responsibilities and chain of command were much clearer and more rationalized than those of OSS. Langer was evidently better equipped to manage the postwar American system than he was the OSS version. The thesis of R&A relevance and uniqueness thus stands unproved. The conception of academics as natural intelligence analysts failed to develop in OSS/London given the lack of a working intelligence concept. If anything, this view of academics is more descriptive of the British experience.73 Notwithstanding the generally unproved assumptions about R&A/London, two of its offshoots have the reputation of being particularly effective. In cooperation with entities outside R&A, these units engaged in work that shows research and analysis applied directly to intelligence tasks, and presumably vindicated the RScA experiment. The extent to which these applications of R&A talent validated the concept of scholars as intelligence officers thus invites detailed

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exploration, first concerning economic analysis in directing strategic bombing, and secondly in joint intelligence processing with the branch’s arch rival, SI. NOTES 1. See the transcript of Anthony Cave Brown’s interview with O.C. Doering, Jr, n.d., Tape #7, pp. 109–10, and transcript of A.C.Brown interview with William Colby, 17 August 1980, pp. 11–12, both in the Donovan Papers, USAMHI; R.H.Smith, OSS, p. 13. 2. ‘Enormous’ remark made by Barry Katz at the 11–12 July 1991 US National Archives conference, The Secrets War: The OSS in World War II’, cited in MacPherson, ‘Conference Report’, p. 514; powerful, effective, smoking gun, from Winks, Cloak, pp. 62–3, 112, 114—see also Winks, ‘Stuff, p. 28. 3. Bernard David Rifkind, ‘OSS and Franco-American Relations: 1942–1945’, PhD dissertation, George Washington University, 1983, p. 302. 4. R.H.Smith, OSS, p. 13. 5. Quotes from Winks, Cloak, pp. 62–4, 71–2, 77–82, 111–15. 6. Troy, Donovan, pp. 84–5, 100. 7. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 77, 360–1. 8. Katz, Foreign, passim. 9. Leonard W.Doob, ‘The Utilization of Social Scientists in the Overseas Branch of the Office of War Information’, The American Political Science Review 41, 4 (August 1947), p. 649. 10. This paragraph is drawn from Peter Hennessy, Whitehall (London: Fontana, 1990), pp. 88–92, 94–5, 97, 100–3, 111; on GC&CS recruitment, see also Andrew, ‘Hinsley’, in Langhorne (ed.), Diplomacy, pp. 32–3. 11. Ted Allbeury, ‘Memoirs of an Ex-Spy’, in Dilys Winn (ed.), Murder Ink: The Mystery Reader’s Companion (New York: Workman Publishing, 1977), p. 165. 12. Jackson report on ‘The British Intelligence System’, pp. 22, 24–7, 33, USAMHI. 13. Ibid., pp. 66, 69–76; for detail on RE8, see the correspondence of Seymour Janow in Folder ‘Seymour Janow’, Box 2, Entry 77, and C.P.Kindleberger to Col R.Hughes, 5 April 1943, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; both in RG 226, NARA. 14. Katz, Foreign, pp. xiii, 5–8, 17–21; Katz, ‘Development’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 43–4. 15. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 73–7, 360–80. 16. Winks, ‘Stuff, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 20. 17. Alcorn, Bugles, p. 75—cf. Winks, Cloak, pp. 77–8. 18. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 361–2. 19. This paragraph is drawn from ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 1’, pp. 1–3, 5–8, 10–12, 16– 18, frames 270–2, 274–7, 279–81, 285–7; see also the memo by ‘JDW’ (John D.Wilson), 19 June 1942, frames 843–6, Reel 102, and the memo by Allan Evans, The Work of R&A in London’, 22 June 1942, frames 837–9, Reel 102, all in Entry 95; see also Whitney to James P.Baxter, 9 February 1942; Fisher Howe to Baxter and Langer, 15 April 1942; Howe to Baxter, 16 June 1942; memo and letter Wilson to Baxter, 18 June 1942; all in Folder 1824, Box 128, Entry 146; John D.Wilson memo, 19 June 1942, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145, and Wilson to Emile Despres, 21 July 1942, Folder 1302, Box 8, Entry 146; all in RG 226, NARA.

108 R&A/LONDON’S QUEST FOR RELEVANCE

20. ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 1’, pp. 19–21, 39–45, 54–6, 77–91, frames 288–90, 308– 14, 324–6, 354–68; J.D.Wilson, ‘Future Liaison of COI With English Organizations Engaged in Economic Intelligence’, 11 May 1942, and Wilson to Baxter, 20 June 1942, both in Folder 1824, Box 128, Entry 146; for a proposal on working with FRPS, see Allan Evans to Phillips, 26 October 1942, and for an example of informa tion obtained by the JIC and passed to Washington, see Evans to Wilson, Note by Air Pouch, n.d. (c. January 1943), both in Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; on early exchanges with SI, see ‘Report of Joint R&A/SA/B Committee on R&A’, dated simply October 1942, Folder 1838, Box 129, Entry 146; see also ‘Interview with Mr Allan Evans, R&A’, 6 February 1945, Folder 342, Box 224, Entry 190; all in RG 226, NARA. 21. Minutes of PWE-OWI Meetings, 31 July and 6 August 1942, FO 898/104—see also PWE Meeting of the Propaganda Policy Committee, 4 August 1942, FO 898/ 13; all in PRO. 22. ‘War Diary, SSO, Relations with British’, p. 38. 23. Evans to William Langer, 30 October 1942, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; see also Allan Evans, ‘OSS R&A/London’, 16 November 1942, Folder 1302, Box 8, Entry 146; both in RG 226, NARA. 24. Evans to Langer, 25 November 1942 (the reference must be to the Official Secrets Act), with attached ‘Report on PID’, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; see also Evans to Phillips, 3 September 1942, in ‘War Diary, OSS/London, R&A Branch, Vol. 12, Basic Documents’, pp. 9–13, frames 40–4, Reel 4, Entry 95; both in RG 226, NARA. 25. Langer’s comments in ‘The Research and Analysis Branch’, 1 March 1947, pp. 21– 2, attached to Langer to Kermit Roosevelt, 5 March 1947, Folder 666, Box 48, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 26. John D.Wilson, European Theatre Reports Officer, R&A/Washington to Allan Evans, 10 December 1942, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145, RG 226, NARA. 27. John D.Wilson, European Theatre Reports Officer, R&A/Washington to Allan Evans, 24 December 1942, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145, RG 226, NARA. 28. Evans to Wilson, 17 November 1942, Folder 1302, Box 8, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 29. Langer, ‘Research’, pp. 21–2; see also the report by William Applebaum on his trip to London over December 1942–January 1943 in ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 12’, pp. 15–99, frames 146–245, RG 226, NARA; see also B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 367–8. 30. Langer, ‘Research’, p. 13. 31. William L.Langer, In and Out of the Ivory Tower (New York: Neale Watson, 1977), p. 188. 32. Langer, ‘Research’, pp. 7–18; ‘Interviews with Drs Langer, McKay and Brinton’, 15 November 1946, pp. 1–2, Folder 666, Box 48, Entry 146; ‘War Diary, OSS/ London, R&A Branch, Vol. 2, Early Period of Independent Operations’, pp. 1–2, frames 384–5, Reel 3, Entry 95; both in RG 226, NARA. 33. ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 2’, pp. 6–8, frames 389–91. 34. Evans addendum to Brinton memo, Folder ‘Basic Documents’, Box 1, Entry 75, RG 226, NARA. 35. ‘War Diary, R&A, 2’, p. 8; see also Morse to William Hall, 27 January 1943, Folder ‘Washington Letters’, Box 2, Entry 77; for a list of R&A/London personnel

AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON 109

36.

37.

38.

39.

40. 41.

42.

43.

44.

45.

at this time, see Robert H.Alcorn to Donovan, 6 January 1943, Folder 2299, Box 152, Entry 146; both in RG 226, NARA; see also Katz, Foreign, pp. 22–3. ‘War Diary, R&A, 2’, pp. 21–3, 34, frames 404–6, 417; Brinton to Langer, 26 March 1943, and Conyers Read to Langer, 22 February 1943, both in Folder 1302, Box 87, Entry 146; Morgan to Langer, 11 and 18 August 1943, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; all in RG 226, NARA. Wilson to Morgan, 21 January 1943, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; cable, Langer to Morgan, 17 July 1943, Folder 2306, Box 153, Entry 146; for an interesting descrip tion of work with ISTD, see J.A.Barnes to Langer, 29 March 1943, Folder 1302, Box 87, Entry 146—see also Shepard Morgan to Langer, 16 July 1943, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; all in RG 226, NARA. Langer to Morgan, 22 October 1943; see also Langer to Shepard Morgan, 31 July 1943, both in Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; for detail on Civil Affairs, see ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 2’, pp. 49–52, frames 432–5, and frames 689–767, Reel 102, Entry 95; see also R&A Branch Operations Report, London, 1 March 1943, Folder 1, Box 1, Entry 99, R&A Operations Report No. 2, 15 March 1943, Folder 1302, Box 8, Entry 146, and Progress Reports dated 15 April, 1 and 15 December 1943, all in Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; see Langer’s memo to James Grafton Rogers, 5 May 1943, Folder 35, Box 3, Entry 145, which highlights London’s collection of data for Washington ‘as a model illustration of what R&A is capable of doing in a Theatre’; cf. William Koren to Langer, 10 December 1943, Folder ‘Koren, Lt William’, Box 2, Entry 74; all in RG 226, NARA. Langer to R&A Division and Section Chiefs, 17 July 1943, citing a passage from Bruce’s letter to Col G.Edward Buxton, 19 June 1943, (itself in Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92), Folder 33, Box 3, Entry 145, RG 226, NARA. John A.Wilson, ‘The Regional Specialist in OSS’, p. 2, attached to Wilson to Langer, 17 May 1943, Folder 33, Box 3, Entry 145, RG 226, NARA. Bruce first referred to the ‘successful efforts to infiltrate R&A men into various British organizations’ in a letter to Donovan, 20 March 1943, frame 99, and did so again in another letter to Buxton, 18 September 1943, frame 188, both in Reel 39— his other references to R&A in this correspondence are in frames 76, 81, 87, 104, 110, 118, and 127–8 for the period February–May 1943, all in Reel 39; all in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; on Bruce’s attitude to R&A, see also Arthur Schlesinger, Jr, ‘The London Operation: Recollections of a Historian’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 65. The foregoing is drawn from ‘War Diary, OSS/London, R&A Branch, Vol. 3, January 1944–September 1944’, pp. 1, 5–8, frames 448, 453–6, Reel 3, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. Langer’s memo to Bruce, 20 January 1944, Folder ‘London 1944’, Box 17, Entry 1; see also Langer to Bruce, 18 January 1944, Folder 1219, Box 84, Entry 146, decrying the lack of political reporting from London; both RG 226, NARA. The foregoing is from ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 3’, pp. 11–15, frames 459–63; the Schorske memo to Harold Deutsch, 4 January 1944, ‘Outpost-Home Office Relations’, and ‘Notes by Allan Evans on the memorandum concerning R&A, London Outpost, written by C.E.Schorske on 4 January 1944, for H.C.Deutsch’, 22 January 1944, are both in Folder ‘London 1944’, Box 17, Entry 1, RG 226, NARA. Brinton to Langer, 22 January 1944, Folder ‘London 1944’, Box 17, Entry 1, RG 226, NARA.

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46. Evans’s reply to Schorske, 21 January 1944, Folder ‘Schorske, Carl’, Box 4, Entry 75, RG 226, NARA. 47. Langer to Brinton, 7 February 1944, Folder 2317, Box 155, Entry 146; see also ‘Europe-Africa Division Outpost Letter No. 4’, 3 March 1944, Folder ‘Communications to Outposts’, Box 1, Entry 39, and J.E.Sawyer to Morse, 22 July 1944, concerning support for the idea of centralizing research in Washington, and being served by the outposts, Folder ‘London letters out, 1/6/44–5/8/44’, Box 4, Entry 52; all in RG 226, NARA; see also B.F.Smith, Shadow, p. 368—cf. Katz, Foreign, pp. 171–2. 48. See Deutsch to Langer, 23 March 1944, Folder 1173, Box 82, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA; ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 3’, pp. 16–26, frames 464–75. 49. Langer to Bruce, and Langer to Brinton, both 26 February 1944, both in Folder 1219, Box 84, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA; cf. Schlesinger, ‘Historian’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 63. 50. ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 3’, pp. 30–44, frames 480–93; ETO Officers Pouch Report, 14 February 1944, quoting cable No. 21641 of 8 February, Langer to R&A/ London, which states that the branch should serve Civil Affairs and SHAEF’s Psychological Warfare Bureau ‘as a unified research staff, in Folder 35, Box 8, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 51. G-5 channel from ETO Officers Pouch Report, 29 June 1944, Folder 38, Box 9; on still-born joint work for SHAEF and July developments, see: Brinton to Bruce, R&A Branch Progress Report, 1 March 1944, Folder 2, Box 1; ETO Officers Pouch Report, 3 July 1944, Folder 39, Box 9; all in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 52. Deutsch to Langer, 3 July 1944, Folder 39, Box 9, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 53. OSS Activities Report for July 1944, Folder 117, Box 93, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 54. On MO, see Deutsch to Langer, 27 May and 13 June 1944, both in Folder 667, Box 48, Entry 146; on SI, see Morse to Bruce, R&A Progress Report, 7 July 1944, Folder 3, Box 2, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA. 55. For R&A teams, see Morse’s proposal to Colonel J.R. Forgan, 4 May 1944, and on post-war plans, ‘Objectives of long-range intelligence organization’, 29 May 1944, both in Folder 1235, Box 84; for Langer’s early thoughts on planning for work in post-war Germany, see Langer to Donovan, 15 March 1944, Folder 2318, Box 155; all in Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 56. Morse to Langer, 7 July 1944, Folder 1235, Box 84, Entry 146; see also ‘Field Programme of the Intelligence Services Staff, R&A/ETO (Forward)’, 21 February 1945, Folder 1032, Box 273, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 57. Morse to Langer, 17 July 1944, Folder 1235, Box 84, Entry 146; see also Langer to Bruce, 9 October 1944, Folder 1219, Box 84, Entry 146; cf. The Work Program of R&A/L’, 3 August 1944, in ‘War Diary, R&A, Vol. 12, pp. 150–8, frames 277–86; see also ‘War Diary, OSS/London, R&A Branch, Vol. 3, (ii), General Development and Planning, Oct.–Dec. 1944’, pp. 189–203, frames 642–56, Reel 3, Entry 95; all in RG 226, NARA; see B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 374–5, on R&A relevance; cf. Katz, Foreign, pp. 82–4, and Schlesinger, ‘Historian’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 64–5. 58. ‘Achievements of the R&A Branch During the Past Year, 23 April 1945, Folder ‘Achievements of R&A’, Box 12, Entry 1, RG 226, NARA.

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59. ETO Officers Pouch Report, 14 August 1944, quoting Depres to Morse for Starr, 7 August, Folder 39, Box 9, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 60. Wilson to Langer, 27 February 1945, Folder ‘ETO’, Box 1, Entry 39, which also contains memoranda on R&A work during the post-hostilities period for the Control Council, as does Folder ‘Germany’, Box 16, Entry 1; both RG 226, NARA. 61. Norman Pearson, Acting Chief, X-2/ETO to Morse, 13 January 1945, Folder 1165, Box 280, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 62. Langer ‘Directive on R&A objectives and Organization in Europe (Revised)’, 29 January 1945, Folder ‘ETO Activities of R&A—Plans and Suggestions’, Box 1, Entry 39; for a list of R&A/London members in December 1944, see ‘War Diary, OSS/London, R&A Branch, Vol. 11, Personnel Roster’, pp. 1–35, frames 84–119, Reel 4, Entry 95; both in RG 226, NARA; see also Katz, Foreign, pp. 78–80. 63. See the outline of the history of R&A/London, n.d., Folder 1235, Box 84, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 64. ETO Officers Pouch Report, 26 July 1944, quoting Robinson to Morse, 17 July, Folder 39, Box 9, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 65. Langer, Tower, pp. 187–8; see also Winks, Cloak, pp. 75–6. 66. Lt-Cdr Gilbert P.Simons to S.E.Gleason, 28 August 1943, Folder 961, Box 69, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 67. Brinton to Conyers Read, 19 December 1944, Folder 61c #1, Box 15, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 68. Doob, ‘Utilization’, p. 649. 69. Brinton to Read, 19 December 1944. 70. Katz, Foreign, p. 172. 71. Coffin Field Report, 2 November 1944, Folder 46c, Box 12, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 72. Langer, Tower, p. 188. 73. Cf. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 370–1, 376–8, for a less critical assessment of Langer; cf. Winks, Cloak, p. 61 on CIA, p. 64 on R&A arrogance.

5 Falling Short of the Target: EOU, SIRA, and the Pitfalls of R&A

The Enemy Objectives Unit and the joint SI-R&A intelligence-processing partnership each had the opportunity to shake free of the confusion that crippled R&A’s potential, and to validate R&A’s theoretical advantages. They were notable efforts in OSS’s attempt to secure maximum influence, and to establish a distinctive American approach to intelligence in accordance with Donovan’s original conception. They were R&A/London’s most potentially suitable weapons, with EOU being particularly well regarded inside OSS; but their experiences actually illuminated two unforeseen dangers inherent in the whole R&A experiment with crafting intelligence analysis. Despite demonstrating R&A’s possible reach when appropriately tasked, EOU permitted analysts to be policy advocates rather than strictly objective specialized data-processors. The joint SI-R&A entity, known by the combined acronym SIRA, hoped in late 1944 to achieve a measure of direct R&A input into OSS intelligence processing usually absent in the ETO. SIRA instead demonstrated R&A’s marginalization in connection with intelligence handling, and the usurpation of R&A’s status as the chief conduit for reporting. While EOU was especially culpable for abandoning objectivity in favour of its own agenda to the point of openly defying the high command, both units fell disappointingly short of the target Donovan had set for R&A. EOU eventually found itself one of the more influential groups involved in executing an Allied strategic bombing effort that grew out of Britain’s tenuous position in autumn 1940. The Chiefs of Staff September 1940 appreciation outlining Britain’s desperate reliance on SOE-directed subversion also stated that aerial bombing by the Royal Air Force offered the ‘only means…of striking immediately at objectives within enemy territory’, complementing the optimistic economic blockade that was expected to cripple Nazi industry.1 Thus originated the strategic air offensive, intended as a method of ‘direct attack on the enemy state’ that deprived it of ‘the means or the will to continue the war’.2 This strategy unfolded largely in accordance with the inter-war concepts of the Italian air power theorist Giulio Douhet, who wrote in 1921 that in the era of total war, achieving ‘command of the air’ through mass deployments of bombers against the enemy’s homeland could inflict the most rapid, efficient, and crippling amount of damage possible.3

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One of Douhet’s most prescient observations concerned the selection of targets, which had obvious ramifications for the application of intelligence resources to the bombing campaign: The choice of enemy targets…is the most delicate operation of aerial warfare. In such a case the final decision depends upon the disequilibrium between the damage suffered by the enemy and his powers of recuperating…. The truth of the matter is that no hard and fast rules can be laid down on this aspect of aerial warfare. It is impossible even to outline general standards because the choice of enemy targets will depend on a number of circumstances, material, moral, and psychological, the importance of which, though real, is not easily estimated. It is just here, in grasping these imponderables, in choosing enemy targets, that future commanders of… Air Forces will show their ability. Once the choice of enemy objectives and the order of their destruction have been determined, the task of the Air Force becomes very simple—to get on with their destruction in the briefest possible time, with no other preoccupation.4 The British were indeed confronted with the target selection problem in 1939. A targeting organization was immediately required to analyse the German economy, search for the most vulnerable ‘target systems’ and targets within those systems, and so help employ the RAF’s limited striking power.5 The organization responsible for this task in the first instance was the Ministry of Economic Warfare. The role of MEW’s Enemy Branch ‘in regard to bombing’ was defined for the new Commander-in-Chief RAF Bomber Command in 1942 as providing target information, as assessing the vulnerability of different targets to attack, and as determining the effect of those attacks on the German war effort.6 The high degree of uncertainty about Germany’s real economic position at war’s outbreak coloured the Enemy Branch’s analyses and recommendations, however. MEW found ‘it difficult to reconcile the puzzling, but often very explicit, evidence of German deficiencies and improvisations with the…overwhelming success of German military operations in 1939 and 1940’, which MEW credited to ‘thorough and ruthless’ planning for a war economy presumably running at fever pitch. This was an erroneous conception of an enemy economy far from complete mobilization, but it led MEW to conclude in 1939 that commodity control through blockade would cause Germany’s economic breakdown by starving the admittedly adequate industrial base of its assumed peak consumption of raw materials.7 The stunning events of May— June 1940 forced MEW to abandon hopes of victory by simple blockade (particularly as Germany’s recent territorial acquisitions and pact with Russia largely ameliorated the strength of economic warfare), and to focus on destroying supplies of key commodities, most notably oil.8 Oil was accordingly regarded as a prime target for RAF Bomber Command’s attacks in 1940, but two

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shortcomings combined to frustrate this first concentrated air offensive. Precise knowledge was lacking about Germany’s oil position, which involved both domestically produced synthetic fuels and conquered natural supplies. Germany’s ability to cut civilian oil consumption, and to increase synthetic production, could not be predicted accurately before the war, while the amounts of Polish and Romanian oil obtained were even more difficult to ascertain. Equally debilitating was Bomber Command’s frank technical inability to realize oil bombing’s potential in 1940–1. Forces and bomb-loads were insufficient, as were the operational techniques necessary to ensure hitting the targets.9 This failure of RAF oil bombing as directed by MEW assessments had two major consequences. First and foremost, Bomber Command developed a jaundiced opinion of targeting by economic analysts. During the great targeting debates of 1944, the Bomber Command C-in-C, Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris, took pains to describe ‘very forcibly [his] experience with the Ministry of Economic Warfare in the past and expressed [his] view that if this was anything to go by [the air forces] should certainly be basing [their] plans on incomplete information’. Harris grew to have little confidence in MEW’s recommendations to bomb ‘targets which were supposed by the economic experts to be such a vital bottleneck in the German war industry that when they were destroyed the enemy would have to pack up’. Only at the very end of the war did ‘the arguments of the economic experts [not] invariably [prove] fallacious’. Harris’s experience with MEW as a group commander concerning oil, and then regarding molybdenum, Ruhr dams, ball-bearings and German morale as C-in-C Bomber Command, hardened his views considerably given MEW’s repeated failure to detect the results expected from bombing their selected target.10 MEW’s consistently high expectations about the effects of precise economic attacks were due largely to its inability to appreciate fully the limitations and considerations of transcontinental bombing as demonstrated in 1940–1.11 These inescapable technical factors contributed to the second major consequence of the oil bombing failure. The inability of daylight ‘selective attack’ to achieve success inexorably led to the acceptance of night area targeting as the only viable application of the RAF bomber force. The casualties inflicted on aircraft by day and the lack of long-range fighter escort necessitated night operations, which itself rendered navigation and target acquisition considerably more difficult (the August 1941 Butt Report demonstrated that only one in five night bombers overall bombed within five miles—i.e., within 78.5 square miles—of their target).12 The addition of America’s bomber force to the air war in 1942 subsequently reintroduced the concept of daylight attacks against precise targets along the lines previously attempted by the RAF, which the Eighth US Army Air Force (USAAF) hoped would demonstrate its own worth as a weapon embodying economy of force through attacking specific industries.13 It was this distinction between a strategy of area targeting and one of precision targeting that set the two forces apart. The USAAF hoped to succeed where the RAF had already failed by attacking presumably vital industrial concerns, after which ‘the

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enemy would have to pack up’. The RAF’s earlier experience engendered little faith in the idea of defeating Germany through destroying allegedly key industries, which then turned it to night bombing against industrial centres themselves (i.e., cities). Britain thus felt forced by over-whelming circumstances to adopt night bombing, which itself imposed the necessity of area targeting as the most suitable means of disrupting Germany’s economy.14 As one American analyst put it, [a]rea bombing has not sprung full blown from the mind of a military theorist; …it is a technique evolved from experience and determined in part by the machines, instruments, and weapons available for air attack… It is a mistake to suppose that the entire evolution of the British air arm has been directed toward increasing the efficiency and effectiveness of area bombing. The more correct view is probably that, given the stage of aircraft development, the British believe that they can affect the German war machine more by directing their attack by night against the whole of a built-up area than they could achieve on German war potential by directing their air force against particular industrial objectives… [T]his calculus has as its basis the evaluation of damage done against losses suffered… It is not true that ‘area bombing was probably important because of the general job it does upon civilian morale and attitudes’. In the British concept it is important because it forces a redistribution and rearrangement of materials and labour force which detracts from the volume of war production.15 The Americans for their part still held to the belief that destroying key industries could prove decisive once those industries were identified. Thanks to the deliberate development of both the B-17 Flying Fortress and special defensive formation tactics, the USAAF felt able to pursue the luxury of daylight bombing, which then theoretically facilitated targeting individual installations. So while Britain’s decision to target the most obvious manifestation of Germany’s strategic economic capacity—its industrial cities—evolved from the requirement to attack at night and from a declining faith in the existence of conveniently vulnerable ‘bottleneck’ industries, the American faith in the existence of convenient ‘bottlenecks’, combined with a belief that technology could overcome adverse circumstances, led to the decision to try targeting only certain industrial installations of presumed strategic import by day.16 The difference between the British and American air-attack strategies therefore rested more on the degree of faith held in the efficacy of targeting either key industries or industrial centres than it did on the commonly (if incorrectly) understood distinction between the tactic of aiming at an ‘area’ as opposed to a ‘precision target’. One former USAAF navigator’s experience indicates that this was a distinction without a difference, since ‘only the lead navigator of the squadron of planes focused its bombsight on the target. We who

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followed simply dropped our bombs when we saw the lead plane’s bombs falling’, with the result that ‘our bombs just fell into the center of cities’.17 Also significant was the USAAF’s ‘combat box’ formation, which produced a ‘pattern correspond[ing] to a bomb ground pattern larger than the usual industrial target’.18 The difference between ‘precision’ and ‘area’ aiming thus bore less relation to how exclusively the target was defined than to how close the aircraft were to a somewhat arbitrary point when the bombs were released. The accuracy of all bombing was accordingly determined by this physical reality. The destruction of a given industrial installation could be desired, but to ensure hitting the area that included the installation, and not a point exclusive to the industrial site, both British and American bombs would either way have to fall in a dispersed pattern. A further consideration of particular relevance to RAF strategy concerned the munitions used, which stemmed from the disparity between the effectiveness of high explosives (HE) as compared with incendiaries. Incendiaries were judged on the basis of British experience under German attack to cause five times as much damage as an equal weight of high explosives. The central city and builtup compact residential areas of German cities were especially vulnerable to fire given their material construction and lay-out, and the fact that this 8 per cent of the average city area contained the densest concentration of dwellings (50 per cent). With 25–30 per cent of the force bomb-load containing HE to destroy essential fire defence means (roads, water mains, etc.), and to complicate civil defence measures, incendiaries offered the best hope of achieving ‘the total destruction’ of the ‘industrial and social activity’ of an industrial centre (i.e., of making it incapable of functioning as an industrial city). By 1942, the simple reality was that for the RAF to have a reasonable chance of destroying German industrial capacity, incendiaries had to be used, which were by definition area, rather than precision, weapons.19 The effect of incendiary-bombing cities was also assumed from the start to have the potential to precipitate a crisis in German morale. This in fact reflected the RAF’s desire to equate area targeting with a possibly decisive result achieved in relatively short order; it originated in February 1942 when the very continued existence of Bomber Command was in doubt due to its operational shortcomings.20 It was incidental to the inability to hit precise targets (the essential reason for turning to area targeting in the first instance), and essentially an effort to make a virtue out of a necessity.21 The choice of day or night navigation, the definition of what constituted a viable target, and the relative efficiency of available munitions accordingly combined to shape the Anglo-American air attacks against German industry. Early 1940s’ bombing was by definition an inexact science, and the respective methods of the RAF and USAAF owed much to their conceptions of what was technically possible with regard to industrial targeting. Such were the Allied bombing offensive’s established parameters when R&A men entered the fray to fill ‘a clear gap in the organization of the American Air Staff in Europe’.22 John D.Wilson and Russell Dorr initially established contacts with MEW’s Enemy Branch

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between April and June 1942.23 When Colonel Richard Hughes arrived in England as Eighth Air Force target intelligence officer, he was approached by Dorr regarding the possibility of R&A contributing to his work since MEW’s Enemy Branch considered R&A to be its opposite number. Following a series of meetings between R&A and Eighth Air Force representatives, it was agreed that R&A economic analysts would establish an Enemy Objectives Unit as part of an overall Economic Warfare Division (EWD) of the US Embassy in London staffed by the American Board of Economic Warfare. The three-man nucleus of EOU (Dorr, Chandler Morse, and Captain Walt W. Rostow) was formally established on 12 September 1942, and was soon joined by other analysts who were tasked by the Eighth Air Force to start aiming point reports on 24 September.24 EOU set about independently developing its own theoretical doctrine for target selection at a time when the USAAF wanted key target systems identified for methodical attack. This made for a certain confluence of aims as the USAAF’s doctrine of precision bombing committed it to destroying industrial targets and to industrial analysis in equal measure. Since the USAAF, unlike RAF Bomber Command, stressed selecting targets scientifically, its targeting intelligence personnel soon commenced formulating ‘Aiming Point’ reports on individual industrial sites, where-upon EOU laid the groundwork for its analytical methodology.25 Using data gleaned from ground reports, prisoner interrogations, visits to similar British factories, and photo reconnaissance, EOU provided analyses of individual target viability for the Eighth Air Force. EOU then moved on to special studies of German industry that were completed by March 1943. It must be stressed that due to dissatisfaction with the methods and performance of MEW’s Enemy Branch, EOU worked independently from its British opposite beyond accepting MEW intelligence for EOU analysis. This analysis work involved producing Target Potentiality Reports’ designed to show how bombing might be best directed against specific possible target systems. In so doing, EOU focused on ranking possible target systems according to their military utility. This involved answering three fundamental questions, expressed quantitatively as follows in a memo by William Salant, quoted in the EOU War Diary: 1. How great is the impairment of the enemy’s efforts per unit of physical destruction? 2. How many units of physical destruction will be achieved per ton of bombs dropped on the target? 3. How many tons of bombs can be dropped per unit of air effort, or per unit of cost? (Including losses and wastage of planes and crew, expenditure of bombs and gasoline, etc.). Analytically, it seems best to assume that virtually any objective can be achieved if sufficient effort is expended. Greater effort—in terms of sorties— will mean higher cost—however

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measured. Therefore cost in some sense seems to be the relevant concept [emphasis added]. Known as the ‘Party Line’, these concepts were expressed as a simple ratio of ‘impairment to enemy/cost to us’, and their development corresponded with the deliberate execution of a Combined Bomber Offensive (CBO) by the RAF and USAAF beginning in June.26 EOU’s conclusions favouring an attack against the production of German fighter aircraft engines contributed to the effort throughout the summer and autumn of 1943 to wear down the German Air Force’s front-line fighter strength (code-named POINTBLANK). POINTBLANK did not succeed, however, given the failure to appreciate the need to repeat strikes against aircraft industry targets in order to overcome German recuperative powers. A revamped effort during February and March 1944 met with greater (but not lasting) success, although the effective defeat of the German fighter force was achieved with the introduction of US longrange fighter escorts.27 The advantages of a precision targeting strategy over RAF methods remained unproved despite EOU’s conclusion based on its impairment/cost equation that precision targeting was more effective, and Bomber Command was actually encouraged in this period to concentrate its attacks against cities vital to German aircraft production.28 Neither method was in fact yet capable of delivering a crippling or decisive blow, however, especially since the Germans responded to the CBO with greater economic mobilization and improvisation.29 The weight of air attack therefore needed more time to overcome the German economy, but that time would be denied both air forces since they were expected from 1 April 1944 to support OVERLORD’s requirements as coordinated by SHAEF’s Allied Expeditionary Air Force.30 This development led to one of the most heated controversies of the air war, and it would persist in modified form until Germany’s defeat, with EOU playing a central role in applying its ‘Party Line’ as ‘a doctrine of warfare’.31 The controversy started from considerations regarding how best to employ the bomber forces in support of OVERLORD, and there were two leading alternatives. The first alternative originated in the experience of the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander, Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, with the bombing of rail communications in the Mediterranean. He was supported in this conception by the analysis of his former targeting aide, anthropologist professor Solly Zuckerman, who believed that such bombing would complicate moving German troops and supplies by rail while also paralysing industry.32 The second alternative was a bombing campaign against German oil facilities, emanating from EOU. This plan was backed by the newly appointed chief of Eighth Bomber Command, Lieutenant-General Carl Spaatz. Despite its own early interest in the potential of rail bombing as demonstrated in Italy, EOU became convinced of the German oil industry’s vulnerability based on its target potentiality studies. Its view particularly stressed the deficiency of German oil stocks in relation to German oil capacity.33 EOU’s faith in the prospects of

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bombing oil put it in direct conflict with Zuckerman’s rail proposal, with the main source of friction being the competing agendas involved. EOU staff member Charles Kindleberger outlines the friction in his memoir, although he defers to Walt Rostow’s published version of events, and Barry Katz’s Foreign Intelligence.34 These sources all suggest the role of competing egos and agendas, but they do not reveal their full influence on events. Zuckerman’s status stemmed from his personal relationship with Tedder born of their experiences in the Mediterranean. In arguing for the rail plan, both Tedder and Zuckerman placed their respective military and analytical reputations on the line. EOU for its part was eager to have a direct impact on operations and to exploit the USAAF’s predisposition in order to have their new plan for victory executed, especially since the American Eighth Bomber Command was frankly casting about for the golden opportunity to enable the Eighth Air Force to prove the validity of precision targeting doctrine. The USAAF’s search was clearly reflected in the alternating American enthusiasm for attacking first ball-bearings, and then the German fighter industry.35 It was also a pronounced tendency in the newly designated ETO American bomber commander, Carl Spaatz, who as Eisenhower’s former Mediterranean air chief was ‘fascinated with the prospect of “buggering up transportation in depth”’. Spaatz had a ‘pre-occupation with attacking communications in Italy’ that gave him ‘a bias on the subject’ before his arrival in England. EOU’s Charles Kindleberger was advised by a Mediterranean counterpart that although Spaatz might ‘be sold the right line immediately’ by EOU, it would be better to convince him through his own staff officers. EOU could educate Spaatz on the attractions of a narrow list of vitally strategic targets, which would obviously steer him toward EOU’s resurrection of oil as the primary bombing target by appealing to his desire to discover some means of validating American bombing methods. EOU was thus engaged by February 1944 in a two-front campaign designed to woo Spaatz and to discredit Zuckerman’s rail plan in order to secure the oil plan’s adoption. EOU would not so much serve its chief consumer as manipulate him.36 EOU accomplished its first objective with relative ease on 5 March when, as predicted, Spaatz rapidly accepted an EOU draft plan presented to him by Colonel Hughes of his target selection staff in accordance with the advice Kindleberger received about approaching Spaatz. This plan implicitly focused on using American strategic air power against oil (Kindleberger’s memoir confusingly claims that a meeting of minds between Hughes and EOU occurred ‘[i]n the winter of 19 [4]3–4’ concerning bridge bombing, not oil bombing, that bridges versus rail marshalling yards was the basic controversy between EOU and Zuckerman, and that this ‘became partly entangled in the strategic issue of bombing oil plants’).37 Achieving the second goal proved harder, not only because of Tedder’s involvement, but because the issue was not as clear-cut as EOU defined it. One member of Britain’s Railway Research Service responded to the criticisms of the rail plan made by EOU and other British agencies (including MEW, the War Office and Air Intelligence) by observing that the

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critics had grossly underestimated German rail requirements in a battle situation, had blatantly overestimated German locomotive availability, and had wrongly regarded all train engine types as interchangeable.38 As indicated above, reservations with the rail plan did not develop along strict British and American lines. Air Chief Marshal Harris opposed an exclusive commitment to any plan that would not by itself ensure the complete application of his specialized force. Harris explicitly said that he was not disputing the choice of targets, and agreed that if this number of rail centres could be successfully attacked the railway system would be dislocated and chaos would result. What he did question was the degree of effectiveness of night bombing upon which the calculations in the paper had been based. [Harris went on to point out that the accuracy of the OBOE and OBOE II navigational aids were unlikely to prove as great as projected. He also stated]…when operations were carried out to a fixed target programme it was inevitable that repeated opportunities for other profitable attacks would be missed. He said the night bomber force must be free to strike whenever and wherever the opportunity occurs [in supporting OVERLORD].39 The C-in-C’s doubts as to Bomber Command’s suitability for such work were reasonable, although inconclusive, but his misgivings about the wisdom of a fixed programme were supported by Air Chief Marshal Sir Charles Portal, Chief of the Air Staff. The debate over rail versus oil in support of OVERLORD had nevertheless gone on long enough. Its resolution finally emerged in a meeting between Eisenhower and the interested air commanders on 25 March where the Supreme Commander came down in favour of the rail plan. The issue was de facto decided by Eisenhower based on which choice implied the most reliable contribution to the execution of OVERLORD. EOU’s Kindleberger had fashioned a tactical plan incorporating bridge and supply dump bombing in explicit opposition to the AEAF rail proposal, but Spaatz had decided only to offer oil bombing for consideration. Eisenhower then decided that bombing rail facilities and marshalling yards would do more to hinder German military operations near the bridgehead in the period immediately after OVERLORD, whereas oil bombing would offer greater potential for strategically damaging Germany’s war effort over time. It should be noted that EOU and Spaatz believed that oil bombing would have an impact at the tactical level as well, but this was dependent on its execution in conjunction with bridge bombing, which itself was not presented to Eisenhower (Kindleberger’s memoir confuses the matter by not clearly articulating the relationship between bridge and oil bombing). The concerns of OVERLORD thus necessitated the prudent selection of Zuckerman’s proposal from the options presented.40 This was not the end of the matter, however. Within a week of his oil proposal’s defeat, Spaatz minuted Eisenhower with a request for the Fifteenth

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Air Force in Italy to bomb Romanian rail yards conveniently adjacent to oil refineries, and for the Eighth Air Force to bomb selected oil plants in Germany, as means of further reducing German Air Force (GAP) fighter power to achieve pre-OVERLORD air supremacy.41 Spaatz succeeded in this oblique circumvention of Eisenhower’s 25 March decision in part by an alleged threat to resign his command if he was not permitted to attack oil in fulfilment of his directive to attrit the GAF.42 Given the ease with which Spaatz secured Eisenhower’s accession to oil attacks before the invasion, and the prompt unleashing of those attacks after D-Day, it seems likely that Spaatz reconciled himself to the rail plan’s inevitability as necessitated by OVERLORD’s shortterm requirements. By acquiescing to marshalling yard attacks, he then secured a trade-off for that which he valued most—the opportunity to demonstrate oil bombing’s strategically significant potential so that the Eighth Air Force would be released to assault oil plants wholesale after the invasion. Bridge bombing was further infiltrated into the pre-invasion bombing programme by the first week of May as tactical bombers were employed to cut these arteries, thus invalidating Zuckerman’s conclusion on the basis of Sicilian bombing that bridges were not profitable targets.43 Rail bombing eventually proved to have the desired effect, partly due to the unexpectedly impressive results achieved by RAF Bomber Command with newly operational navigational devices, but mostly because of bridge bombing in the unique geographical context of Normandy’s dense and contained rail network. EOU was instrumental in pushing for bridge bombing as the results of the May experiments became known.44 EOU’s input regarding bridges played a useful role in supplementing, and even fine-tuning, the original rail plan, and it laid the foundation upon which Spaatz was able to insinuate oil bombing into Allied strategy on the back of OVERLORD’s requirements; but while oil bombing’s subsequent contribution to the end of the war has been largely taken as a given by EOU partisans, the accompanying in-fighting has been glossed over. Most notable is the view of EOU alumnus Walt Rostow: ‘Postwar analysts and historians are…virtually unanimous in their verdict that the attack on oil represented the most effective use of strategic air power in the European theater’ (he particularly decries the delay in oil bombing caused by the 25 March OVERLORD decision).45 Whatever the notoriety of the controversy surrounding pre-invasion bombing, an even more intense struggle ensued as the war drew to a close, one that has not been fully appreciated before, and which reveals EOU in a most unflattering light. Since nearly three-quarters of all Allied bombs dropped on Europe were delivered after 1 July 1944, the post-invasion period was the strategic air offensive’s truly decisive hour.46 Oil was increasingly presumed to be Germany’s Achilles heel by the higher Allied authorities, but their reasoning was more nuanced than EOU’s. It was particularly stressed by the British War Cabinet’s Sub-Committee on Axis Oil that losing Romanian and East Polish oil sources would put an immense burden on Germany’s domestic synthetic

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hydrogenation plants. Germany would therefore be particularly vulnerable as the synthetic plants (50 per cent of its remaining oil sources) were attacked once the external sources were overrun by the Soviets. This would further impose ‘considerable re-organisation and alterations’ to ‘the Axis oil transportation programme’. Germany would be 60 per cent dependent on its synthetic supplies if Hungary and Estonia were also lost.47 This obviously gave added impetus for pursuing EOU’s preferred strategy, but it also provided considerations in favour of heightening attacks against Germany’s rail system during the advance beyond Normandy, thus making the two campaigns complementary. Tedder particularly backed transportation attacks because of their con crete effects against troop and supply movement in battle areas, which would prove important as the Allies closed in on Germany.48 Zuckerman also argued that transportation was the German economy’s greatest common denominator, and therefore the highest priority target.49 RAF Bomber Command’s Arthur Harris was wary of both plans despite the accuracy his men displayed during pre-invasion bombing. He was particularly concerned about the poor weather likely to be encountered in the winter months that would conspire to complicate and potentially nullify any precision targeting strategy if area targeting were relegated to an ‘afterthought’. It would be especially risky to bet everything on an oil bombing strategy that had yet to prove itself conclusively.50 The July 1944–April 1945 period thus witnessed an ongoing struggle between competing visions of how best to employ the Allied strategic air forces during the war’s climax. EOU was an interested party throughout, with its analysts in a distinct position to influence how the question was handled. A Joint Oil Targeting Committee (JOTC) was established on 6 July to monitor bombing effects and to recommend specific targets on the strength of demonstrated performance. Representatives were drawn from all interested agencies and forces, including EOU (and eventually EOU’s Nat Pincus), with JOTC renamed the Combined Strategic Targets Committee (CSTC) in October. Its responsibilities were then extended to include recommending target system priorities as well.51 JOTC also issued weekly bulletins summarizing oil campaign developments based on running assessments of each individual oil plant. CSTC continued this procedure until war’s end. These bulletins indicated some vital considerations in judging the oil campaign’s effectiveness. While German fuel output fell to 60 per cent of April pre-bombing levels by 30 June, to 50 per cent of pre-bombing levels by 31 July, to the 39 per cent level by 31 August, and eventually to a low of about 23 per cent by 30 September, the Germans continued to fight. Much of the September figure resulted from Russian troops over-running all Romanian and most Polish facilities (Romania alone accounted for 50 per cent of German crude); but equally significant was the fact that Germany increasingly responded in accordance with the dictum that if something is worth bombing, it is worth defending.52 Extreme measures were taken to repair damaged plants, and oil refining was dispersed to new underground facilities. It was even feared in October that future German synthetic output

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might reach the levels sustained in August (when Germany still controlled Romanian and Polish sources).53 A slow recovery in fact started during October (to 30 per cent output), a level Germany managed to sustain until Russia’s January 1945 advance into Silesia captured more plants, leaving only Germany’s central and western facilities.54 The British advance into the Ruhr then captured Germany’s heavily damaged western plants, thus leaving the air forces by April to maintain their existing ‘stranglehold on the enemy’s oil supplies until such time as the ground armies place [d] the issue beyond doubt by capture of the main sources of production’.55 Whatever EOU’s position, then, the precision targeting of oil alone never managed to knock out Germany, or even drive its oil output below 30 per cent of its April 1944 level for very long. The most significant influence on German oil was the Soviet and Allied land armies’ advance (itself owing something to the application of strategic airpower to ground support in the west), since the actual capture of plants is what decisively affected the issue. Oil bombing was moreover complicated by the inability of photo reconnaissance—the main source of intelligence on bombing effects—to keep pace with the scale of refinery attacks. There were often seven- to ten-day delays in PR coverage, during which time the Germans could make repairs and so frustrate JOTC/CSTC damage assessments. Even when available, PR had its limitations: one Romanian plant was judged as operating at high capacity when in reality it was producing half the estimated amount given that the plant’s primary distillation unit was out of service for ten weeks, a result undetectable from the air; another plant’s damaged boiler houses led to the conclusion that production was seriously affected when actually the boilers themselves were undamaged and the output higher than assessed on the basis of PR.56 Weather was the factor common to the obstinacy of German production in the face of bombing, and to the lag in PR confirmation, particularly between October and December 1944. CSTC itself noted that during this period, ‘the weather lived up to the worst expectations and visual opportunities of attack were rare’, while weather also made PR damage assessments of specific plants ‘much more difficult’; as a result, ‘[i]n most branches of the enemy’s oil production[,] repairs… began to make progress in [the] face of new damage’.57 Radar-guided bombing was too inaccurate to offset the weather problem. Ten centimetre wavelength H2S radar could only provide an average accuracy of ‘50% of bombs dropped blindly…to fall on [a] built-up area’, with ‘identification of specific aiming points within the built-up areas…not usually possible’. For 3cm wavelength radar, operational performance was expected to be ‘considerably worse’ than the theoretical accuracy of ½ mile, thus giving ‘slightly higher accuracy’ than 10cm wavelength radar.58 A report on ‘Bombing Accuracy, USAAF Heavy and Medium Bombers in the ETO’ furthermore stated that the two most difficult target complexes to bomb accurately were synthetic oil plants and oil refineries, with accuracy defined as 50 per cent of the bombload landing within 1,000 feet of the aim point.59 Even before the winter’s bad weather, it was conceded by the

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USAAF that ‘the difficulties involved…[had] made it impossible to achieve anything like [its] usual bombing accuracy’, with all visual B-17 attacks through mid-July to mid-September achieving only 41 per cent of bombs within 1,000 feet of the aim point, and with an average aiming point error of 950 feet. It was thus ‘clear that the number of bombs which must be dispatched to get the same density of bombs on a synthetic oil target is three or four times as large as it is on [other] targets in general [emphasis added]’.60 This obviously nullified oil bombing’s presumed advantage as defined by the terms of EOU’s own ‘Party Line’, already cited above—‘it seems best to assume that virtually any objective can be achieved if sufficient effort is expended. Greater effort—in terms of sorties —will mean higher cost—however measured. Therefore cost in some sense seems to be the relevant concept [emphasis added]’.61 EOU’s preferred strategy was thus a failure by its own methodology. Given weather, German countermeasures, and bombing technology’s practical limitations, a fundamentally necessary condition for a knock-out oil bombing campaign (hitting the targets with sufficient cost-effectiveness) was not being met. The result achieved against oil also owed more to the advancing armies than it did to bombing. Harris’s ‘worst expectations’ were therefore vindicated by events, justifying his coolness toward abandoning city attacks for a precision campaign that could be so easily frustrated by the elements. He rightly characterized the Allies’ task as ‘a race between the destruction [they] could do and the building of new small plants and the repair of large old ones’, and Bomber Command’s tactical methods in fact proved particularly effective in this regard.62 Bomber Command actually dropped only slightly less tonnage on oil targets than did the Eighth Air Force, but with such effectiveness that unlike the USAAF, the RAF rarely had to repeat its work. The RAF’s destruction of ten Ruhr oil centres proved more effective than the American attacks against central and eastern German plants, and rapidly brought their output to a decisive low level that could not be countered by rebuilding as rapidly as other sites given the attacks’ devastation.63 These facts failed to impress Harris’s superiors and rivals, though, who believed that he was gratuitously obstructing Bomber Command’s application against oil.64 The CAS in particular engaged in a lengthy correspondence with Harris notable for its trivialization of Bomber Command’s position.65 Harris in reality had oil plants as the primary targets for attack, weather and circumstances permitting. Portal specified a lack of ‘enthusiasm’ for oil as compared with ‘area attacks’ in his letter to Harris of 20 January 1945, but Harris had already told him on 6 November 1944 that the Bomber Command Operations Room had a’squash ladder’ of Ruhr oil targets requiring further attention.66 During a 1 March 1945 Air Commanders’ Conference held at SHAEF, Harris also ‘stressed most forcibly that he considered when the weather was fine that the heavies must continue to concentrate on the oil targets…[T]he whole effect would be lost unless every effort was taken to keep’ output at its current low level.67 Bomber Command had also stated at the conference of 4 January (over two weeks before Portal’s ‘enthusiasm’ letter) that oil should be a priority, ‘especially as the month of

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January usually offered good weather, thereby enabling deep penetration into Germany to attack oil targets’.68 The commander of Bomber Command’s Pathfinder Group noted in his memoirs Harris’s March 1945 enthusiasm for oil despite earlier objections that the plants were too hard to hit (before the new H2S Mk. III radar proved itself).69 Despite all of this, EOU also considered Harris an actual foe of oil bombing per se, and this demonstrates the extent to which EOU analysts could not grasp that oil plants were not being hit effectively, that the land armies’ advances were decisive, and that EOU’s ‘Party Line’ was vastly inferior to Harris’s judgement.70 EOU’s obstinacy flared up dramatically toward war’s end. Throughout the oil campaign, a competing communications campaign was also waged with the noted backing of Tedder. Attacks against rail facilities were constantly weighed in the judgements of SHAEF and the JIC, with communications routinely assigned second or third priority as precision targets by CSTC in conjunction with direct support of the land campaign.71 EOU’s CSTC representative nevertheless became so caught up in the oil-rail competition that he and likeminded colleagues formed a distinct faction within the committee which actually defied the high command’s wishes by shunting communications targets to the lowest possible priority in the war’s closing weeks despite oil bombing having achieved as much as it could. The EOU War Diary baldly states that a ‘running guerrilla battle was fought to the end of the war on the proportion of effort which should be allocated to the oil system’. While Captain Harold Barnett lobbied for Army support through G-2 SHAEF, Nat Pincus and other CSTC Members ‘fought to make the job thorough’.72 In point of fact, much of CSTC was not necessarily on EOU’s side, and the thoroughness issue was hardly so simple. The CSTC minutes of the meetings surrounding this episode clearly illustrate that poor weather required repeated oil attacks in November in order to prevent an even greater German resurgence, with the Eighth Air Force representative (Colonel Hughes) particularly keen on having oil remain the priority target system.73 Tedder, though, made it known to CSTC on 22 November that he particularly wanted a bombing programme that would aid the land battle directly.74 Supported by MEW representative Oliver Lawrence, Nat Pincus reiterated EOU’s opposition to such a transportation programme the following week, although he was reminded on 6 December that rail bombing’s objective was to create dislocation and complement the oil campaign.75 This was SHAEF’s view, repeated to CSTC on 27 December, but the committee continued to recommend oil’s precedence over communications until the end of March 1945.76 Matters then came to a head during the 4 April CSTC meeting. The committee chair made it clear that in order to ‘contribute directly to facilitating the advance of the land Armies’, a plan for attacking selected central and southern German communications targets had been agreed to by the Commanding General, US Strategic Air Forces (USSTAF, the new designation for the echelon above Eighth Air Force), the RAF Deputy Chief of the Air Staff (DCAS, Bomber

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Command’s immediate superior), and SHAEF. Pincus immediately declared that CSTC had already decided that communications targets were less promising than attacks against munitions depots, and therefore deserved lower priority. Group Captain Merely of SHAEF/Air challenged Pincus on this, but ‘[a]fter further discussion’, the chairman held a vote on whether communications should be second after oil and ahead of depots (the plan desired by the high command), or whether oil should be ranked first, depots second, and communications third. The second proposal, backed by EOU and its confederates, amazingly prevailed despite the obvious wishes of the air commanders and SHAEF, read Tedder.77 It was a short-lived victory. Tedder immediately contacted DCAS Norman Bottomly and Spaatz on 10 April strongly underscoring the importance of communications attacks, and concluding: ‘I notice that opposition to the present priorities has been expressed in the Strategic Targets Committee. I suggest that the function of this Committee is to choose targets and not to settle policy. I request that the Committee be invited forthwith to prepare an additional list’ of communications targets.78 Tedder’s invitation was not one to be refused, and CSTC miraculously decided on a further study of the depot and communications question the following day.79 A blunter appraisal of the episode, and EOU’s part in it, was delivered to EOU’s Harold Barnett by Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Bailey-King of SHAEF (Forward) G-2 on 20 April: I am afraid that the CSTC meeting of 4th April 45 was most unfortunate. Whatever the facts of the case it was taken as an indication that Nat [Pincus], George JONES [of Eighth Air Force] and others outside the Committee had deliberately decided to veto the Air Commanders [sic] decision; make as much trouble as they could, and what is more aid and abet the 8th [Air Force] to ‘shift cards’ under the table. I don’t need to recapitulate all the hard words that were spoken, suffice it that I tell you that I know that a lot of knuckles were rapped—high ranking ones too—and that whatever may have happened on a low level in the way of telling chaps to do what they were told and stop arguing is mild compared with some of the signals passed at high levels. Some quite high chaps found themselves on the mat. All because, as far as anyone can see, EOU (and Oliver LAWRENCE [of MEW] perhaps!?) decided to test the strength of the Committee; anyhow you all know how weak it is. I mean it just can’t try conclusions with the commanders! I must say quite openly that…the apparent decision of various people to ‘agitate’ against the Air Commanders [sic] decision was just the worst possible policy imaginable. I just cannot conceive anything more calculated to set the house alight. Whatever good I may have done in getting depots attached at all was nullified forever in a flash. In rage, I suspect if nothing else, the Commanders decided to erase all mention of depots from the priority list… I described the LONDON agitation to Charlie [Kindleberger] as pulling a hair out of the arse of the almighty—the result a clout over the ear… I don’t know who prompted who to fiddle with the lay ons but it was clear for about a week that somebody was not playing the game by the rules, however repugnant those rules may have been; so it was brought to various people’s attention. Naturally when about the same time

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various people read the minutes of the CSTC meeting the balloon went up—and how. Let it be realised though that those chaps concerned…prepared their own ‘nooses’; unwittingly maybe! Their intentions may be good, but as you must know Nat’s blind apparent hatred for all forms of transportation attacks makes many people suspicious of his actions and motives…You may say that to cut off all depots from the list in rage so as to ensure that there is no ‘fiddling’ with priorities, is quite unjust; maybe it is; but that is the way things happen in the Army when chaps stick pins in the General’s arse… You have seen enough of how a military machine works to know how things are done. I wish to God you could get across to others this simple fact. When orders have been given it is better to obey them than stick pins in the general’s arse. If you want to complain, by all means do so through the right channels. EOU is perfectly at liberty to argue with USSTAF or the 8th but don’t be caught shuffling the cards under the table; and remember that in the Army, Airforces etc. nothing is really run by a committee… May I ask one last question: at this stage of the war was it all worth it?80 EOU clearly worked with the Eighth Air Force to obstruct the transportation programme in order to prevent any reduction in oil attacks through the pretext of the depot issue (the EOU War Diary, written by Walt Rostow, refrains from going into real detail about the episode, merely characterizing it as another noble effort to maximize oil bombing against the odds that was ‘settled by a decision of the air commanders’, at which point ‘EOU and the dissident members of the CSTC, of course, retired from the fray’).81 It is also known that CSTC’s oil partisans (particularly Lawrence of MEW) even went so far as to suppress analyses of ULTRA material regarding transportation and the German economy that showed the significant effects of air attacks.82 EOU was thus party to a concerted attempt to manipulate analyses and procedures in support of its likeminded USAAF consumers. EOU had obviously gone from simply advancing targeting proposals toward involving itself in shaping policies that would enable the USAAF to validate precision targeting. The ‘confluence of aims’ noted earlier made for a partnership between analyst and consumer that went beyond the intimate support of operations (a theoretical ideal) to active participation in policy debates to the point of collusion designed to frustrate the high command.83 EOU was committed to proving the validity of precision targeting, and to abiding by the ‘Party Line’s’ dictum of realizing greater impairment to the enemy compared with the cost born by the USAAF, by definition in their view through oil bombing. Despite clear evidence that the ‘impairment of the enemy/ cost ratio’ in oil bombing was not nearly as efficient as EOU claimed, it nevertheless clung to a fixed view dominated more by an emotional investment in an abstract doctrine than by any operational reality or objective intelligence

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analysis, a stance that obviously influenced EOU’s entire approach to analysing target intelligence. The oil campaign’s objective merits in comparison with communications attacks, and with the targeting of industrial centres, indicates that the oil bombing reduced Germany’s oil output to a definite ceiling; it did not, and could not, end Germany’s capacity to resist. The transportation alternative never really had a fair chance to prove itself despite Tedder’s patronage, but as a precision target system it would likely have been bedevilled by weather and PR difficulties as much as oil. It is therefore clear that within the constraints of weather and operational technique, RAF Bomber Command was consistently the most effective in destroying communications, oil targets, and industrial centres as navigational technology and crew capabilities reached their peak efficiency. The strategic bombing forces’ contribution to victory, with Bomber Command in the vanguard, was thus a cumulative one: overall industrial destruction, communications dislocation, and firm pressure on oil combined with the advance of the land armies (itself facilitated by strategic air support) to defeat Germany.84 EOU would never concede this since it was obsessed with the ‘Party Line’, and wedded to proving the validity of precision targeting strategy. The only way bombing could have accomplished more would have been for Harris to think sooner in terms of target systems for prioritized destruction by area targeting as opposed to his conventional ‘geographical’ conception of targets for much of the war (i.e., his targeting of Berlin and ‘the Ruhr’).85 The preferred approach eventually manifested itself after OVERLORD as key systems were then realistically identifiable and vulnerable.86 The only other possible option was to bomb Germany’s hydroelectric facilities, but this alternative required electricity to be correctly identified as the Reich’s most vulnerable target system.87 MEW never detected this vulnerability during the war, however (neither did EOU), and conceded as much when captured documents disclosed it.88 MEW Intelligence Weekly Report No. 169 of 3 May 1945 quoted a captured ‘Bulletin of the German Ministry of Armament and War Production’ dated 10 February 1945: ‘it has not been possible since 1941 to meet fully the demands for power which come in the peak period of winter’ despite a 1.3 per cent increase in output in 1943, and a further 2.4 per cent increase in 1944. MEW commented that this insufficiency indicated ‘a more serious shortage of generating capacity’ than it had believed; and that ‘the developments and extensions of war industry apparently soon outstripped it and much of the new plant installed was earmarked for…synthetic oil and aluminium plants and did not therefore ease the burden on the supply system as a whole’.89 An interrogation of Albert Speer on 18 July 1945 further identified power stations as the most efficient means of crippling industry, although Speer variously described oil, ball-bearings, and citybusting as potentially decisive, depending on what he was asked in his cell.90 The failure of British targeting intelligence bodies to win Bomber Command’s confidence, and to detect the most opportune target system, thus combined with

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EOU’s partisanship to prevent the strategic air offensive from fulfilling its maximum potential.91 If EOU displayed the dangers of R&A men getting ideas above their station, the SIRA experience demonstrated their branch’s eclipse in one of its original preserves—intelligence reporting.92 R&A/London was always sensitive to SI’s attitude toward intelligence handling, and it was a small victory near the end of 1942 to arrange for SI to put R&A in touch with exile government intelligence sections in order to acquire political information while preserving SI’s role in processing military intelligence.93 Suspicions nevertheless existed within R&A that SI was not passing on all the intelligence it possessed.94 These doubts were confirmed in 1943 after G-2 ETOUSA requested some OSS analyses, whereupon SI was granted sole responsibility ‘for formulating its own contributions, so complicated and esoteric were alleged to be the processes of evaluating and exploiting the original raw intelligence’. Even when R&A later secured permission to screen incoming SI Reports Division material for inclusion in R&A/London’s political reports to G-2, R&A believed that ‘SI intelligence hardly justified the fuss’, while SI held that ‘the uses of R&A scarcely warranted the intrusion upon tradition and security’. SI thus closely guarded the material received from SIS and others just as R&A simultaneously sought a more direct role in the intelligence cycle with its political reports.95 Harold Deutsch managed to convince SI in May 1944 to circulate material that would not normally be passed outside SI, and to allow R&A to criticize and appraise SI reports. An R&A Evaluations Procedures Officer was duly appointed to co-ordinate this agreement with SI’s Reports Division.96 A ‘curb service’ was then established on 15 June which permitted R&A to examine ‘intelligence of psychological warfare interest’. This had developed after SI ‘more and more [found] that its political or “psychological warfare” intelligence, for which adequate staff provision had not been made, attracted attention and customers’.97 In an ironic sense, R&A was one of those customers since it received particularly useful data for its French political studies. It was this trend toward a combined effort in political intelligence that set the precedent for the even closer SIRA arrangement.98 Although R&A credited SI stinginess in sharing intelligence for SI’s growing relevance to OSS/London’s intelligence analysis, there were in reality two main reasons for SIRA’s development: first, consumers found SI material more interesting than R&A reports, and second, SI was more attuned to the importance of intelligence dissemination than was R&A. The mechanism for SI dissemination was the aforementioned Reports Division. SI rapidly appreciated that the value of intelligence depended in large part on the accuracy, clarity, and speed of its transmission to those who could use it fully. This concern with properly disposing of SI/London’s intelligence is notable for the implication that consumers, not R&A, would analyse intelligence in keeping with SIS practice outlined in Chapter 4. It was an important matter since the volume of intelligence obtained by SI was so great that the branch eventually had to be split into accumulation and disposition sub-units once sufficient personnel were available

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in London for this division of labour. A distinct Reports Division function subsequently evolved throughout the summer and autumn of 1943, focusing on assessing the credibility and significance of sources and data, and on transmitting the material to Washington. SI/London soon realized that such intelligence, including that passed to London from other outposts, should also be disseminated within the ETO. SI was thus able to exploit the Reports Division as an in-house unit for screening and selecting incoming information to meet particular requests, or probable needs as revealed by ongoing liaison, and for delivering the requisite goods to those concerned (particularly G-2 ETOUSA after March 1943). SI not only mirrored British methods of intelligence processing, but it was also successful in obtaining undigested SIS material for its own use in the form of the Military, Air, Naval (MAN) and Economic (E) series of Broadway reports. SIS also performed the valuable function of disseminating SI reports, in accordance with standard SIS practice, to specific government offices such as the Admiralty, Air Ministry, FO, MEW, and War Office. These consumers evaluated the material, and SIS followed up by passing these evaluations back to the Reports Division. The Reports Division therefore enjoyed a clear advantage over R&A given that SI’s attention to the dissemination function at least equalled that given to collection and analysis. As it began processing the material passing through its hands, the Reports Division increasingly became OSS/London’s central intelligence handling centre. The division also became more involved with providing political intelligence to the point where its hostility toward R&A’s practice of disseminating political intelligence contributed to an agreement allowing R&A comment on SI reports before dissemination.” When the Reports Division began depositing political material with R&A in February 1944 it found that political warfare consumers resented the practice because they preferred to receive such intelligence from SI directly. Along with R&A’s own desire for the ‘curb service’, this led to SI developing a Political Section during June–August 1944, by which point both branches saw merit in a joint arrangement for processing politically-orientated intelligence.100 Negotiations were conducted in a number of meetings between branch representatives that culminated in a letter from the SI-R&A branch heads to their Washington superiors on 12 September detailing the combined SIRA arrangement. SI initiated the talks by approaching R&A’s Chandler Morse with the fundamental objective of combining resources for establishing joint reporting boards in London, Paris, and eventually Berlin.101 The London board’s ostensible rationale involved SI’s expectation of moving from military intelligence processing to political and economic material, and R&A’s decreased production of reference compendia as it moved toward more current political reporting. SI would then be able to exploit R&A research methods and data, while R&A could profit from SI’s processing and dissemination capabilities. Centralization would also avoid duplication and overlapping effort. A more honest set of reasons included R&A’s desire to obtain access to all SI data, and its wish to preserve R&A’s monopoly on the interpretive function that SI’s Reports

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Division had encroached upon. Achieving these goals while streamlining political reporting necessitated dividing SIRA administrative positions between the two branches and subordinating the hybrid entity to both branch heads. This was acceptable to SI, which was more concerned with alleviating the personnel shortage that endangered the Reports Division’s ability to maintain its output (i.e., its disseminations). It was hoped that a joint communiqué sent to Washington on 12 September (with the tentative approval of Donovan, who was in London as it was drafted) would overcome the anticipated reluctance of the SIR&A Washington hierarchies to grant approval for this scheme. SIRA’s Political and Economic sections would be drawn primarily from R&A, and its Military and Technical sections from SI.102 R&A’s Arthur Schlesinger was especially keen to embrace SIRA as ‘the wave of the future’ that might do much to preserve OSS after the war. Since SI would inevitably be involved in more political and economic work in the post-hostilities period, SIRA offered R&A’s best hope of maintaining control over reporting in these fields for the good of OSS as a whole.103 SIRA’s successful execution in London was greatly hampered, however, by the prosaic problem of insufficient separate office space for its personnel, the SI Registry, and the R&A Reference Library. This space was deemed necessary both for efficiency, and for avoiding any suggestion that R&A members of the unit were being subsumed by SI.104 This difficulty thus required R&A’s personnel to divide their time between the facilities allotted in SI’s home building and the R&A HQ. This arrangement unfortunately led to considerable confusion. SIRA’s chief, Phil Horton of SI, expected the R&A men to work full time for SIRA, while R&A’s Allan Evans expected them only to do SIRA work half time so that they could still work for R&A. Further confusion arose when SIRA was directed by the OSS/London command on 28 October that there should be a SIRA/ETO chief to whom the London, Paris and Berlin SIRA boards could all answer. It was then proposed by the interested branches that a four man SIRA board made up of two men from each branch be created to perform a coordinating liaison function between SI’s Reports Division and R&A’s analysts, and each branch’s document-processing sections, as well as a recommendation function in directing SI-R&A resources. When OSS/Washington’s negative ruling on the original SIRA conception arrived on 5 December, London responded that the original plan was now so modified as to preclude objections raised by Washington and Donovan that SIRA muddled the branches’ distinct missions. London pointed out that the newly evolved SIRA conception now embodied the closer document-processing feature originally encouraged by Donovan.105 SIRA’s potential was thus nullified to a great extent by its failure to obtain separate facilities, which made R&A face the possibility of physically losing its designated personnel to SI instead of merely having them devote their efforts to R&A sections. R&A men were also disappointed with the drudgery associated with SI Reports Division’s processing work, with the small amount of low-grade political and economic intelligence emanating from Germany in the closing

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months of 1944, and with SI’s desire to issue reports containing minimal analysis and comment in the best SIS tradition. All of R&A’s active personnel assigned to SIRA duly exited the Reports Division by the end of December, leaving SI with its monopoly on effective dissemination procedures. R&A subsequently argued that the SIRA scheme had too grandiose aims and insufficient development time to realize the coordination of resources implicit in the OSS concept. Such pathos merely masked the real issue, namely, R&A’s unwillingness to lower itself to perform the processing drudgery that was the key to whatever influence SI enjoyed. R&A was insufficiently practical to focus on the process of intelligence reporting. R&A was neither willing to establish its own version of SI’s Reports Division, nor to pitch in while riding SI’s coat-tails. R&A thus succeeded in once again short-changing its own effort, not through any evidence that SI reporting was inconsequential or too imitative of SIS methods, but through administrative confusion and analytical arrogance. As indicated in Chapter 4, R&A had no clear intelligence concept with which to fit itself into the intelligence cycle. The potential was there, but R&A basically did not know how to adapt its particular strengths and shortcomings to the reality of ETO intelligence demands.106 EOU and SIRA accordingly realized the R&A experiment’s inherent shortcomings. EOU eschewed objectivity in exchange for a rigid doctrinaire approach that became an end in itself, while SIRA underscored R&A’s selfdefeating abhorrence of ‘drudgery’ and its failure to execute dissemination as well as it did collection and analysis. SI was then permitted, largely by default, to fill the gap left by its more exalted colleagues. As the theoretical embodiment of a potentially distinctive American approach to intelligence analysis, R&A thus lost out to another branch’s adoption of proven SIS methods for processing intelligence and to its own egotism toward those consumers it sought to manipulate, or to defy. These R&A off-shoots accordingly fell far short of realizing Donovan’s goal of a higher form of intelligence analysis. Processing, dissemination, and operational relevance evidently counted for more than unbending commitments to elitist analysis, or doctrinal obsession. It would ultimately be SI, not R&A, that did the most to validate Donovan’s concept by surpassing expectations in 1945. Its espionage assault on Germany achieved some measure of OSS/London’s theoretical centralization. SI did so with its most ambitious independent operation of the war, one that made the most of OSS/London’s capacity for a coordinated, unified intelligence campaign, and one that owed more to the drive of a junior officer with a flair for planning and administration than it did to Donovan’s direction. NOTES 1. COS (40) 683, ‘Future Strategy’, 4 September 1940, WO 193/147, PRO. 2. Sir Charles Webster and Noble Frankland, The Strategic Air Offensive Against Germany, 1939–1945, Vol. I: Preparation (London: HMSO, 1961), p. 6.

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3. Giulio Douhet, The Command of the Air, trans. Dino Ferrari (New York: CowardMcCann, 1942, originally published 1921, rev. edn 1927), pp. 5–10, 24–8, 49, 51. 4. Ibid., pp. 59–60; W.F.Craven, and J.L.Gate, et al., The Army Air Forces in World War II, Vol. II: Europe: Torch to Pointblank, August 1942–December 1943 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949), p. 348. 5. Webster and Frankland, I, pp. 25–7; Anthony Verrier, The Bomber Offensive (London: B.T.Batsford, 1968), p. 208. 6. Lord Selborne to Air Marshal Arthur Harris, 13 May 1942, AIR 14/3510, PRO; on Enemy Branch, see also Wark, Ultimate, pp. 155–87 for its antecedents; W.N. Medlicott, The Economic Blockade, Vol. II (London: HMSO, and Longmans, Green, 1959), pp. 392, 674–88; and Hinsley, I, pp. 100–1, 289–91. 7. W.N.Medlicott, The Economic Blockade, Vol. 1 (London: HMSO and Longmans, Green, 1952) pp. 1, 25–6 (for ‘puzzling’/‘ruthless’ quotes), 29, 33 (for ‘extent’ quote), 43, 46, 62, 417–21; see also Hinsley, I, pp. 223–48, and see also the assessment by the Commodities Priorities Committee Sub-Committee on Petroleum, 1939–40, FO 837/111, PRO; Ben Pimlott, Hugh Dalton (London: Jonathan Cape, 1985), pp. 291–2, 315. 8. On Germany’s war economy and total war, see Berenice A. Carroll, Design for Total War: Arms and Economics in the Third Reich (The Hague: Mouton, 1968), pp. 93, 189–90, R.J.Overy, Goering: The ‘Iron Man’ (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984), pp. 36–9, 48–75, 78, 82–8, 95–102, 148–52, R.J.Overy, War and Economy in the Third Reich (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), Alan S.Milward, The German Economy at War (London: The Athlone Press, 1965), pp. 27, 53, and Alan S.Milward, War, Economy and Society, 1939–1945 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), pp. 75–82, 135–49, 312–13. 9. See Webster and Frankland, I, pp. 163–5, 280–4, 290–1, 296–7, 299–306, 318–36; and Marshal of the RAF Sir Arthur Harris, Bomber Offensive (London: Collins, 1947), pp. 45–6, 77; see also Sir Charles Webster and Noble Frankland, The Strategic Air Offensive Against Germany, Vol. IV: Annexes and Appendices (London: HMSO, 1961), pp. 188–93, for the 7 January 1941 ‘Report on Air Bombardment Policy’ regarding oil; see also Ben Pimlott (ed.), The Second World War Diary of Hugh Dalton, 1940–1945 (London: Jonathan Cape/London School of Economics and Political Science, 1986), pp. 23, 31, 37. 10. Harris, Bomber, pp. 220, 229; see also Charles Messenger, ‘Bomber’ Harris and the Strategic Bombing Offensive, 1939–1945 (London: Arms and Armour Press, 1984), pp. 33, 103–4, 148; Henry Probert, Bomber Harris: His Life and Times: The Biography of Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Arthur Harris, Wartime Chief of Bomber Command (Toronto: Stoddart, 2001), pp. 126–33; David MacIsaac (ed.), The United States Strategic Bombing Survey, Vol. I (New York: Garland, 1976), pp. 2, 209; Hinsley, II, pp. 129–59; cf. Stephen Roskill, Hankey: Man of Secrets, Vol. III, 1931–1963 (London: Collins, 1974), pp. 494–5, 520–1, 530. 11. Medlicott, II, pp. 18, 634–5. 12. Dudley Saward, ‘Bomber’ Harris (London: Sphere, 1985), pp. 144–5; see also Robin Neillands, The Bomber War: The Allied Air Offensive Against Nazi Germany (Woodstock: The Overlook Press, 2001), pp. 34–61. 13. Webster and Frankland, I, pp. 167–88, 458–72; Craven and Gate, II, p. 349; W.F. Craven and J.L.Gate, et al., The Army Air Forces in World War II, Vol. I: Plans

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14. 15.

16.

17. 18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

and Early Operations, January 1939–August 1942 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1948), p. 597. Saward, Harris, pp. 144–5. Seymour Janow to Chandler Morse, 25 February 1943—see also Janow to Fowler Hamilton (BEW), 24 February both in Folder ‘Seymour Janow’, Box 2, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. Medlicott, II, p. 660; R.J.Overy, The Air War, 1939–1945 (London: Europa, 1980), pp. 104–12, 198–9; Williamson Murray, Luftwaffe (Baltimore: The Nautical and Aviation Publishing Company of America, 1985), pp. 298–316. Letter by Edward Field, New York Review of Books 37, 11 (28 June 1990), p. 61. Marc Peter to P.H.Coombs, 5 February 1944, Folder ‘MAAF’, Box 2, Entry 77; see also ‘War Diary, OSS/London, R&A Branch, Vol. 5, Economic Outpost with Economic Warfare Division’, p. 30, frame 766, Reel 3, Entry 95; both in RG 226, NARA; see also W.W.Rostow, ‘The London Operation: Recollections of an Economist’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 52, which details how a USAAF raid on Ploesti in April 1944, while targeted on rail marshaling yards located near oil plants, actually permitted bombing nearby oil refineries, and J.L.Ethell, and Alfred Price, Target Berlin: Mission 250:6 March 1944 (London: Arms and Armour, 1989), pp. 14–15, 94–5, 142–3, which details the poor results achieved well into the war by a USAAF daylight ‘precision’ raid. See the excellent British Air Ministry report ‘Incendiary Attack of German Cities’, January 1943, Folder ‘Incendiary’, Box 5, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA—photographs highlight the repairable damage of even large HE bombs as compared with the irreparable damage caused by even a few incendiaries; see also ‘Air Attack by Fire’, by AI 3c (Air Liaison), 18 October 1941, AIR 40/1351, PRO; Albert Speer noted in an interrogation of 18 July 1945 that fire caused the most damage in RAF raids see Webster and Frankland, IV, p. 393; see also Overy, Air War, pp. 114–15. Cf. Martin Middlebrook and Chris Everitt, The Bomber Command War Diaries: An Operational Reference Book, 1939–1945 (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1990), pp. 239–40 (which cites directives from the CAS in both Webster and Frankland, I, p. 324, and Webster and Frankland, IV, p. 144), with Hinsley, II, pp. 153–4, 264–5, which points out that the intended effects on civilians were to degrade the living conditions of industrial workers in order to erode their performance—see the Janow passage above; killing civilians was therefore an unavoidable side-effect of area targeting cities, not its primary aim—the aim was to stop an industrial city from functioning as such, and an extant population would actually serve as a greater burden in a city with interrupted power and water, wrecked transportation facilities, damaged residential areas, and disrupted industrial works which themselves would be a priority for repair. See Sir Charles Webster, and Noble Frankland, The Strategic Air Offensive Against Germany, 1939–1945, Vol. II: Endeavour (London: HMSO, 1961), p. 5; Medlicott, II, p. 387; Hinsley, II, pp. 235–73. ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 1, 11–16, frames 737, 747–52, RG 226, NARA; see also W.W.Rostow, Pre-Invasion Bombing Strategy: General Eisenhower’s Decision of March 25 1944 (Aldershot: Gower, 1981), pp. 16–19; see also Medlicott, II, p. 62. For detail on early negotiations regarding R&A economic intelligence work, see John D.Wilson, ‘Future Liaison of COI with English Organizations Engaged in

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24.

25.

26.

27. 28. 29.

30.

31.

Economic Intelligence’, 11 May 1942, Folder 1824, Box 128, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. Wilson to Donovan, 23 June 1942, ‘Conference with Colonel Hughes’, Folder 21, Box 84, Entry 92; Wilson to Russell H.Dorr, 29 August 1942, Folder 1301, Box 87, Entry 146; ‘Notes on Talk with Chandler Morse, 20 November 1942’, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; ‘Possible Work for Eighth Air Force by Office of Strategic Services’, attached to Dorr to Col Robert L.Bacon, G-2 Eighth Air Force, 18 August 1942, Folder 1824, Box 128, Entry 146; ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 1, 11–16 (citing 12 September for EOU’s inception), frames 737, 747–52, RG 226, NARA; see also Rostow, Strategy, pp. 16–19 (which cites 13 September as EOU’s inception date). See W.W.Rostow, ‘Notes on Strategic Bombing-1944’, Folder ‘Target Potentiality Reports’, Box 1, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA; Craven and Gate, II, pp. 305–7, 349– 69, 668–81, 707–9; W.F.Craven, and J.L.Gate, et al., The Army Air Forces in World War II, Vol. III: Argument to V-E Day, January 1944–May 1945 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951), pp. 26–9, 30–8, 57–8, 65–6. On EOU targeting methodology, see ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 21–68, frames 757– 804; see also Katz, Foreign, pp. 115–18; the US Chief of the Air Staff, LtGen. Hap Arnold, actually publicly revealed the four major target systems considered by the Eighth Air Force in January 1943, and his remarks were published in newspaper reports—see Morse to Kindleberger, 20 January 1943, Folder 1235, Box 84, Entry 146; on EOU work, see Depres to Mark Turner of MEW, 15 February 1943, Folder ‘Washington Letters’, Box 2, Entry 77, and Depres to Morse for Donovan, and ‘The Development and Work of the Enemy Objectives Unit London’, 4 May 1943, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145; Col H.A.Berliner to Donovan, 10 May 1943, Folder 2315, Box 155, Entry 146; C.P.Kindleberger to Hughes, 15 March 1943, Folder ‘Aiming Points’, Box 6, Entry 77; see also ‘History of OSS/R&A’, Folder 16, Box 73, Entry 99, which notes that A-2 (USAAF intelligence) was the ‘only consistently friendly organization to the OSS’; all in RG 226, NARA; see also ‘The Defeat of the German Air Force’, in David MacIsaac (ed.), The United States Strategic Bombing Survey, Vol. III (New York: Garland, 1976); W.W.Haines, Ultra and the History of the United States Strategic Air Force in Europe vs. the German Air Force (Frederick: University Publications of America, 1980, 2nd printing, 1986), pp. xvi; and Hinsley, III, (1), pp. 291–322. Webster and Frankland, II, pp. 5–6; Webster and Frankland, IV, pp. 153–65. EOU comparison of area and precision methods in ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 44–7, frames 780–3. ‘The Effects of Strategic Bombing on the German War Economy’, pp. 6–8, in MacIsaac, I: ‘Speer’s work was more the result of brilliant improvisations than a single well thought-out plan’, notable for the piecemeal, not widespread, exploitation of mass production techniques. Webster and Frankland, II, pp. 245–68; Sir Charles Webster and Noble Frankland, The Strategic Air Offensive Against Germany, Vol. III: Victory (London: HMSO, 1961), pp. 10–13. ‘Doctrine of warfare’ quote, ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, p. 50, frame 786; see Murray, Luftwaffe, pp. 161–9.

136 AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON

32. Marshal of the RAF Lord Tedder, With Prejudice (London: Cassell, 1966), pp. 489, 503–4; ‘Professor Zuckerman’s Report on Air Attacks on Road and Rail Communications in Sicily and Southern Italy’, 28 December 1943, AIR 37/749, PRO; see the following in Folder ‘H.N.Barnett, Transportation’, Box 1, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA: ‘Operation ‘Overlord’, Delay and Disorganization of Enemy Movement by Rail’, n.d.; Draft Minutes of 6th Mtg of the Allied Air Force Bombing Committee, 24 January 1944; Kindleberger to Hughes, 8 February 1944; ‘Program of Attacks Against Enemy Military Transport and Supplies in Support of Ground Forces in the Western Front’, n.d.; Extract from Mediterranean Allied Air Force Weekly Intelligence Summary, 7 January 1944; see also the correspondence in Folder ‘MAAF’, Box 2, Entry 77; see also Solly Zuckerman, From Apes to Warlords, 1904–46: An Autobiography (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978), pp. 221, 231–3; Lord Zuckerman, ‘The Doctrine of Destruction’, New York Review of Books 37, 5 (29 March 1990), p. 3. 33. On early interest in rail, see Dorr to Morse, 14 November 1942, Folder 1301, and Dorr to Kindleberger, 12 June 1943, Folder 1304, both in Box 87, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA; on EOU oil analysis, see Rostow, Strategy, pp. 33–4, 52–3, and ‘Oil Refineries and Synthetic Oil Plants’, 1 January 1944, ‘Petroleum: Summary and Conclusions’, 10 January 1944, both in Folder ‘Target Potentiality Reports’, Box 1, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. 34. On EOU vs. Zuckerman, see ‘Critical Analysis of “Delay and Disorganization of Enemy Movement by Rail”’, 7 February 1944, Folder ‘H.N.Barnett, Transportation’, Box 1, both in Entry 77, RG 226, NARA; see also Zuckerman, Apes, p. 226; on personalities, see Rostow, ‘Economist’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 51–2; on Kindleberger, Charles P.Kindleberger, The Life of an Economist: An Autobiography (Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell, 1991), pp. 84–9. 35. On the futility of ball-bearings, see Medlicott, II, pp. 409, 415–16. 36. Spaatz’s enthusiasm for rail bombing, and the advice on managing him, is in Coombs to Kindleberger, 2 January 1944, Folder ‘MAAF’, Box 2, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. 37. On convincing Spaatz through Hughes, see Rostow, Strategy, pp. 32–3, and ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 80–1, frames 816–17; on Kindleberger and bridges, see Kindleberger, Life, pp. 83–8. 38. On rail counter-arguments, see ‘Technical Comments by the Railway Research Service’, 15 March 1944, AIR 37/514, PRO; cf. Kindleberger, Life, 85–6. 39. Harris view in Minutes of 11th Meeting of Allied Forces Bombing Commanders, 15 February 1944, AIR 40/732, PRO; see also Murray, pp. 249–62; on his commitment to supporting OVERLORD, see Harris, Bomber, p. 192; Probert, Harris, pp. 289–97; cf. Zuckerman, Apes, pp. 222–5, and Zuckerman, ‘Doctrine’, p. 3. 40. ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 68–82, frames 804–18; Rostow, Strategy, pp. 3–14, 36– 51; Kindleberger, Life, pp. 85–7; see also Zuckerman, Apes, pp. 243–6, and p. 257, which notes that EOU did not stress the bridge alternative in its original criticisms of the rail plan; Craven and Gate, III, pp. 72–9. 41. Rostow, Strategy, pp. 113–15 for the 31 March 1944 Spaatz-Eisenhower memo; for Fifteenth Air Force, see also MAAF ‘Air Attack on the Axis Oil Supply’, 27 March 1944, Folder ‘MAAF Reports, Oil’, Box 2, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. 42. See ibid., pp. 52–6, and n. 28, which detail the alleged threat of resignation.

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43. Ibid., pp. 56–65; see also Tedder, Prejudice, p. 537, and Sir John Slessor, The Central Blue: Recollections and Reflections (London: Cassell, 1956), pp. 567–8; on bridges, see ‘Draft Plan for Air Attack Against Enemy Rail Communications’, 5 May 1944, ‘The Effort Against Seven Seine Rail Bridges’, n.d., both in Folder ‘H.N.Barnett, Transportation’, Box 1, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. 44. ‘Bombing Attacks on French Railways, Jan.–Aug. 1944’, AIR 40/371, PRO, and Rostow, ‘Economist’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 53–4 for EOU’s role; on the rail programme’s effects, see Bombing Analysis Unit Report No. 1, 4 November 1944, AIR 40/669, PRO; cable, SI Staff London to SI Staff SHAEF, 24 June 1944, Folder 1029, Box 104, Entry 136; see also H.W.Liebert to E.S.Mason, 20 July 1944, ‘The Role of R&A/Algiers and R&A/London in Recent Target Activities’, Folder ‘Economic Subdivision’, Box 3, Entry 37; both in RG 226, NARA; ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 82–103, frames 819–40; cf. the French intelligence reports submitted by EOU on 8 August 1944, in Folder ‘H.N.Barnett, Transportation’, and Zuckerman’s rebuttal, 21 August 1944, to Air C-in-C, AIR 37/719, PRO; on RAF, see Harris, Bomber, pp. 195–209; see also Craven and Gate, III, pp. 156–9; Hinsley, III, (2), pp. 106–23, 497–505; Bomber Command’s sorties are detailed in Middlebrook and Everitt, Diaries, pp. 521–63; USAAF sorties in R.A.Freeman, with A.Crouchman and V Maslin, Mighty Eighth War Diary (London: Jane’s, 1981), pp. 234–336. 45. See Rostow, Strategy, pp. 79, 82–4, 119–21; see also Rostow, ‘Economist’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 52–5. 46. On 3/4 figure for bombs dropped on Europe, MacIsaac, I, p. xviii. 47. War Cabinet Technical Sub-Committee on Axis Oil, AO (44) 31, 3 April 1944; AO (44) 32 (Final) (also JIC (44) 153), 14 April 1944; and AO (44) 34 (Final) (also JIC (44) 168), 23 April 1944, all in CAB 77/24; see also JIC (44) 218 (O) (Final), 27 May 1944, PREM 3/332/1 (all in PRO); and JIC (44) 301 (O) (Final), 20 July 1944, Reel 29, frames 1059–70, 1074–9, which stress the combined effects of bombing oil and transportation; see also S. Alexander to Kindleberger, 30 March 1944, Folder ‘London Letters Out, 27/7/43–31/5/44’, Box 4, Entry 52, RG 226, NARA, which stresses the vulnerability of German synthetic stocks once Ploesti was overrun; for optimism over oil results, see JIC (44) 320 (O) (Final), 24 July 1944, frames 1091–9; and JIC (44) 344 (O) (Final), 7 August 1944, frames 1110– 14; both in Reel 29, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; for a lucid discussion of the technical details pertaining to synthetic oil plants and oil refineries, see the British Ministry of Home Security report in Folder ‘Oil—Miscellaneous’, Box 1, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. 48. Tedder, Prejudice, pp. 609–12. 49. Zuckerman, Apes, pp. 337, 343–4. 50. See Saward, Harris, pp. 343–4 (for ‘afterthought’); Harris, Bomber, pp. 220–8. 51. On JOTC/CSTC organization, see CSTC Working Committee (Oil) Bulletin No. 1945–19, AIR 40/1262, PRO. 52. JOTC Working Committee (Oil) Bulletins (output percentages observed in each report): 9 (29 August 1944) details the Romanian surrender, and Polish situation; SHAEF Weekly Report No. 6, 2 September 1944, Folder ‘Oil Memoranda’, Box 2, RG 226, NARA, gives the 50 per cent crude figure; JOTC Bulletin data are also found in the cables in Folders ‘June–July 1944’ and ‘August–September 1944’,

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53.

54.

55.

56.

57.

Box 3, Entry 6, RG 226, NARA; see Harris, Bomber, p. 228, and Saward, Harris, p. 412, on loss of Romania and Poland. JOTC Working Committee (Oil) Bulletins in Box 1, Entry 79, RG 226, NARA: Bulletins Nos. 4 (25 July 1944), 5 (1 August 1944), and 6 (8 August 1944) detail German repair work; 8 (22 August 1944) details the need to re-bomb repaired plants; CSTC Working Committee (Oil) Bulletins in Box 6, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA: 19 (7 November 1944), and 1945–4 (23 January 1945), detail underground plants; 22 (28 November 1944) details ‘extensive repair efforts of the enemy’; cf. W.J. Gold to Philip Horton, 13 November 1944, Folder 364, Box 316, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA, quoting EOU’s Nat Pincus regarding the failure to date to destroy completely any plants, on how all plants were as yet significant producers or potential producers, and on using labour for repairs; Harris, Bomber, p. 229 on German repair corps and underground plants; Webster and Frankland, IV, pp. 347– 8, details German reconstruction efforts in Speer to Bormann, 16 September 1945. CSTC Working Committee (Oil) Bulletins: 1945–4 also details the imminent capture of Silesia; 1945–5 (30 January 1945) covers the effects of the capture of Silesia; 21 (21 November 1944) details the inactivity of plants in western Germany, and the ‘substantial production’ (66 per cent level) of central and eastern plants. CSTC Working Committee (Oil) Bulletins: 1945–14 (3 April 1945) for advance to the Ruhr, and ‘stranglehold’ quote; see AO (46) 1, 8 March 1946, ‘Oil as a Factor in the German War Effort, 1933–1945’, AIR 8/1019, PRO; and see also ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 104–13, frames 840–9; R.C.Cooke and R.C.Nesbit, Target: Hitler’s Oil: Allied Attacks on German Oil Supplies, 1939–1945 (London: William Kimber, 1985), pp. 108–73; Craven and Gate, III, pp. 172–8, 280–7, 640–6; and Webster and Frankland, III, pp. 47, 225–43. JOTC (Oil) Bulletins Nos. 12 (19 September 1944), 13 (26 September 1944), 14 (26 September 1944), 15 (10 October 1944) detail the lack of PR (JOTC No. 15 details problems encountered in interpreting Romanian plants); CSTC Bulletins Nos. 16 (17 October 1944), 17 (24 October 1944), 20 (14 November 1944), 24 (12 December 1944) detail the lack of PR coverage; 21, 26 (26 December 1944) detail working off PR deficits; the minutes of CSTC 8th Mtg, 6 December 1944, AIR 40/ 1269, PRO note the technical problems encountered in winter PR over Germany; see Ursula Powys-Lybbe, The Eye of Intelligence (London: William Kimber, 1983), pp. 34–45, 152–67, on photo interpretation in bomb damage assessments; ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 114–17, frames 851–4, also covers assessment; see also Webster and Frankland, III, pp. 210–11; the USSBS reports on oil bombing are in David MacIsaac (ed.), The United States Strategic Bombing Survey, Vol. V (New York: Garland, 1976). CSTC 1945–19; see also CSTC Bulletins Nos: 19, on blind bombing done in the first week of November due to bad weather; 25 (19 December 1944), on how raids of 30 November produced ‘minor’ or ‘negligible’ damage; 1945–4 on the German exploitation of bad weather for repairs; see also David MacIsaac (ed.), Strategic Bombing in World War Two: The Story of the United States Strategic Bombing Survey (New York: Garland, 1976), p. 159, and US Strategic Bombing Survey (USSBS), Overall Report (European War) (US Government Printing Office, 1945), pp. 29, 108, on repetition of attacks; on weather considerations, see ‘Frequency of Weather Conditions Suitable for Bombing Northwestern Germany’,

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58. 59. 60.

61. 62. 63.

64.

65.

66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72.

73.

74. 75.

7 November 1942 Folder 21, Box 4, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA (half of the days and nights in winter were considered good enough for bombing, with large-scale operations less possible in winter). ‘Use of 3cm H2S for Locating Specific Objectives’, 19 January 1944, Folder 20, Box 4, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. The report on ‘Bombing Accuracy, USAAF Heavy and Medium Bombers in the ETO’, is in MacIsaac (ed.), III. Eighth Air Force ‘Memorandum on the Selection of MPI and Bombs and Fuzes for Attacks Against Synthetic Oil Plants’, 7 November 1944, Folder ‘Oil Memoranda’, Box 2, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, pp. 21–68. Harris, Bomber, p. 229; see also pp. 224–5 on weather. Ibid., pp. 230–2; CSTC 4th Mtg, covers Bomber Command’s effectiveness against Ruhr oil; see chart, SASO (SB) Bomber Command in AIR 14/906, PRO for comparative tonnage dropped on oil targets; see also Probert, Harris, pp. 305–7. Hinsley, III, (2), pp. 505–32, accuses Harris of deliberately flouting his superiors to the detriment of the oil offensive without considering the implications of weather and aiming factors to its execution; cf. Middlebrook and Everitt, Diaries, pp. 582, 591–2, 599, 614, 617–21, 628, 644, 646, 652–5, 658–62, 664, 666–85, 689, 691–2, 698 for the realities of Bomber Command attacks on oil between September 1944– April 1945; on the shortcomings of the Hinsley interpretation, see Alfred C. Mierzejewski, ‘Intelligence and the Strategic Bombing of Germany: The Combined Strategic Targets Committee’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence 3, 1 (Spring 1989), p. 83. Portal-Harris correspondence in AIR 8/1020, and 8/1745, PRO; see Messenger, Harris, pp. 178, and 174–84 on the whole oil issue; cf. Saward, Harris, pp. 343–4, 352–64, and Cooke and Nesbit, Target, p. 187. Portal to Harris, 20 January 1945, AIR 8/1020; Harris to Portal, 6 November 1944, AIR 8/1745; both in PRO. 2 March 1945 memo on the Air Commanders’ Conference held at SHAEF on 1 March, AIR 14/913, PRO. Minutes of conference of 4 January 1944, AIR 14/913, PRO. D.C.T.Bennett, Pathfinder (London: Goodall, 1988), p. 211. For EOU’s view of Harris as relatively unenthusiastic about oil, see Rostow, ‘Economist’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 55; cf. Neillands, Bomber, pp. 338–50. On communications ranking, see the various CSTC minutes in AIR 40/1269, PRO; for CSTC mandate, see 1st Mtg, 18 October 1944. ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, p. 84, frame 820; note that this volume of the War Diary was written by W.W.Rostow (see Katz, Foreign, p. 223, n. 29); see also Mierzejewski, ‘Intelligence’, pp. 89–98. Weather problems and Hughes’s view, CSTC 2nd Mtg, 25 October 1944; lack of PR in CSTC 3rd Mtg, 1 November 1944, and CSTC 5th Mtg, 15 November 1944; all in AIR 40/1269, PRO. CSTC 6th Mtg, 22 November 1944, AIR 40/1269, PRO. Pincus/Lawrence opinions in CSTC 7th Mtg, 29 November 1944; reminder in CSTC 8th Mtg, 6 December 1944; both in AIR 40/1269, PRO.

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76. CSTC 11th Mtg, 27 December 1944; recommendations on oil over communications especially in CSTC 13th, 14th, 16th, and 24th Mtgs (10 and 17 January, 2 February, 28 March 1945); all in AIR 40/1269, PRO. 77. CSTC 25th Mtg, 4 April 1945, AIR 40/1269; see also EOU’s The Attack upon German Transport—A Dissenting Opinion’, 22 December 1944, in AIR 20/4819; both in PRO; for Pincus’s attitude, see Pincus to ‘Bill’, 13 January 1945, Box 5, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA; on rail bombing, see Craven and Gate, III, pp. 650, 655–7, 733, and Webster and Frankland, III, pp. 244–61; the USSBS reports on transportation bombing are in David MacIsaac (ed.), The United States Strategic Bombing Survey, Vol. VI (New York: Garland, 1976); cf. Hinsley, III, (2), pp. 520– 3, 526–8. 78. Tedder signed Eisenhower to Air Ministry Whitehall for DCAS, HQ USSTAF, CG SHAEF (Forward), 10 April 1945, AIR 40/1265, PRO. 79. CSTC 26th Mtg, 11 April 1945, AIR 40/1269, PRO. 80. Bailey-King to Barnett, 20 April 1945, Folder ‘Correspondence—Mediterranean’, Box 6, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA. 81. ‘War Diary, R&A, 5’, p. 84, frame 820. 82. On ULTRA and CSTC, see Mierzejewski, ‘Intelligence’, pp. 84, 95–6, and Zuckerman, ‘Doctrine’, p. 35, citing Alfred C.Mierzejewski, The Collapse of the German Economy, 1944–1945: Allied Air Power and the German National Railway (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1990); cf. the suggestive note from B. Ops. 1 to D.B. Ops., 23 April 1945, AIR 20/4819, PRO: ‘Intelligence sources indicate’ the effectiveness of transportation bombing, ‘but it is impossible to make a convincing case for this view without reference to these Intelligence sources’; MI 14/21/7/45 of 24 March 1945, AIR 40/1187, PRO shows ULTRA being used to track the activity of various depots. 83. See Mierzejewski, ‘Intelligence’, pp. 97–8; on analyst-consumer, see Laqueur, Secrets, pp. 21, 338, 343–4. 84. For differing views on bombing, cf: ‘Bomb Targets in Germany and German Occupied Countries’, c. February 1945, Folder ‘London Joint Target Group Correspondence’, Box 1, Entry 78, RG 226, NARA; Zuckerman, Apes, p. 337–8; Verrier, Bomber, pp. 317–23; Max Hastings, Bomber Command (New York: The Dial Press, 1979), pp. 277–8, 326, 330, 350; Foot, ‘Good’, p. 210; USSBS, Overall, pp. 39–45, 59–64; Russell F.Weigley, The American Way of War: A History of United States Military Strategy and Policy (New York: Macmillan, 1973), pp. 357–9; ‘Area Studies Division Report’, p. 23, in David MacIsaac (ed.) The United States Strategic Bombing Survey, Vol. II (New York: Garland, 1976); Milward, German, pp. 118, 163; and Saward, Harris, pp. 361–2, 411–12. 85. On the Ruhr as a geographic objective, see ‘The Ruhr’, n.d., n.a., Folder 20a, Box 4, Entry 77, RG 226, NARA; see also Freeman, Mighty Eighth, pp. 234–500. 86. See Middlebrook and Everitt, Diaries, pp. 497, 500–1, 607–8, 612, 625–6, 646, 676 for examples of area targeting methods against industry, and pp. 581, 595–6, 620, 635, 640, 649, 663–4, 676, 686–8, 693–8 for efforts against rail; see also Overy, Air War, pp. 119–26, 205–11. 87. See Richard Ruggles to Sidney Alexander regarding an interview with Professor Rudenberg, 8 January 1943, Folder ‘Industrial Reports’, Box 3, Entry 34 (which states that electricity was very vulnerable); ‘Target Potentiality Report IIIA’, 5

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88.

89.

90.

91. 92. 93. 94.

95. 96.

97.

January 1943, and ‘Electric Power as a Military Objective’, both in Folder ‘Target Potentiality Reports’, Box 1, Entry 77; all in RG 226, NARA. MEW’s assessment of Germany’s electrical supply of August 1943, FO 837/446, was distributed to EWD, and despite noting that 87 per cent of all electricity was used by industry, and that ‘German industry [was] almost wholly dependent on electricity for motive power’ (80 per cent of all motors were electric), MEW concluded that German excess capacity made the electrical system ‘resistant to attack’; MEW’s assessment was the same in late 1944—see the FO and MEW Enemy Branch report of November 1944, FO 837/448; both in PRO; cf. Kindleberger, Life, p. 75. MEW Intelligence Weekly Report No. 169, 3 May 1945, citing the captured ‘Bulletin of the German Ministry of Armament and War Production’, 10 February 1945, AIR 8/602, PRO. Webster and Frankland, IV, pp. 384, 391; see also Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich, trans. Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Macmillan, 1970), pp. 278–9, 284–6, 346–7, and the record of his interrogations contained in Webster and Frankland, IV, pp. pp. 375–95, and ‘German Electric Utilities Industry Report’, in MacIsaac (ed.), VI, which states that bombing electricity would have had a ‘catastrophic effect on Germany’s war production’; see also ‘The German Electric Power Complex as a Target System’, in Haywood S.Hansell, Jr, The Air Plan That Defeated Hitler (New York: Arno Press, 1980), pp. 80–1, 161, 260–2, 286–97, which stresses the viability of bombing electric power while still accounting for weather and repair factors; Craven and Gate, III, pp. 789–92, note the failure to see the inter-connectedness of economic systems, while pp. 794–802 note the success of oil, and p. 801 discusses electricity; Kindleberger, Life, p. 75, disputes electricity’s vulnerability. See Webster and Frankland, III, pp. 242–3, on the decisiveness of oil, and pp. 302– 4, on MEW and Bomber Command’s lack of confidence. This paragraph’s quotes and narrative are from ‘War Diary, R&A, 3, (i), pp. 179– 87, frames 630–8. On political documents from exile governments, see J.D. Wilson to Brinton, 26 April 1943, Folder 94, Box 8, Entry 145, RG 226, NARA. For R&A frustration with its access to SI intelligence and SI reporting work, see ‘SI and R&A Relations’, n.a., 26 May 1943 (and SI’s response, n.a., c. June 1943), Folder 40, Box 103, Entry 92; Brinton to Langer, 4 May 1943, Folder 1296, Box 86, Entry 146; and Sherman Kent to Applebaum, 13 March 1944, Folder ‘Executive Officer’, Box 3, Entry 37; all in RG 226, NARA. On SI disseminations compared with R&A’s, see Minutes of Intelligence Committee, 1 March 1944, Folder 66-A, Box 00005, Entry 115, RG 226, NARA. See Gen. Magruder to Langer, 13 March 1944, Folder 685-A, Box 50, and Morse and Haskell to Forgan, 26 May 1944, Folder 1235, Box 84, both in Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. For detail on SI-R&A document sharing, see Alan Scaife to W.H. Shepardson, 13 January 1943, Folder 47, Box 27; Scaife to Shepardson, 4 February 1943, Folder 9, Box 238; both in Entry 92, both on handling Broadway Most Secret documents, and T.W.Reese and P.Horton to Forgan, 17 May 1944, Folder 1235, Box 84, Entry 146; on ‘curb service’, see Morse to Bruce, R&A Progress Report, 7 July 1944, Folder 3, Box 2, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA.

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98. For a comparison of SI-R&A developments in Washington, see J.R.Forgan to Shepardson and Langer, 10 November 1943, Folder 23, Box 2, Entry 145, ‘Evaluation of Intelligence Material’, 28 December 1943, and J.A.Montgomery to Magruder, 19 February 1944, both in Folder 865, Box 64, Entry 146, and S.A. Callisen to Magruder, 22 March 1944, Folder 103, Box 14, Entry 137; cf. Langer, ‘Branch’, pp. 24 (on Magruder’s work), and 27 (Langer’s opinion that R&A ‘must’ have ‘all’ incoming intelligence, and that R&A should even ‘be in a position to direct the intelligence-collecting activities of other parts of the organization’); all in RG 226, NARA; cf. Charles D.Ameringer, US Foreign Intelligence: The Secret Side of American History (Lexington: Lexington Books, 1988), pp. 163–4. 99. Narrative from ‘War Diary, OSS/London, SI Branch, Vol. 8, Reports Division’, pp. 1–9, 30a-58, 101–3, 119–33, and see also pp. 10–21, 103–18, 133–63, 233–52, 269–75, for sources and consumers, pp. 22–30, 59–75, 89–101, 163–202, 252–68, on methods of processing and assessing reports (including SUSSEX material), in OSS/London, Reel 8; see also ‘Summary Report of Overseas Duty of Maj. Harold J. Coolidge’, n.d., Folder 46a #2, Box 11, and ETO Officers Pouch Report, 14 September 1944, citing S-038–906 of 15 August, Folder 39, Box 9, both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; see also William Colby and Peter Forbath, Honorable Men: My Life in the CIA (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978), pp. 55–6. 100. R&A Progress Report, 1 September 1944, Folder 4, Box 2, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 101. Haskell and Morse to Chiefs SI and R&A, Washington, 12 September 1944; see also the objections to the proposal in J.E.O’Gara to W.H.Shepardson, 27 September 1944, and response to ‘Comments on the O’Gara Memo of 27 September’, n.d., n.a., all in Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 102. This paragraph is based on ‘War Diary, SI, 8’, pp. 202–13, 222–24, 275–87; ‘War Diary, R&A, 3 (i)’, p. 187, frame 638; ‘War Diary, R&A, 3, (ii)’, pp. 243–50, frames 696–703. 103. Schlesinger to Morse, 13 October 1944, Folder 337, Box 314, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 104. On space problems, R&A Branch Progress Report, 16 November 1944, Folder 7, Box 3, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 105. This paragraph is based on ‘War Diary, SI, 8’, pp. 283, 324–9; ‘War Diary, R&A, 3, (ii)’, pp. 251–60, frames 704–13; see also R&A Branch Progress Report, 30 November 1944, Folder 7, Box 3, Entry 99; Donovan to Bruce, 6 December 1944, Folder ‘SI-R&A Relations’, Box 5, Entry 37; Evans to Schlesinger, 18 October 1944, Folder 337, Box 314, Entry 190; cf. Philip Horton to W.J.Gold, 10 November 1944, Folder 254, Box 310, Entry 190; cf. Field Report of B.Homer Hall, 20 October 1944, Folder 46a #1, Box 11, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA; see also Schlesinger, ‘Historian’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, p. 67. 106. This paragraph is based on ‘War Diary, R&A, 3, (ii)’, pp. 260–4, frames 713–17; for SI vs. R&A comments on reports prior to dissemination, see S.A.Callisen to Chief, SI, 29 November 1944, Folder 103, Box 14, Entry 137, RG 226, NARA; cf. Cave Brown interview with William Colby, 17 August, 1980, Donovan Papers, USAMHI, where Colby credits Donovan with forming ‘an organizational pattern for American intelligence’ by ‘having the intellectuals and the operators in the same club’.

6 Inspired Improvisation: William Casey and the Penetration of Germany

SI’s penetration of Germany in 1944–45 after the French campaign has been characterized as an effort that collected ‘minutiae’ at great risk with insufficient depth to benefit the Allied armies.1 British intelligence was allegedly lukewarm to the whole plan given Nazi Germany’s intense counter-espionage climate, the lack of a supporting German resistance movement, the American use of leftist agents, and the presumed pointlessness of risking agents when the ‘profitable exploitation of ULTRA’ SIGINT offered so much operational material.2 The reality of the matter was quite different. OSS/London’s experience in these German operations actually demonstrated its largely untapped potential for coordinating individual branch resources toward a common goal. The intelligence produced by OSS agents was in fact prized by the military, which fully supported its collection in Germany. While OSS/London did indeed press on regardless of the British clandestine services’ lack of enthusiasm, the British reticence owed little to the supposed operational difficulties, the efficacy of ULTRA, or the presumed dangers of using leftists. The British were instead mindful that any American success where SIS and SOE feared to tread underscored Britain’s inability to execute operations of consequence during the European war’s closing phase. The functional fragmentation problem still complicated SI’s coordination of operations with SFHQ, but the fact that OSS contributed what it did owed much to the drive and skill of a single officer who rose from the position of staff functionary to that of SI branch chief in the ETO. The penetration of Germany demonstrated William J.Casey’s singular adeptness at harnessing OSS/London’s disparate assets into a more cohesive force as SI led the London mission toward a unique degree of operational independence. Casey thus combined the experience previously gained along side the British with his own brand of ‘inspired improvisation’ to achieve a measure of operational relevance which surpassed most expectations.3 SI presciently envisaged in April 1943 that ‘Germany [was] a free territory for intelligence and all planning should look towards an invasion of the continent’ when SI would ‘be asked to secure American intelligence from France and…be able to move forward with the army and drop agents ahead of the army right up to the frontier and into Germany itself’.4 SI also anticipated the likelihood that ‘there was a real source for agents from Prisoners of]/W[ar]’ since many of them

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in France were not Germans at heart, and hated Nazism. Once identified and trained, they could ‘be sent at once back into German lines to secure operational intelligence’.5 The need to solidify its status in the ETO and to plan for collecting intelligence with SIS in support of the Normandy invasion (the SUSSEX plan) obviously intervened, but subsequent events undeniably bore out SI’s foresight. Even before OVERLORD, an OSS/London Intelligence Planning Committee was established ‘in an attempt to formulate and coordinate plans of the several branches in respect to the development of work on the continent’.6 The successful execution of OVERLORD, and with it SUSSEX, eventually provided a real impetus for German operations based on SHAEF’s goodwill and enthusiasm for continued OSS espionage. The OSS ETO Report revealed as early as 24 June 1944 SHAEF’s willingness to ‘support SI’ in any ‘work directed against Germany’, particularly since SHAEF had no plans of its own.7 The SHAEF G-2 Operational Intelligence chief, Colonel Foord, subsequently admitted to one OSS officer in August that SHAEF ‘had no specific intelligence objectives in mind beyond the general fact that little was known of operational matters within Germany, and that any information regarding location, strength, and movement of troops and supplies, together with the state of morale, was of interest’; another SHAEF officer ‘admitted that they simply had not done any planning for tactical intelligence about Germany’.8 SI consequently appointed a Chief, Continental Division on 29 June to formulate continental espionage plans, but it soon transpired that its ‘proposed joint SI/SIS project for the penetration of Germany’ had to be ‘dropped’. Although it was intended as a ‘German Sussex Plan’, Broadway rejected it without providing any specific reason.9 The Acting Chief of SI Continental Division’s German Section, Major Aubrey H.Harwood, recalled that he ‘was instructed to contact Major Gallenne, Chief of the German Section, SIS, with a view to developing such a plan’ in mid-July. After several meetings with Major Gallenne and his staff (including Major Day and Lieutenant-Colonels Gardner and Brook), it ‘was recognized that the problem was entirely different from the one which the Sussex plan was developed to meet, as in that case the personnel [were] recruited by the French authorities’ to operate ‘in friendly territory with Reception Committees and safe addresses established in advance’. Gallenne and Brook both mooted the possibility of securing ‘the necessary personnel…among the German prisoners of war’, or alternatively from German refugees and Dutch, Belgian, and French contacts. ‘After several meetings and considerable discussion…and learning that it was the consensus of opinion that prisoners of war were not desirable, a plan was finally drawn up to be known as the Kent plan’. This envisaged SI and SIS together recruiting 10 teams each consisting of an observer and W/T operator from the Allied agencies, German refugees, and as a ‘last resort’, German prisoners. With the 20 July attempt on Hitler’s life and ‘other complications and considerations’, Broadway’s Commander Kenneth Cohen then advised OSS/London chief David Bruce ‘that SIS had decided not to go ahead with’ KENT.10

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SI/London was thus blessed with the opportunity to realize its long-term espionage aims under the auspices of SHAEF, but cursed with the fact that its proposals were deflected by the British. However frustrating Broadway’s attitude may have appeared, SIS coolness toward OSS plans stemmed from a real inability to participate as a full partner in any German scheme. Its most obvious shortcoming concerned agent recruitment. While SI had confidently considered using enemy prisoners as agents in 1943, SIS, SOE, and the Political Warfare Executive had met on 10 February of that year ‘to discuss ways and means of recruiting from among enemy Ps/W, personnel who might be of use’. It was nevertheless ‘agreed that in view of the difficulties to be surmounted’, SIS and SOE would be best served by recruiting prisoners for SIS/SOE ‘in the forward areas by their representatives on the spot’.11 Not even this expedient was deemed worth pursuing by the following August. ‘It was finally decided that the difficulties in the way of using Ps/W for MI6 purposes, other than within the UK were too great to make this practicable’ (SI ironically enough set about establishing liaison with the British office responsible for P/W intelligence matters—MI 19(a)—just as MI6 turned its back on the whole matter).12 SIS thus forfeited a viable agent source in 1943 that would have been a critical asset in 1944. Broadway also suggested to Harwood that their section heads ‘were opposed to requesting personnel from the Allied agencies’ (French, Dutch, Belgian) because ‘personnel previously made available had suffered very high casualties’, thereby making them unsympathetic to further recruitment. SIS also doubted the prospects of physically getting agents into Germany, and thought that counterfeiting German documents ‘was a tremendously difficult undertaking’, if not in some cases ‘a practical impossibility’ (as seen in Chapter 3, Broadway encountered enough problems meeting its documentation requirements in France despite enjoying years of preparation). The ‘prospect of revolution in Germany’ and the difficulties of rapidly formulating a training course further mitigated against mobilizing limited resources for penetrating Germany. Another unspoken factor may have been Broadway’s fear of SI’s ability to build on the SUSSEX effort when Broadway could not: Harwood was told by Gallenne that SIS interpreted the rules under which SI operated as requiring British approval and ‘active collaboration’ in any intelligence work. Harwood also found ‘a certain reluctance to putting the cards on the table with [SI’s] British counterparts, and a general feeling which seemed to be one of suspicion towards [SI’s] dealings with the other Allied agencies in general’. Given SI’s subsequent independent development of PROUST in France, Broadway’s tight-lipped lack of enthusiasm for KENT evidently betrayed a sensitivity to the paucity of SIS resources, and doubts about its ability to participate as first among equals in such a plan. SIS was hardly going to advertise these delicate considerations to OSS.13 If OSS/London still hoped to penetrate Germany after the Normandy campaign, it had to rely on its own devices; but it was still an open question which OSS branch was best suited for the task. While SHAEF admittedly backed

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SI, it also supported possible SO efforts into the Reich. The close relationship between SO and SHAEF staff officers was expected to facilitate SO’s August plans for controlling and coordinating all OSS efforts for penetrating Germany.14 William Donovan stressed as much in a 2 September memo on future central European OSS operations: SHAEF had ‘accepted the principle we urged of unblocking the joint control of [OSS/SOE] in such operations’, recognizing ‘that to carry on aggressive subversion behind enemy lines we must vest authority in our forward echelons’; OSS thus had to ‘do with its own force what previously [it] had done largely through resistance groups [it had] organized and trained’.15 This purposeful air doubtless contributed to SHAEF’s anticipation in midSeptember that SO would play a significant role both before and after the German surrender, and to SHAEF’s approval for SO and SOE to work independently (but under SHAEF control) in Germany.16 SO’s Central European Section (CES) was particularly enthusiastic about SHAEF plans for using special raiding groups against personnel, documents and military objectives behind enemy lines immediately preceding advancing allied forces. CES’s appreciation still sounded a cautionary note: ‘The fact remains, as before, that we have only a few agents, and our plans must be made accordingly, as there is no prospect of obtaining others’.17 This 13 September caveat was subsequently borne out in a matter of days. The 18 September SO Progress Report declared that time constraints and ‘a lack of suitable personnel’ were handicapping plans for Germany.18 An October report also noted that since SHAEF’s German policy remained undefined, future OSS planning had been held up, although a draft SO/ SOE Policy Directive for Germany had been submitted to SHAEF at the end of September.19 The difficulties facing such activities were reflected in a 24 September report to the British-Canadian 21st Army Group’s Planning Staff from SOE’s Lieutenant-Colonel M.A.W.Rowlandson. The British perspective did not hold out much hope for spectacular SOE-SO operations within the Reich since there was no contact with any organized German resistance groups. This naturally reduced the prospect of obtaining tactical military intelligence on the scale enjoyed in France and Belgium. Rowlandson still suggested considering ‘groups and individuals who [could] be contacted and to assess their possible value to our operations’. These included foreign workers inside Germany (who might possibly be loosely coordinated for random sabotage), individual Germans thought from pre-war information to be anti-Nazi (but more pro-German than pro-Allies), and a few ‘coup de main’] currently earmarked for retrieving German documents from newly captured installations. The question of effective communications, however, made these possibilities problematic. Couriers were ‘very slow’, and two-way W/T was ‘considered NOT to be hopeful’.20 Rowlandson’s tentative analysis underscored the difficulties obstructing the formulation of German plans. It also betrayed the sabotage services’ lack of planning for German operations, as SOE was evidently grasping at any potentially expeditious means of serving the military through penetrating Germany. This desperation also influenced the possibilities for SO activity. One

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SO officer recalls how in late 1944 the branch had not yet received any material from its German desk for planning a German mission. There was no information at all on dissident groups with guerrilla potential. He was also told that internal security was ‘as tight as a drum in Germany’, and that Germans historically deferred to authority.21 SO was thus sufficiently hard up to entertain a visit from a US pilot who believed that he could have himself shot down over Germany and, in the process of interrogation, work his way into the confidence of responsible German officers to such an extent that they— recognizing the inevitability of defeat and the possibility of saving their own skins—might be willing to surrender in the entirety. This proposal was not accepted.22 More seriously, it transpired toward the end of October that the British sector of operations obviated SOE infiltration and exfiltration between Germany and the British-Canadian 21st Army Group given the short direct front with Germany and the difficult terrain. SHAEF therefore desired SOE to operate out of 12th US Army Group’s sector, which had a sizable contiguous front with Germany, and very suitable terrain in Luxembourg.23 This was potentially ideal for SO since it established a good foundation for American domination, but that was not to be. While the 1st US Army approved SOE activities in its sector, SO was largely superfluous to these efforts. SI attributed this to ‘the unspoken politics of the situation’ surrounding G-2 1st US Army’s overt hostility toward OSS, while the Chief of SO/London went so far as to suggest that OSS lacked ‘real representation in, for example, the Lowlands Mission [including Luxembourg], that it was run by the British who would like to have it appear joint’.24 In actuality, SO’s problems stemmed less from SOE deviousness than from a lack of SO resources. SO admitted to suffering from a deficit in German speakers for these operations, while also lacking ‘personnel to serve in a liaison capacity between SO and SOE’. At this problem’s root was the branch’s failure to plan for German operations before the end of September given its active concern with French operations.25 The best that SO could manage by mid-January 1945 was the conclusion that foreign workers presented a mounting obstacle in Germany, and a plaintive request for ‘a firm directive from SHAEF, stating whether or not plans should be laid for future delivery, [and] whether OSS (SO) [was] to work as an independent agency’.26 This directive, broadly authorizing SO ‘to conduct activities to hasten the surrender or disintegration of the German armed forces by subversive activities in Germany, directed towards bringing about the downfall of Germany from within’, proved forthcoming on 29 January, but SO still could not get anything off the ground.27 As SHAEF concluded about SOE’s German activities after the war, they ‘cannot be said to have hastened the end of, or affected the course of the war’ beyond creating anxiety over internal security and straining German

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administration. There was evidently little accomplished by clandestine sabotage in Germany beyond providing a latent threat that was never realized.28 Since neither SOE nor SO could exploit indigenous resources within Germany, they apparently turned to assassination as a means of accomplishing something constructive. The SO Monthly Report for March 1945 noted that in Norway, a ‘well known quisling and a dangerous informer [had] both been liquidated. It has also been learned that the Chief of Police in Oslo was executed on orders issued from SFHQ.’ It was further noted that in Denmark, ‘[liquidation of informers… continued at a high rate and during a recent week as many as 10 were put away. During 1944 a total of 143 informers were destroyed.’29 SO/London was sufficiently inspired by this precedent to formulate a plan for direct action against Nazi officialdom within the Reich. Designated project CROSS, it was specifically developed by the end of March 1945 in response to SHAEF’s 29 January directive. SO drew up a’program of special sabotage operations against Nazi and Gestapo personnel’, characterizing it as ‘the most effective means at this stage of the war’ to realize the SHAEF directive. SO’s stated objective involved concentrating its ‘primary efforts on the single mission of assassination of high-ranking members of the Nazi Party and Gestapo, using approximately 100 German nationals, recruited from the CALPO organization’ (the Comité de l’Allemagne Libre pour l’Ouest, or the French Office of Free Germany Committee, an organization taking ‘the same political line in Western Europe as did Moscow’s Free Germany Committee’).30 Possessed of sufficient commitment-cum-fanaticism to volunteer for work inside Nazi Germany, these communists were to serve under American commanders with the requisite communications equipment. The plan called for dispatching agents to known concentrations of Gestapo and Nazi Party officials at the rank of Major and above. Preference was for SS and SA within the Party, and for SD, Gestapo, or Kriminal Polizei within the police apparatus. The ‘organised killings’ of Nazi and Gestapo officials were expected to demonstrate the vulnerability of the dictatorship, force the targets to protect themselves and so reduce their effectiveness, and encourage similar acts among German anti-Nazis.31 It was stressed on 5 April that while personnel targets should be top priority, ‘straight liquidation would be wasteful…[and] every effort should be made by the CROSS men to question the victims first to extract from them as much information as possible prior to the final coup de grace’. To help facilitate the accurate application of torture, a certain Mr Stefan Rundt was made available ‘to help the CROSS men identify the various types of officers’, and to ‘brief them on the type of information to be extracted from the victims’.32 Two days later, it was revealed that the proposed tactics would involve surveilling specific Nazi headquarters, identifying the Nazi officials, ‘and then taking the necessary action’. It was further stressed that it made ‘no difference’ who they were so long as they were ‘officials of some importance’. As a final note, it was observed that ‘so called “small-fry” as secretaries, cable-boys, telegraph operators, and the like may prove to be a highly important source of information, and consequently

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should not be overlooked’. This was because such individuals were deemed more ‘approachable’ than the ‘big shots’, and perhaps more knowledgeable than their superiors.33 All of this relentlessly ruthless planning ultimately came to naught, however. When briefed on 11 April by Colonel J.R.Forgan, OSS/London’s new chief, the Director of OSS vetoed the project. Donovan ‘feared too many repercussions would be entailed from the employment of CALPO agents on such a project’, and that ‘the plan would invite only trouble for OSS’. While agreeing that the idea of kidnapping Gestapo personnel or Nazi leaders was ‘legitimate’, Donovan said ‘that a plan entailing wholesale assassination was not to be considered’, and ordered it withdrawn.34 Since SO’s efforts were repeatedly confounded after the French campaign, the prospects for meaningful OSS operations against Germany thus rested squarely with SI, even though its summer 1944 KENT plan for SI/SIS espionage in Germany was aborted by Broadway’s inability to participate. The renaissance of SI’s German prospects ultimately centred around the development of OSS/ London’s planning bureaucracy, and with it the innovations of a minor staff member. The London mission utilized a Staff Operational Committee before OVERLORD to formalize policy developments within its branches, and one junior officer participating in the committee as a ‘free-lance’ minute-keeper and secretary was former business lawyer William J.Casey.35 As head of American intelligence some forty years later, Casey attracted considerable opprobrium for his alleged role in politically controversial activities. Observers duly characterized him as a largely guileful and devious political operative with a typically American ‘can-do’ approach fostered during his experiences of covert intelligence and money-making, with the mystique of his OSS background adding to his reputation as a veteran ‘spook’.36 Casey’s role in penetrating Germany suggests a more measured assessment, however. His memoirs clearly illustrate a strong sense of personal allegiance to William Donovan while downplaying his own leading role in events, a circumspect loyalty replicated for his president as Director of Central Intelligence.37 Casey’s ‘can-do’ mentality may also be more subtly described on the basis of his wartime work as a goalorientated tenacity of purpose married to a keen grasp of how to satisfy his superiors’ vaguely defined needs. This attunement to his leaders’ wishes and problems, the ability to construct workable solutions, and the competence to make the most of available resources in executing them were the hallmarks of Casey as inspired improviser. All of this accounts for how Casey became the major force behind SI/London’s effective mobilization of OSS assets at a time when there seemed to be little hope of accomplishing anything of consequence in Germany. By 6 June 1944 Casey was formally designated the OSS/London Secretariat, tasked with overseeing the running of David Bruce’s office, and with embodying a staff-capacity for the OSS/London leadership by bringing policy matters to their attention.38 Casey soon realized, however, that SI’s long range plans were largely non-existent or still-born. This was particularly obvious after Casey

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returned from an August Mediterranean trip where he observed the use of Ps/W as agents for the potential penetration of Austria and southern Germany.39 The experience contributed to Casey’s own thinking on the matter, whereupon he penned a lengthy memo to David Bruce on 11 September outlining his views on ‘Urgently needed discussions’. Casey submitted that there was an ‘immediate need for basic top policy decisions’ concerning geographic and functional organization for controlling the penetration of Germany, and regarding agent recruitment. Casey also stressed the need for ‘clear decisions on who [would be] responsible for what in the next phase’. Casey went on to detail some obvious innovations for which OSS was uniquely suited: Geographic unification Within the next few weeks there will be a single target—Germany— and limited resources for the job. This seems to call for some degree of central direction of and pooling of resources for the attack on the target. We are short on agent material, German speaking officers, safe houses, reception possibilities, operational intelligence etc. Full and continuous exchange of information on operational plans, safe houses, reception facilities, radio sets, etc., is a minimum requirement when operations are conducted from MED[iterranean]T[heater of]O [perations] and ETO against the same target. However, it is submitted that even the closest liaison will not yield maximum effectiveness in the penetration of Germany. What is needed is a single direction and control. Some one person on the spot in Europe should be able to decide where the limited number of agents available should be used… Functional unification It is equally vital that limited German resources be stretched to cover the German job without regard to Branch lines. This is one time when we must make the most out of the advantage which OSS has over [its] British counterparts by having SO, SI and M[orale]O [perations] in one organization. We do not have enough potential agents to adequately cover Germany. We just cannot afford to try to develop a network for SI, another for SO and another for MO. The situation calls for us to throw everything we have into penetrating Germany and covering it adequately. When that is done the network can be used for SI, SO and MO purposes as and when appropriate. SI, SO and MO each have German speaking bodies and staff officers but none of them have enough to cover the German job [individually]. Potential German agents are too scarce for them to

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compete in recruiting, which they are now doing. They must make common use of safe houses, radio and reception facilities. They must not be allowed to build up three networks in one area and leave other important areas uncovered. Right now SI has a…plan worked out with SHAEF which will provide lift into Germany for SI German speaking bodies in the event of a collapse. Because SI worked this plan out there has been no provision for SO and MO German speaking bodies who might be useful in the event of a German surrender. The Italian experience establishes the feasibility of multiple purpose agents. There all agents, whether SO or SI in origin, procure intelligence, support resistance and sabotage and aid in the distribution of black propaganda… Moreover, at certain times intelligence procurement is the most valuable thing agents can do, at other times [it’s] operations and at still other times propaganda distribution will be the most valuable use of agents. In preparation for an action intelligence may rate top priority, during an action sabotage may be most useful and after an action has succeeded propaganda to exploit the setback to the enemy may be most effective… Organizationally the basic alternatives seem to be as follows: (a) A separate task force is set up for the penetration with a director, staff and all available agents. SI, SO and MO perform their supplementary functions and use the network developed as previously indicated. (b) SI is assigned to carry out the penetration and takes over MO and SO agent resources. This on the theory that SI now has the great bulk of agent resources and plans for penetration of Germany and that the intelligence job is basic and preliminary to satisfactory MO and SO work. (c) The branches continue to function independently under the loose coordination which a committee or staff can achieve. Casey went on to recommend appointing a single geographic authority for the penetration of Germany; establishing a separate penetration task force using all branch resources; SO having its activities and personnel ‘adjusted accordingly’; and for ‘someone [to] be designated to organize and run an all out recruiting drive for agent material suitable for Germany’.40 Casey’s recommendations immediately bore fruit. Since Donovan was then present in theatre, he sanctioned OSS/London’s creation of an ETO Planning Board on 13 September 1944, ultimately formalized on 4 October 1944. With representatives from each branch under the chairmanship of SI Chief Whitney Shepardson, its primary task involved the ‘integration of all new Office of Strategic Services operations’.41 This was to be accomplished by ‘mobilizing

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ETO resources for the penetration of Germany’, and by Casey’s initiation of ‘geographic functionalism’ through consolidating efforts among OSS’s Mediterranean, ETO, Swedish, Iberian, and Swiss outposts.42 Since Shepardson particularly stressed the imperative of ‘mobilizing the resources of the various Branches against the common target’, Casey was also assigned on 16 September the responsibility for summarizing how these various branch assets might be combined so that ‘an inventory of Branch resources and plans’ could be studied by the Planning Board as a whole.43 Casey presented his paper on 12 October. It emphasized that while the functions necessary for penetrating Germany involved several branches, they ‘were closely connected with each other, and could not be handled in water-tight compartments’. Casey’s analysis therefore ‘gave form to this [integrationist] tendency in planning’ by proposing the creation of ‘a staff along functional lines’ to cover efforts involving foreign workers, agent penetration, and countermeasures.44 These recommendations were soon acted upon with Donovan’s ‘enthusiastic approval’.45 A Plans and Operations Staff (OPSAF) accordingly replaced the Planning Board on 27 October, being responsible to David Bruce for executing the Planning Board’s previous mandate for German operations. All plans would be submitted to OPSAF for approval and recommendation, while Casey was left responsible for geographic consolidation and the ‘foreign workers problem’.46 Although Casey could help mobilize OSS resources, OPSAF’s contribution floundered since the branches resisted OPSAF’s authority to direct all of their operations geared toward the penetration of Germany.47 With OSS/ London’s fragmented branch organization stymieing OPSAF’s ability to realize the functional and geographic integration so clearly necessary for the penetration of Germany, Casey’s personal influence would become even more necessary to maintain momentum for the operation’s successful execution. SI’s relatively sluggish performance before Casey’s critical promotion at the beginning of December bears out the importance of his influence. In many ways, SI started out duplicating the British services’ unpromising achievements. The OSS Planning Board heard on 19 September a degree of pessimism ‘about the feasibility of placing intelligence teams inside Germany’. It was ‘British policy… to send intelligence teams into Germany only if they had a safe house where the agent could hide and be fed and German contacts which he could use to get information which would be radioed from the hiding place’. The British apparently enjoyed minimal success to that point since ‘they had only one working radio inside Germany’.48 The Board later attributed this difficulty primarily to the strictness of German controls, suggesting that the ‘opportunity for satisfactory penetration of Germany [was] exceedingly slim’.49 Existing SIS and SOE efforts now focused primarily on handling French, Belgian and Dutch agents for clandestine operations, their earlier doubts about these sources having been overcome.50 OSS freely agreed to provide its ‘clearances for British operations in the American sector’ in keeping with SHAEF’s directive concerning British work in the more geographically convenient American

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frontage with Germany. This process was defined by mid-October as occurring either through OPSAF in the case of all SOE work and those MI6 operations originating in Britain, or through SO’s Colonel Canfield and Commander Cassidy for MI6 continental operations. The British services would then arrange their own infiltrations through the OSS Field Detachments in the appropriate sectors; the British reciprocated to OSS in the British-Canadian sector.51 This willing cooperation notwithstanding, the fact remained that the French, Belgian, and Dutch agencies only provided a limited number of suitable personnel to the British services.52 It is clear, then, that whatever their protestations about the ‘prohibitive difficulty of direct penetration without the assistance of resistance groups and friendly local populations’, the truly debilitating factor was the lack of agents available to the British given their eschewal of Ps/W in 1943. SIS and SOE were as a result only able to insert a combined total of just over 30 agent teams into Germany before war’s end.53 SI’s pessimistic view in the second half of September was obviously understandable given the presumed link between the efficiency of German controls and the poor British showing. Together with OPSAF’s inertia, it accounts for SI’s tentative start in agent insertion. A September inventory of OSS/London’s combined branch resources revealed that there were ten SO agents and 81 SI agents capable of living under cover in Germany. Twenty additional SI assets could function if Germany’s controls collapsed. The consistent fear of German controls combined with the USAAF’s ‘unwillingness’ to fly into the German interior, however, created a feeling by December that ‘Germany was too tough a nut to crack’.54 SI thus expected in September that only four American-controlled agents would be inside Germany by 30 November.55 This indeed transpired, but since the agents lacked communications, they did not produce current intelligence.56 Momentum fortunately began to gather at this point, as David Bruce decided before departing for the US in midDecember that all OSS/London assets ‘should be pooled into one operating machinery for the penetration of Germany, that the SI assets would form the nucleus of this machinery, and that the task of getting agents into Germany would be an SI responsibility, with SO and MO turning their personnel over to SI’. Bruce was essentially enforcing acceptance of Casey’s ideas. SO did not fully embrace this decision, and resisted making some of its personnel available to SI until Colonel J.R. Forgan, Bruce’s replacement as OSS/London chief, flatly overrode SO’s objections.57 The implementation of Casey’s ideas was facilitated by SI’s restructuring in November 1944 immediately before Whitney Shepardson’s departure, and Casey’s fortuitous appointment as SI/London chief effective 1 December. This promotion placed the truly dynamic force within OSS/London in the strongest possible position to realize his ideas. Organizationally, SI intelligence objectives were now defined by a new Division of Intelligence Direction, while a Division of Intelligence Procurement (DIP) was set up to coordinate all SI resources, and to direct and control all penetration operations.58 DIP’s immediate priority was

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agent recruitment and training, the great crippler of SO and British schemes. The largest source of potential agents within SI was the branch’s Labor Division (thanks to its contacts with European labour groups), but this element was geared primarily toward short-range tactical missions. Deep penetration missions conversely took between four to six weeks of preparing an agent with supplementary training and the necessary documents. This time was necessary for ‘getting to know’ the agent, mission formulation, acquiring briefing directives, obtaining clothing, security vetting, and receiving formal mission approval from OPSAF.59 That September, a forward base had been established in Luxembourg for radio training and agent recruitment, but the rapid pace of military operations was too great for it to conduct long-range planning (now concentrated in London), confining it instead to medium/short-range infiltration teams.60 Codenamed MILWAUKEE FORWARD, its profile may have been too high to be completely successful anyway. One OSS officer recounted to a colleague in December that a man ‘turned up at Milwaukee Forward…and said that he wanted a job as a secret agent for the US Government. Of course, they clapped him in the clink but discovered later that he had been referred to OSS by the local G-5 [Civil Affairs Staff Officer], How’s your cover?’61 The bulk of DIP’s agents accordingly had to be collected from a variety of sources, subject to British clearance procedures (the SI War Diary specifically notes that the ‘British…never took advantage of their security powers’ to ‘prevent OSS from using certain types of agents’).62 Ps/W were still excluded, but members of resistance movements in recently liberated countries with contacts among German dissident or worker organizations were of particular interest for DIP canvassing efforts. Church dissidents, veterans of the Spanish Civil War, and communists (including several CALPO members) were all sources of agent trainees.63 The French, Polish, Belgian, and Dutch intelligence services were also pressured by OSS liaison teams and the respective SI country desks to provide any suitable bodies for insertion in the guise of conscripted foreign workers (the most significant OSS liaison missions were Paris; ESPINETTE in Brussels, Belgium; and MELANIE in Eindhoven, Holland).64 Agent training by the Poles, Belgians, etc., was done locally, while for London-controlled missions, it was conducted mainly in England: parachuting at Ringway, basic SI training lectures at Area F’ at Ruislip.65 Training facilities had not been set up before 14 October because previous instruction of OSS agents had largely been done jointly with SIS or SOE. Personnel training for DIP’s German work, however, was now the sole responsibility of OSS/London (by the end of December, the Schools and Training branch noted that its teaching material included ‘a dozen [unnamed] books of the most technically interesting spy stories. More [were] being procured’).66 The Censorship and Documents branch produced fake documents, although the BACH section of SI’s Labour Division was subsequently transferred to DIP in January 1945 to aid in cover and briefing; the Research and Development branch handled agent equipment. The success of these supporting elements placed ‘OSS in a position where the British

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came to OSS for help on German cover stories and documents more often than the reverse’.67 A singularly critical development concerned communications. This involved an invention of a radio set by Dewitt Goddard of the RCA corporation which enabled air-to-ground communication. Using an extremely high frequency, the sets were hand held and transmitted a directional coneshaped beam. The frequency and directional features made it resistant to anything but the most elaborate enemy direction-finding equipment, and the aircraft with which the agents communicated could fly at high altitude without betraying the agent’s location. The system, codenamed JOAN ELEANOR or J/E for short, was also secure enough to permit plain voice transmissions; this was an improvement over the KLAXON system employed by SUSSEX teams in Normandy.68 The problem of deep agent air dispatch (as opposed to overland from Holland and Belgium) was addressed by the US Army Air Force’s provision of A-26 medium aircraft for parachute delivery. This method would begin operating on 1 March 1945, thereby supplementing the expedient use of B-24s.69 As DIP’s necessary mobilization of OSS resources gained momentum, the issue of employing the agents to support the military was also resolved. The December 1944 German Ardennes offensive had naturally ‘resulted in an acute awareness that Allied forces were going into Germany blind and in a genuine appreciation of the intelligence that had been extracted from France both before and after the invasion’.70 The Ardennes offensive had in fact caused an immediate demand for tactical intelligence ‘as the battle developed’, making for ‘an intensification of short-range infiltration under the direction of the various field detachments’ attached to the armies (note that the separate SI, SF, and SCI detachments were merged into unified OSS detachments with each HQ in October 1944); ‘results were apparent in increased short-range tactical penetrations of the German lines and in the joint effort of the Brussels [ESPINETTE] mission and SIS to build up a network of stay-behind teams in German-overrun areas’ (in part by using German Ps/W) ‘provided [SHAEF] G-2’s permission were secured and the prisoners were not registered by the Red Cross’.71 This experience obviously accounted for the US Army’s renewed appreciation for OSS intelligence, which manifested itself in early January 1945 when Casey, Forgan, and Gamble met with the G-2s of the 6th and 12th US Army Groups, and of the 3rd and 7th US Armies (1st US Army G-2 B.A.Dickson had already made it clear on 20 December that he ‘did not desire tactical assistance from OSS’ except under 12th AG). All of these men were very strong in their view that it was of much greater importance to have agents placed the other side of the Rhine in key transport centers than to have agents move a few miles across the line and return. They were acutely interested in what OSS could produce in the way of that kind of intelligence during the first half of 1945. They were planning on the necessity of fighting through to the fall of 1945, and they had been shaken

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into an acute awareness of the dearth of intelligence by the Runstedt [sic] offensive. General Sibert [G-2 12th AG] said they were going blind into Germany and that they did not want to overlook any bet which might yield intelligence of a strategic nature. General Harrison [G-2 6th AG]… protested against an excessive caution, pointing out that we should not hesitate to take risks with our agents while a thousand men a day were being killed along the front. Colonel Forgan was able to assure him that we had already decided to abandon any caution which might have characterized… previous [OSS] efforts to penetrate Germany. At that time we were able to report plans of putting nine and ten teams in the southern sector, but we had almost nothing of interest to promise the 12th Army Group…[given] the unwillingness of the Air Force to fly north of Stuttgart.72 This was gratifying support for OSS/London’s programme, but it created a conflict between the agent requirements of the tactically-orientated Field Detachments, and the strategically-focused DIP effort. Casey ‘[strove] to strike the best balance possible’, but the ‘necessity to develop a program of strategic intelligence in Germany’ was his chief priority for resources.73 MELANIE’s impressive ‘coverage of military activities in northwest Germany (through the facilities of Dutch BI [Bureau of Information])’ largely resolved this conflict.74 In SIRA’s opinion, the Eindhoven OSS liaison team accounted for half of all OSS/ETO intelligence over the last quarter of 1944, and more than 80 per cent of OSS material quoted by SHAEF’s daily intelligence digest.75 While this performance was deemed ‘astounding’, it was accomplished despite the ‘sloppiness’ of Dutch intelligence in Eindhoven, whose handling of agent operations appalled Dutch resistance leaders inside occupied Holland. This actually played into MELANIE’s hands by giving the Dutch resistance confidence in OSS. Moreover, while MELANIE organized local agent missions, it gave the impression that they were nominally handled by the Dutch. Since MELANIE was operating in Holland in the British Army’s zone of operations, it felt ‘driven to wangle it all…without making BI feel it [was] a long way off the ball’.76 This was necessary to get the job done, and Dutch intelligence did not seem to mind—‘BI [leant] itself contentedly to so effort saving an arrangement’.77 OSS even went so far as to label its Holland reports as ‘Dutch Intelligence Reports’ since the facade of BI competence was necessary to ‘preserve the reality of the American Intelligence producing and handling machinery in Holland’ (SIS did likewise concerning its reports from Holland).78 MELANIE thus effectively carried the burden of tactical intelligence in northern Germany with great success, and all ‘under the constant and hawklike watchfulness of [its] local Cousins’, who would ‘pounce on the first serious slip’ MELANIE made ‘and use it to their advantage’ (SIS sensitivity may have stemmed from the willingness of 21st Army Group’s Brigadier General Staff [Intelligence] to allow OSS work in his sector provided there was a full exchange

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of intelligence; this despite SIS complaints about OSS ‘duplication’ and ‘general confusion’).79 With OSS in a position to cover north German tactical intelligence, and to launch a serious deep penetration effort across the Rhine, Casey’s project was finally able to act on the months of planning and improvisation. Up to midFebruary, a total of 12 OSS teams were dispatched to Germany, and one to occupied Holland; there were eight from the Labor Desk and one former MO team sent under SI/London’s auspices, one each from MELANIE and the 9th US Army OSS Detachment, and three from the 7th US Army OSS Detachment. The first three Labor Desk missions used the slow courier method of communication, including the initial agent codenamed DOWNEND, who parachuted without reception on 1 September to gather intelligence for OSS and organize resistance for SOE. DOWNEND’s experience represented this method’s weakness: only two pouches of intelligence materials were exfiltrated, while SOE and the agent could not agree on the location or safety of proposed drop zones for arms and supplies. Once overrun on 9 April, he was able to provide tactical intelligence and names of further ‘pro-Allied’ contacts in the Ruhr (the other two missions, RUPPERT and RAGWEED, were infiltrated overland to Berlin and the Ruhr in November). Two of SI/London’s agents were ‘tourists’, dropped 50 to 100 miles behind enemy lines (ECLIPSE to Dusseldorf in December, and HOFER to Austria in January) and ordered ‘to follow a prescribed route and to check specific points on the way back to the American lines’. Two teams using conventional W/T equipment (RUBENS and STUDENT) were inserted in January and February; one using the J/E system (TYL) went in on 10 November. REUBENS and TYL were, however, soon captured.80 The February–March moon period then proved detrimental to oper ations, with seven straight days of bad weather scrubbing ‘all operations’ toward the end of February. London managed to dispatch only five of 12 operations in this period, the rest being nullified by weather, poor coordination with the Air Force, or poor conditions at the second-rate Lyons airfield relied upon because of the weather. Of the 7th US Army operations, three tourist teams returned with reports (MIMI, COCO, LULU), but W/T team PITT established only brief contact before capture, another (DUBUQE) was killed, while J/E team TROY disappeared after initial contact.81 It was ‘the climactic Allied offensive’ of the Rhine crossing that allowed OSS teams to mount a truly ‘large-scale penetration of enemy territory’.82 The massive airborne operations connected with the Rhine crossing coincided with the greater availability of aircraft and radio equipment for air-dropping agents.83 In anticipating the Rhine offensive, 12th US Army Group G-2 Brigadier General Sibert requested ‘coverage of Frankfurt, Giessen, Arfurt, Fulda and Kassel’, all of which ‘were laid on in a few days’, including London missions OLD FASHIONED (Geissen, W/T), PINK LADY (Erfurt, W/T), and HIGHBALL (Kassel, W/T).84 Three particularly successful missions were HAMMER (J/E) dropped near Berlin on 2 March; CHAUFFEUR to Regensberg on 31 March (W/

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T-J/E); and DOCTOR (W/T) in Austria on 23 March.85 A further 20 teams were air-dropped, and eight infiltrated overland, during the 6–18 April dark moon period. With Allied armies ‘driving deep into Germany’, they were ‘appealing for intelligence on the Reduit, Berlin, and Leipzig areas’.86 Sibert and Casey decided that it would be best ‘to concentrate missions along the Elbe because the concern at that time was whether or not and how soon the Germans would divert divisions from the Eastern to the Western front’. Teams were accordingly placed in Chemnitz (MANHATTAN, W/T), Leipzig (BUZZSAW, J/E), Magdeburg (ORANGE BLOSSOM, W/T), Wittenberg (TOM COLLINS, W/T), and Plauen (FARO, J/E). Although there was considerable coverage of strategic areas, the W/ T equipped teams usually failed to make contact, while the J/E teams got through.87 As for the Reduit (or Redoubt), this was the rumoured area for ‘a lastditch stand’ in the Bavarian, Austrian and Italian Alps.88 These areas of Germany, along with Berlin, were therefore all that remained for the OSS teams by the next moon period (19 April to the 7 May German surrender). A final 18 missions were launched: six each from 7th US Army and London, and two each from the French intelligence service (DGER) and 9th US Army. The London teams included VIRGINIA and GEORGIA (both on 24 April with reception by DOCTOR) in Austria with W/T. The most successful German missions inserted during the month of April were those equipped with J/E: PICKAXE (Landshut, near Munich, 4 April), and LUXE I (Wilheim, Southern Bavaria, 4 April).89 The effectiveness of the missions was influenced by a number of variables. Two constraints which OSS could do little to control were weather and the pace of military operations. The penetration missions could not go into full swing until 1 March because problematic weather conditions complicated the air drops. The interruptions delayed the deployment of many teams, thus reducing their effectiveness. The DOCTOR team delivered near Munich particularly suffered from a ‘loss of [a] month’s working time in the field’, which ‘undoubtedly reduced [its] value considerably’ (this by implication delayed inserting VIRGINIA and GEORGIA).90 Equally significant was the fact that while the military had specific applications for the missions, the ‘advance of the Allied forces’ after the Rhine crossing ‘[was] so swift that operations were continually being scrubbed and shifted to new targets. This steady state of being off balance was best expressed when the chief of SI’s Belgian desk moaned, “General Patton is screwing up all my operations”.’91 OSS often felt pressure to ‘concentrate their energies to directly support the Army Groups’ in covering ‘priority targets’, defined before the Rhine crossing as key rail junctions, choke points, marshalling yards, and Rhine rail bridges.92 The armies afterward tended to want teams placed ‘at a point of immediate Army interest in itself rather than as a transport center’, after which ‘the team would be overrun before it could get started’. Casey subsequently noted that the most successful missions ‘were spotted near the Elbe and down toward the southern reduit. Here the teams had time to get settled and produce, and there is no getting away from the fact that it takes

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anywhere from 3 weeks to 3 months for a clandestine team to become really productive’.93 The most significant variable affecting the teams in the field was the reliability of available communications methods. Here, J/E teams clearly outperformed those equipped with conventional W/T. W/T was potentially ‘the most reliable and satisfactory’ method, but only if the teams using it were ‘given time to get settled’. DOCTOR and CHAUFFEUR fortuitously fell in with the Austrian resistance and with French-Belgian deportees respectively who could offer them a safe location with sufficient power to run their radios. DOCTOR then received VIRGINIA and GEORGIA, and J/E team LUXE received a W/T for its later work. ‘Most of the other WT [sic] teams encountered great difficulty’ in securing power and a safe location ‘and just didn’t have time to get their WT working before they were overrun’. The teams using the smaller, simpler, more secure J/E system in contrast ‘got started much more quickly and it was possible to plan on a contact shortly after [a successful] drop’.94 Out of 85 attempted contacts with 14 J/E teams, 38 were successful (44.75 per cent); 40 were unsuccessful with no response from the ground (47 per cent); and seven were failures due to mechanical problems with the J/E set or with the aircraft (8.25 per cent). This compares well with the 29 out of 41 W/T missions who made no contact at all before being over-run, an almost 71 per cent rate of communications ineffectiveness (DIP tried to compensate for the W/T delays by relaying any agent W/T messages directly to SI Reports Division and any relevant military detachments without translation for their immediate handling).95 The combined OSS effort under DIP coordination thus accounted for a total of 102 missions through London, the Army detachments, and through the liaison missions (86 by air). Fifty-seven of the 102 were judged successful, 26 as failures, and ten as unknown.96 Of the 46 teams directly sent from London, 15 were judged fully successful; seven partially successful; and 24 were ‘classed as failures although they contacted advanced American infantry units and gave reports of some tactical value’. Of the London W/T teams, only five of 27 made successful contact. Reasons for these failures included four W/T sets being lost or damaged in parachuting, five sets failing to function outright, six teams being dropped too far from their targets before being overrun, two teams being injured in dropping, two more being overrun almost immediately after landing, and two teams’ documents leading to their arrest [these were the only two document failures by OSS branches Censorship and Documents (CD) and Research and Development (R&D)]; one other team went missing. As for the nine London J/E teams, five were successful, while one team was lost with its aircraft, one other lost its equipment, and the other two never made contact. Losses had been anticipated to run as high as 50 per cent, but the 46 London teams actually suffered three known dead, three captured, and one missing.97 The intelligence gleaned from the missions was relatively ‘small in quantity but of high quality… Coverage was good in areas like Munich, the Redoubt and Berlin where the teams had considerable time to work, and poor in Western

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Germany where they were rapidly overrun by the advancing armies.’98 Casey noted that ‘[virtually all of the teams were able to supply valuable tactical intelligence to the troop elements which overran them’. In efforts that could have proven useful to SO’s CROSS project, three teams penetrated the Sicherheitsdienst and Gestapo (including one each in Berlin and Munich), and others identified many local Nazis.99 SIRA/Paris circulated only one report from SI/ETO assets in February 1945, but five J/E and W/T teams produced intelligence during March; three of these became unproductive by the end of the month through overruns, etc. Of the March production, there ‘were a single report from a source in Oberhausen providing some purely tactical information [,]…seven excellent tactical reports from Dinslaken, and identification of elements of the 116th Panzer Division and 84th Infantry Division which were of strategic interest’. A single report was also received concerning a resistance group near Munich, while a Berlin report contained ‘miscellaneous local industrial and communications data’ of obvious relevance to targeting air bombardment. A further two reports contained several useful troop identifications from a source in Mannheim which was thereafter overrun.100 SI/London’s German operations thus provided the military with precisely the kind of information it wanted at a time when the exploitation of ULTRA material declined given the German Army’s increased use of land-line communications as it retreated into the Reich. Since reduced radio usage ensured that German troop movements and locations were betrayed less often, the utility of agent reports relative to ULTRA grew accordingly.101 The military’s repeated demands for agents on shallow missions to report tactical intelligence, and their support of missions to the Elbe and the supposed Redoubt area, both indicate their need for intelligence on the state of German installations, defences, and troop movements as they drove deeper into the Reich. A post-war assessment by G-2 12th AG specifically noted that OSS agents helped provide the balance of information regarding routes of enemy withdrawal and strong defensive positions supplemented by prisoners and air-photo coverage.102 The fluid advance into Germany combined with the disintegrating German defence to obscure the military picture, and the high-quality intelligence of OSS agents gave American G-2s timely insights into enemy defences and the dubious prospects for a last-stand bastion in the Alps. No other source of intelligence was as useful in reliably discerning such details in the closing months of the war, and it must be stressed that these evaluations of the penetration’s significance did not originate from within SI alone, but from knowledgeable consumers like G-2 and SIRA.103 The British effort in Germany appears paltry in comparison with OSS/ London’s. Whatever minimizing has been done of SI’s penetration programme, its 102 missions far outstripped the 30-plus British missions. The delay in initiating planning, the weather, the pace of the Allied ground advance, and the communications difficulties may have complicated SI’s work, but Casey’s programme far exceeded that managed by the established British services; his ‘British colleagues were amazed at the volume [of operations] finally

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attained’.104 SIS and SOE admittedly overestimated the potential problems in penetrating Germany (difficulties which declined as the Reich’s internal chaos helped loosen its controls), but their efforts were most significantly crippled by an inability to shift from French to German operations.105 They lacked agents, equipment, and communications, the proffered reservations about Ps/W and French, Dutch, or Belgian personnel notwithstanding. Most of all, they were split into two distinct services. While OSS/London long reflected this fragmentation, it managed to overcome the branch primacy inherited from its previous joint operations with the British. It did so because Casey recognized the futility of a nominally centralized organization scattering its efforts to the point where they individually accomplished nothing. The innovations he pushed—particularly geographic and functional integration—allowed OSS to capitalize on its inherent advantage over the British services through SI. It was thus William Casey, not William Donovan, who made SI an independent realization of American espionage.106 There would never have been 102 OSS missions if the cumulative assets of SI/London, the Field Detachments, and the liaison missions had not been coordinated by Casey’s DIP, and none of these integrationist ideas originated with Donovan. The British services obviously never achieved this measure of combined operations, and OSS suspicions that MI6 held back its German intelligence were groundless—Broadway had painfully little to hold back (SI Reports Division actually attributed camouflaged ULTRA intelligence from the SHAEF Daily Digest to fixed W/T ‘SIS agents in Germany’. Indeed, the division believed that ‘all but a few [pieces of data] were received by w/t [sic] from the source’; truer than they realized since OSS was not generally a recipient of ULTRA).107 William J.Casey therefore enabled OSS/London to transcend its debilitating fragmentation, and to realize a unique accomplishment in the intelligence war. Whatever his future experiences as DCI, it must be conceded that the penetration of Germany owed much to Casey’s abilities. Casey showed what OSS as a whole could do when it acted less like a collection of independent branches and more like a coherent, unified service. By effectively directing OSS/London toward an audacious intelligence objective, he orchestrated one of the mission’s most noteworthy achievements of the Second World War. By building on the espionage successes in France, SI again impressed the military, among them the future governors of post-hostilities Germany. OSS/London’s success in building on its British links in counter-espionage would likewise be fruitful, although its forays into propaganda would prove much less impressive. NOTES 1. ‘Minutiae’ description: Miller, Spying, p. 297; lack of benefit to armies: B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 296–7.

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2. British lukewarm and ULTRA: West, Secret War, pp. 242–3, and West, MI6, p. 379 —on ULTRA, see also Joseph E.Persico, Piercing the Reich: The Penetration of Nazi Germany by American Secret Agents during World War II (New York: Viking, 1979), p. 14; Ambrose, Ike’s, p. 143 claims that OSS had only four men in Germany who produced no intelligence. 3. ‘Inspired’ remark on OSS in general by Gordon Craig in 1991, cited in MacPherson, ‘Conference Report’, p. 513. 4. The 1943 plans are in ‘Meeting of London Branch SI to consider operational base in London’, 23 April 1943, Folder 424, Box 319, Entry 190; the remarks on Germany are by OSS/London head David Bruce; see also SI Branch Report, European Theater Report, August 1943, Folder 1a, Box 1, Entry 99; both in RG 226, NARA. 5. The P/W point was made by SI’s Stacey Lloyd in the ‘Meeting’, 23 April 1943. 6. ETO Officers Pouch Report, 12 June 1944—see also ETO Officers Pouch Report, 2 June 1944, citing memo Maddox to Haskell of 22 May; both in Folder 38, Box 9, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA.. 7. European Theater Office Report, 24 June 1944, Folder 35, Box 8, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; ETO Officers Pouch Report, 12 June 1944. 8. SHAEF admissions: Maj. Ides van der Gracht to Robert MacLeod and George Pratt, 21 August 1944, Folder 325, Box 314, Entry 190—see also van der Grachtt’s SI Liaison Officer Progress Report for 15 August–11 September 1944, Folder 5, Box 2, Entry 99; ETO Officers Pouch Report, 10 July, 1944, Folder 39, Box 9, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA. 9. ‘OSS Activities, July 1944’, Folder 117, Box 93, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 10. ‘Report by Maj. Aubrey H. Harwood on OSS, SI Activities’, 4 November 1944, Folder 46a#3, Box 11, Entry 99; see also cable #61884, Bruce to Donovan, 20 July 1944 seeking guidance on future SI plans and German planning, Reel 77, Entry 180; both in RG 226, NARA. 11. On 10 February 1943 meeting, see MI 19(a) War Diary, Summary of Events, February 1943, WO 165/41, PRO. 12. The ‘finally decided’ quote is from MI19(a) War Diary, Summary of Events, August 1943, WO 165/41, PRO; the War Diary also cites 15 August 1944, rather than 1943, as the date of liaison establishment with OSS, but this appears to be a typo-graphical error as 1943 makes more sense from the document’s context. 13. Harwood report; see also Persico, Piercing, p. 14. 14. European Theater Office Report, 10 August 1944, Folder 36, Box 8, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 15. Donovan quote is from ‘Future Office of Strategic Services Operations in Central Europe’, 2 September 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA; see also Peter Wilkinson and Joan Bright Astley, Gubbins and SOE (London: Leo Cooper, 1997), pp. 211–13. 16. European Theater Office Report, 12 September 1944, Folder 36, Box 8, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 17. Stewart Herman, to Col Haskell, 13 September 1944, Folder 5, Box 2, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 18. SO Semi-monthly Section Progress Reports, 1–15 September 1944, dated 18 September 1944, Folder 5, Box 2, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA.

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19. SO Progress Report, 28 September-13 October 1944, dated 13 October 1944, Folder 6, Box 3, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 20. Lt-Col M.A.W.Rowlandson to Brigadier General Staff (Plans), ‘Possible SF Assistance to 21 Army Group Operations in Germany’, 24 September 1944, WO 205/208, PRO; Stafford, Resistance, p. 187, states that Germany became the ‘first priority target for SOE activities’ in August 1944, and that this was too late to accomplish much; on German resistance in general, see Hans Rothfels, The German Opposition to Hitler: An Appraisal, trans. Lawrence Wilson (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1962), especially p. 153 (opposition ‘could never be a mass movement’); Anthony Williams, ‘Resistance and Opposition amongst Germans’, in Hawes and White (eds), Resistance, pp. 135–69; Mary A.Gallin, German Resistance to Hitler: Ethical and Religous Factors (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1961); Allen Dulles, Germany’s Underground (New York: Macmillan, 1947); Allan Merson, Communist Resistance in Nazi Germany (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1985), especially pp. 234, 276, 288–303; James Donohoe, Hitler’s Conservative Opponents in Bavaria, 1930–1945: A Study of Catholic, monarchist and separatist anti-Nazi activities (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1961), p. 22 and passim; Peter Hoffmann, The History of German Resistance, 1933–1945, trans. Richard Barry (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977); John L.Snell, Wartime Origins of the East-West Dilemma Over Germany (New Orleans: Phauser Press, 1959), p. 129; Michael Balfour, Withstanding Hitler in Germany, 1933–45 (London: Routledge, 1988) (which examines reasons for the inadequate scope and effectiveness of German resistance); Klemens von Klemperer, German Resistance Against Hitler: The Search for Allies Abroad, 1938–1945 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), pp. 5–7, 315–68, 437; see also Jürgen Heideking and Christof Mauch (eds), American Intelligence and the German Resistance to Hitler (Boulder: Westview Press, 1996) and Neal H.Petersen (ed.), From Hitler’s Doorstep: The Wartime Intelligence Reports of Allen Dulles, 1942–1945 (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1996). 21. Aaron Bank, From OSS to Green Berets: The Birth of Special Forces (Novato: Presidio, 1986), p. 69—see also pp. 70–1. 22. The pilot quote is from S.W.Herman to Gerald Miller, n.d., Folder 6, Box 3, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 23. SOE and 21st/12th Army Groups, SHAEF Main, Signed Eisenhower to 12th Army Group for Sibert, 25 October 1944, and 12 Army Group Tactical HQ Sibert Signed Bradley to SHAEF Main, Attention SHGCT, 4 November 1944, both in WO 219/ 612, PRO. 24. William J.Casey to Col W.C.Jackson and Gerald Miller, 22 November 1944, Folder 1, Box 51, Entry 115, RG 226, NARA. 25. Charles E.Brebner, SO Executive Officer Report for 15–30 November 1944 SO Progress Report, 1 December 1944, Folder 7, Box 3, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 26. OSS(SO), SO Planning Section Progress Report for 1–15 January 1945, dated 11 January 1945, Folder 9, Box 4, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 27. SHAEF/17240/13/Ops (C) of 29 January 1945 noted in Col J.R.Forgan, ‘SO Branch Use of GERMAN Nationals, Recruited through CALPO, as Agent Saboteurs on Special Operations into GERMANY’, February 1945, Folder 1025, Box 272, Entry 190, and in Col E.W.Gamble, Jr, to SHAEF through G-3 Ops (C),

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28. 29. 30.

31. 32. 33. 34.

35. 36.

37. 38.

39. 40. 41.

42. 43. 44. 45.

SHAEF, ‘Special Sabotage Operations Against Nazi and Gestapo Personnel’, 31 March 1945, Folder 2113, Box 122, Entry 148, RG 226, NARA. ‘The Value of SOE Operations in the Supreme Commander’s Sphere’, c. July 1945, WO 219/40B, PRO; cf. Roosevelt, II, p. 305. SO Branch Monthly Report for March 1945, Folder 104, Box 90, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. CROSS: Gamble to SHAEF through G-3 Ops (C), ‘Special Sabotage’, 31 March 1945, Folder 2113, Box 122, Entry 148, RG 226, NARA; ‘political line’: from Casey, Secret, p. 189—note that Casey makes no mention of the CROSS project; see also Merson, Communist, p. 272, on CALPO. Gamble to SHAEF through G-3 Ops (C), ‘Special Sabotage’, 31 March 1945, Folder 2113, Box 122, Entry 148, RG 226, NARA. Maj. C.G.Hirsch, Acting Chief, CES-SO to Lt-Col Powell and Mr Manning, SO Branch, OSS/Paris, 5 April 1945, Folder 57, Box 332, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. Hirsch to Manning and Lt Henry Weldon, 7 April 1945, Folder 57, Box 332, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. ‘Minutes of Meeting with the Director Reference SO Branch Activities into Germany’, 11 April 1945, Folder 223, Box 346, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; on Donovan and communists, see Casey, Secret, p. 189, and Persico, Piercing, p. 167; cf. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 355–9. For Operations Committee, see minutes with Casey’s status in Folder 357, Box 315, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; cf. the thin account in Persico, Piercing, pp. 17–18. See Joseph E.Persico, Casey: From OSS to the CIA (New York: Viking: 1990), pp. ix–xii, 87–99, 207–29, 394–416, 550–77; Bob Woodward, Veil: The Secret Wars of the CIA, 1981–1987 (New York: Pocket Books, 1988), especially pp. 25–7, 30, 35–6, 393, 538–88; John Ranelagh, The Agency: The Rise and Decline of the CIA (New York: Touchstone, 1987), pp. 674–5; see also Robert A.Strong, ‘October Surprises’, Intelligence and National Security 8, 2 (April 1993), pp. 227–35. Casey, Secret, pp. 216, 222; see also Woodward, Veil, pp. 35–6. Casey to Col O.C.Doering, 9 June 1944; William Casey and Charles Bane to Col Giblin, 5 June 1944; see also the memo on ‘Establishment of Secretariat’, 6 June 1944; all in Folder 439, Box 232, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. MEDTO observations in Casey to Bruce and Forgan, 21 August 1944, Folder 16a, Box 33, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA, reproduced in Casey, Secret, pp. 239–49. Casey to Bruce, 11 September 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. See W.H.Shepardson to Donovan, 23 October 1944, outlining the genesis of the Planning Board, with ‘integration’ quote, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. ‘First Progress Report, Planning and Operations Board, ETO’, 26 September 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Minutes, Planning Board, 16 September 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Shepardson to Donovan, 23 October 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Cable No. 78474, Donovan (‘109’) to Bruce (‘105’) et al., 30 October 1944, Reel 82, Entry 180, RG 226, NARA.

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46. General Order No. 12, 27 October 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92; see also OPSAF ‘Standard Operating Procedures’, 2 November 1944; for continued Casey assignments, see Jackson to Forgan, 23 October 1944; both in Folder 1, Box 51, Entry 115; all in RG 226, NARA. 47. Jackson to Bruce and Armour, 30 November 1944, Folder 152, Box 212, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 48. Minutes of Planning Board meeting, 19 September 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 49. Planning and Operations Board Report, 26 September 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 50. ‘Minutes of Meeting Held at SOE HQ’, 13 January 1945, Folder 1265, Box 285, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 51. Jackson to Canfield, 23 December 1944, Folder 1265, Box 285, Entry 190; MI6/ OSS mutual clearance agreement signed by Col R.E.Brook and Col E.W Gamble, 31 January 1945, Folder 2002, Box 117, Entry 148; see also Coster to Haskell on 5 October Meeting with Brig. Williams, 21st Army Group [BGS (I)], 7 October 1944, Folder 2054, Box 119, Entry 148; all in RG 226, NARA. 52. ‘Minutes of Meeting Held at SOE HQ’, 13 January 1945, Folder 1265, Box 285, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 53. ‘Prohibitive’ quote and 30 SIS/SOE teams from Chief, SI (William Casey) to CO, OSS, ‘Final Report on SI Operations into Germany’, 24 July 1945, Folder 518, Box 325, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; this clearly numbers OSS missions into Germany as eventually totalling 102, and states that these were ‘three times those of SIS and SOE in number’, hence ‘just over 30’ British missions; Roosevelt, II, pp. 305–6, defines OSS missions as those dropped by air directly from London, a total of 34, thus misstating the basis of the one-third British ratio; West, Secret, pp. 241–2, relies on Roosevelt while badly garbling and confusing the narrative of SOE and OSS penetration; Stafford, Resistance, p. 188 states that SOE/SIS sent 19 agents to Germany, mostly for denazification efforts. 54. Planning Board Report, 26 September 1944; fear of controls also in Planning Board Minutes, 19 September 1944; both in Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 55. Planning Board Minutes, 19 September 1944. 56. Casey to Ernest Brooks and John Greedy, 12 July 1945, Folder 94, Box 300, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 57. Ibid. 58. ‘War Diary, OSS/London, SI Branch, Vol. 12, German Operations, 1945’, pp. 4–5, 10–11, in Bradley F. Smith (ed.), Covert Warfare, Vol. II: The Spy Factory and Secret Intelligence (New York: Garland, 1989); SI reorganization detail is in ‘Organization of SI/ETO’, 31 March 1945, Folder 1911, Box 111, Entry 148, RG 226, NARA. 59. Labor Division and requirements for deep penetration missions: A.E.Jolis, Labour Division, to Plans and Operations, 20 November 1944, Folder 254, Box 310, Entry 190; on agent sources, see also ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 26–7, and Stacy B.Lloyd to Donovan, 5 February 1945, Reel 125, Entry 180; all in RG 226, NARA; see also ‘War Diary, OSS/London, SI Branch, Vol. 6, Labor Division’, in OSS/London, Reel 7.

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60. ETO Officers Pouch Report, 5 October 1944, Folder 40, Box 9, and OSS Activities Report, September 1944, Folder 119, Box 93, both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 61. Unknown author to Charles Bane, 16 December 1944, Folder 984, Box 269, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 62. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 34–9. 63. Agent recruitment: Casey to Brooks and Greedy; P/W exclusion: Harwood report; doubts about the reliability of German prisoners: Report of E.M.Carroll, 12 June 1945, Folder 46a#2, Box 11, Entry 99; British and SI attitudes to German prisoners and CALPO: Report of Donald K.Adams, Folder 680, Box 49, Entry 146; all in RG 226, NARA; on agent recruitment, see also Casey, Secret, pp. 189–90. 64. OSS liaison missions: ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 90–1; Country Desks: ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, 136–402; on MELANIE and ESPINETTE, see ‘War Diary, OSS/London, SI Branch, Vol. 7, Miscellaneous Operations with Allied Services’, pp. 9–33, in OSS/London, Reel 8. 65. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 37–8. 66. ‘British opposites’: OSS Activities Report, October 1944, Folder 120, Box 93; ‘spy stories’: Progress Report on Instruction, S&T Branch, 30 December 1944, Folder 8, Box 4; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 67. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’; see also Adams report; BACH in ‘War Diary, SI, 6’, pp. 137–75. 68. Communications and J/E in ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 92–3; J/E also in Casey, Secret, pp. 186–7. 69. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’. 70. Ibid. 71. Ardennes detail: OSS Activities Report, December 1944, Folder 122, Box 94, Entry 99; merging of detachments: Bruce to All Detachments and Missions, 30 October 1944, Folder 166, Box 214, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 72. 1st US Army G-2 attitude from Lt-Col John H.Colby memo ‘OSS Operations in Zone of First US Army’, 20 December 1944, Folder 365, Box 316, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; Casey-Forgan-Gamble meeting with G-2s, including the extended quote: Casey to Brooks and Creedy—see also ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 21–2. 73. ‘Best balance’: Casey to Shepardson, S-009–107, in European-Mediterranean Pouch Review, 18 January 1945, Folder 37, Box 9; priority for resources: Forgan, Gamble and Casey to 154, 22 January 1945, in European-Mediterranean Cable Digest, 24 January 1945, Folder 41, Box 10; both in Entry 99; see also James R.Forgan to CG 12th Army Group on ‘Plans for OSS Activities in 12th Army Group Sector’, 27 January 1945, and Forgan to Donovan, 13 February 1945, both in Reel 125, Entry 180; all in RG 226, NARA. 74. OSS Activities Report for January 1945, Folder 123, Box 94, Entry 99; BI defined in Capt. G.E.Borst to G.S.Platt, Monthly Progress Report, 6 December 1943, Folder 3, Box 80, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 75. Low Countries Desk SI Report for February 1945, Folder 3, Box 80, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 76. Operational Report for period ending 17 March 1945 from OSS Mission to the Netherlands, 18 March 1945, Folder 11, Box 5, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 77. Intelligence Report for week ending 31 March from Mission Melanie, 2 April 1945, Folder 12, Box 5, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA.

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78. LaVerge to Casey, 25 December 1944 and Casey to Philip Horton, 26 December 1944, Folder 2/12, Box 2, Entry 115, RG 226, NARA. 79. ‘Cousins’: LaVerge to SI Staff, London, Attention: Dr MacLeod, 30 November 1944, Folder 2/12, Box 2, Entry 115, RG 226, NARA; 21st Army Group BGS (I) views: Coster to Haskell memo concerning the meeting with Brig. Williams, 7 October 1944, cited above; SIS complaints: ‘War Diary, SI, 7’, pp. 13–14. 80. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, p. 130, and Sheet Number 1 (‘SI Intelligence Teams Dispatched to Germany, September 1944–May 1945’); see also Roosevelt, II, pp. 308–9; ‘tourists’ methodology and quote in ‘Final Report on SI Operations’; SOE connection to DOWNEND in West, Secret War, p. 242. 81. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 131–2, and Sheet Number 1; SI Operations Status attached to ‘Organization of SI/ETO’; see also the Field Report of Air Dispatch Officer Maj. Jacques H.Beau, 20 September 1945, Folder 46a#l, Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 82. OSS Activities Report for March 1945, Folder 125, Box 94, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 83. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, p. 132, and Field Report of Stephen Vinciguerra, 23 June 1945, Folder 46b#4, Box 11a, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 84. Casey to Brooks and Greedy; see also 12th US AG Operational report for 18–24 March, dated 28 March 1945 regarding a 23 March meeting between Sibert and Maj.-Gen. Kenneth Strong, G-2 SHAEF with Col Colby, 12th Army Group OSS Detachment commander, Folder 12, Box 5, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; see also ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, Sheet Number 1. 85. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, p. 133, and Sheet Number 1; Roosevelt, II, pp. 309–11. 86. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 132–3. 87. Casey to Brooks and Greedy, and 12th Army Group OSS Detachment Weekly Report, 10 April 1945, Folder 12, Box 5, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, Sheet Number 1. 88. See The IORS/DID project on the Alpine Redoubt (January to May 1945)’, Folder ‘Redoubt Project’, Box 4, Entry 75, RG 226, NARA, and Rodney G.Minott, The Fortress that Never Was: The Myth of Hitler’s Bavarian Stronghold (New York: Holt, Rinehart, Winston, 1964); see also Petersen, (ed.), Doorstep, pp. 429–30, 447– 9, 450–1, 461–2, 472–3, 484–5, 492–3, 504–5, 513. 89. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 132–3 and Sheet Number 1; Roosevelt, II, pp. 310–11. 90. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, p. 131. 91. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’. 92. Minutes of Meeting of Field Detachment Commanding Officers, 12th AG, 23 February 1945, dated 28 February 1945, Folder 10, Box 4, Entry 99; see also G-2 ‘Study of Operations’ for the period 1 August 1944 to 9 May 1945, pp. 18, 36, Folder 83, Box 300, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 93. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’. 94. Ibid. 95. J/E contact statistics from ‘Individual Contacts’ invoice and ‘Comparative Figures’ attached to DIP Contact Office Final Report, 26 May 1945 (which also covers contact procedures), Folder 495, Box 49, Entry 110; W/T contact percentage from ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, Sheet Number 1; W/T relay procedure in two Casey memos to George Pratt, both dated 13 March 1945, Folder 1078, Box 276, Entry 190; see also

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96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101.

102. 103.

104. 105.

106.

107.

Report of Douglas W Alden, 20 August 1945, Folder 46a#l, Box 11, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 28–9, 134, and Sheet Number 1. ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, p. 29—see also p. 135. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’—see also Casey, Secret, pp. 211–13. ‘War Diary, OSS/London, Secret Intelligence Branch, Vol. 8, Reports Division’, pp. 358–9, Reel 5, Entry 91, RG 226, NARA. On ULTRA and land-lines, see Bennett, Ultra in the West, pp. 221, 247–8, who naturally focuses on the information still gleaned from SIGINT; for ULTRA and the general tactical picture after the Ardennes offensive, see Hinsley, III, (2), pp. 663–90, 711–46. G-2 ‘Study of Operations’ for the period 1 August 1944 to 9 May 1945, p. 52. On assessing the Redoubt, see Casey, Secret, pp. 205–8, Bennett, Ultra in the West, pp. 257–62, and Weigley, Lieutenants, pp. 700–3; cf. Persico, Piercing, pp. 333–5. ‘Final Report on SI Operations’. Overestimation of difficulties: ‘War Diary, SI, 12’, pp. 3–4; see also Col. V LadaMocarski to Donovan through Chief SI, 27 January 1945, Folder 46b#l, Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. Cf. Persico, Piercing, pp. 15–18, and Persico, Casey, pp. 64–8, 83; Casey admittedly downplayed his role to Persico; he certainly neglected to mention his geographic/functional integration proposals in his own memoirs. SI and MI6/ULTRA: Rositzke to Horton, 16 February 1945, Horton to Casey, 17 February 1945, and Horton to Gamble, 18 February 1945, Folder 1998, Box 117, Entry 148, RG 226, NARA—the material attached by Rositzke is clearly derived from ULTRA given its breadth, specificity, and general content; B.F.Smith, Shadow, p. 172, notes the general exclusion of OSS from signals intelligence.

7 Following the British Example: X-2 and Morale Operations

OSS/London’s X-2 and Morale Operations branches clearly demonstrated how the British connection to OSS defined two of the intelligence war’s subdisciplines. While the Americans deliberately tried to profit from British pathbreaking in counter-intelligence and political warfare, that very linkage basically foreordained the outcome of equivalent OSS efforts in Europe. These AngloAmerican connections in turn demonstrated the utility of empirical intelligence on the one hand, and the weakness of clandestine propaganda on the other, in support of military operations. It was indeed this relative utility to military operations which accordingly defined the relevance of these activities for OSS/ London. Counter-intelligence was one of Britain’s particular wartime triumphs despite the ad hoc system overseeing its execution. Involving all efforts to defend against enemy intelligence collection (and including counter-espionage, or CE, defending against enemy agents), British CI was split between the Security Service (MI5) and MI6’s Section V (‘five’). Whereas Anthony Eden oversaw MI6’s intelligence work as Foreign Secretary, MI5 answered to him in his personal capacity for security intelligence and investigations. There were six principal MI5 divisions for this work: A (administration and registry), C (security vetting of government employees), D (travel control/port and factory security), E (alien control), and F (domestic subversive activities by Communists, Fascists, and Pacifists). Counter-espionage involving the detection, interrogation, and controlling of foreign agents was B division’s preserve. The Security Service was deliberately confined to investigation and intelligence without police or executive authority as a constitutional safeguard. Its vague ministerial control further meant that no one individual or government office could master MI5.1 The agency responsible for CI work outside Britain itself was MI6’s Section V This element evolved from a Circulating Section (numbering three officers at home and two abroad) that gathered information on enemy intelligence services. It developed over time into an outright operating section tasked with receiving, evaluating, and disseminating information on rival intelligence services; with running overseas double agents for CE purposes; with maintaining liaison with its allied counterparts; with giving CE advice to the armies in the field; and with advising on the security of SIS operations. To execute these responsibilities, MI6

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(V) was organized into regional sections sub-divided by country desks. At its 1944 peak, MI6(V) numbered about 60 officers at home and another 60 abroad.2 The major operation involving this two-service set-up was the DOUBLE CROSS system. This was the most significant counter-espionage programme operated within Britain against the German Intelligence Service, or Abwehr. It involved countering German espionage through using controlled enemy agents, and originated in a 1936 approach to SIS by an electrical engineer working in Germany. The engineer, codenamed SNOW, agreed to serve as a British agent and deliver intelligence information, but the Abwehr subsequently recruited him to operate against the British. After SIS intercepted letters to his German controller, he was forced to continue operating as a straight German agent while misleading the Abwehr with the impression that he was running a string of subagents inside Britain, agents that were strictly notional. SNOW eventually lost contact with Germany in August 1939. Upon the outbreak of war, he was incarcerated by the British and made to re-establish contact with Germany using an Abwehr transmitter he had received in January 1939—but this time, under British direction. Once this transpired, it permitted MI6 to expose Germany’s espionage organization, codes, and ciphers, thereby allowing SIS to read other German messages and to master the entire German espionage system. These messages were intercepted by the Radio Security Service (RSS) and codenamed ISOS (Intelligence Service Oliver Strachey). Misleading information provided to Germany by SNOW concerning the forgery of British identity documents then allowed the Security Service to identify and capture a string of parachute agents who landed in England during summer 1940, including future double-agents SUMMER and TATE. Two businessmen with foreign contacts, TRICYCLE and DRAGONFLY, also began working for Britain in 1940 after the Abwehr attempted their recruitment. Thus by the end of 1940, Germany had made an effort to create a spy organization in Britain, while MI5 and MI6(V) had the luxury of bringing that organization under British control by turning the Abwehr’s network into a double-cross system. This active running and controlling of German espionage within Britain developed seven objectives, ‘the creed of double-cross’: controlling the enemy system, catching fresh spies, gaining knowledge of Abwehr personnel and tactics, gaining knowledge about the Abwehr’s codes and ciphers, obtaining evidence on German plans, influencing enemy plans through providing deceptive information, and masking Allied plans and intentions.3 The successive capture of German agents, and the choice they faced between summary execution and accepting British control, gave British counterintelligence an unparalleled advantage over Germany throughout the war, especially with ULTRA intelligence allowing Britain to monitor German reactions to the fake information and deception material supplied by DOUBLE CROSS agents. The mechanisms controlling the agents, however, reflected the major shortcoming of Britain’s intelligence system as a whole, outlined in Chapter 1. An agent captured beyond the three-mile limit automatically passed

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under MI6 control; another caught within that limit came under MI5’s direction. Within Britain, however, DOUBLE CROSS’S growing complexity initiated changes to the existing improvised coordination practices. The double-agents’ dissemination of false information was delegated to a W Board in September 1940. It consisted of the service intelligence chiefs, ‘C’, and the head of MI5’s B division (and later the head of the Home Defence Executive [HDE]), but this proved too high a level for the system’s day-to-day control. A W Board subcommittee was accordingly established in January 1941 known as the Twenty Committee (DOUBLE CROSS = XX=Twenty). Representatives were drawn from service intelligence, HDE, GHQ Home Forces, and MI6; MI5 provided the committee’s chair and secretary (a SHAEF staff officer was duly added in 1944). The Twenty Committee met 226 times between 2 January 1941 and 10 May 1945 to coordinate the content of, and manner in which, selected accurate facts and misinformation were passed to the enemy. Throughout this period, the committee enjoyed no charter or precise delineation of authority, with the assumption eventually accepted that MI5 and MI6 together would use the DOUBLE CROSS machine to perform the actual running of the double agents.4 Conflicts nevertheless arose concerning control of GARBO and TRICYCLE, and MI5 pressed for a more offensive use of DOUBLE CROSS throughout the second half of 1942. Other conflicts arose outside the Twenty Committee, notably after MI6 assumed responsibility for RSS in May 1941, and with it the control, analysis, and dissemination of ISOS. MI5 came to believe that SIS con trol over RSS, ISOS, and after December 1941, Enigma-based German espionage traffic (codenamed ISK) precluded sufficiently close working relations between MI5 and GCHQ, thus preventing MI5 from seeing all necessary information relative to Britain’s domestic security.5 MI5 subsequently conceded the importance of MI6(V)’s overseas counter-espionage in 1942, but it still felt that Section V lacked enough staff to deal with it. MI5’s recommendation that it absorb Section V was rejected that year, although MI6 (V)’s concurrent move to London helped facilitate closer liaison between the two.6 While MI5 and MI6 experienced minimal friction within the Twenty Committee during the rest of the war (doubtless because the stakes involved concentrated the minds of all concerned), espionage and CI nevertheless continued to deal with two sides of the same coin. This reality led to the conclusion that MI5 and MI6(V) should combine as far as possible, or at least agree to complete record-sharing.7 MI6(V) and MI5 duplicated much work since MI5 received all relevant information on enemy intelligence services operating against Britain, with each service’s records covering much of the same ground. Indeed, while they each maintained entirely separate registries, the services both maintained files on the same subjects, with largely the same information. In light of this duplication and the difficulties connected with distinguishing between the problems of domestic and external security intelligence, proposals were submitted in June 1944 regarding an MI5-MI6(V) combination with a single central security registry, but to no avail.8 British security intelligence thus

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manifested a familiar degree of fragmentation which undermined, through duplication and rivalry, an efficient, coordinated use of security intelligence throughout the war. ISOS control was obviously a contentious point once DOUBLE CROSS got on its feet. MI5 aggressively attempted to capitalize on its DOUBLE CROSS success at Broadway’s expense, but ISOS remained MI6(V)’s steadfast preserve, courtesy of ‘C’s’ position as GCHQ’s superior, and Broadway control of RSS.9 MI6(V)’s responsibility for ISOS/ISK, its distribution, and its access, would accordingly determine how OSS/London’s own counterintelligence branch evolved. The British Official History briefly states that a December 1942 agreement was concluded between SIS and OSS/London ‘for full cooperation on counterespionage between Section V and…X-2 [branch], in London and at overseas stations. Representatives of X-2 joined Section V in March 1943 and a mutually profitable liaison developed.’10 There was actually more to X-2’s creation than this passage indicates. Broadway recognized the lack of an American CI service in the course of its liaison with OSS, and through BSC, it proposed in August 1942 that OSS establish a counter-espionage section that would cooperate closely with its British counterpart.11 Having revealed to OSS the existence of intercepts of German espionage traffic as early as 24 March 1942, Broadway now insisted that a single American entity be designated to receive ISOS/ISK exclusively, known also as Most Secret Sources (MSS).12 Section V’s control of RSS, and therefore of ISOS, obviously gave MI6 authority to control the links for sharing MSS, and thus responsibility for maintaining ‘direct liaison with allied counter espionage services’.13 Given its fundamental concern about securely handling ISOS/ISK, MI6(V)’s wish for an entirely new American CI arm exclusively receiving MSS was understandable. OSS/Washington accordingly sent George Bowden to London in December 1942 to bring about CI liaison with the British, while David Bruce and SI/London’s William Maddox followed up with their own discussions on laying the groundwork for formal liaison the following February.14 Maddox apparently believed that Washington would send a complete CI staff to London, but Bowden’s original plan envisaged this CI section as a division of SI.15 SI’s counterintelligence division was thus formally established on 1 March 1943 under James Murphy, and Captain John McDonough appointed its London liaison by the end of that month.16 Section V arranged for suitable accommodation at their Glenalmond facility in central Scotland for the permanent American CI staff scheduled to arrive, but a major complication arose concerning an attempt by US military intelligence to usurp the CI function from OSS. SIS, however, was not receptive to this, and told Bruce as much, although ‘C’ stressed that the arrival of permanent OSS CI personnel was a prerequisite to firming up the MI6(V)-OSS relationship in these matters. When OSS/London suggested assigning temporary staff with MI6(V) until the permanent CI staff arrived, the British rejected such an arrangement. They felt that it was waste of time to indoctrinate anyone unless they continued in CI indefinitely.17 As noted in Chapter 2, SIS stressed secure, permanent

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relationships, and the unspoken necessity to vet and indoctrinate the Americans on ISOS/ISK must also have been a factor. In any event, the status of OSS CI was soon resolved as James Murphy (a former legal colleague of William Donovan) arrived in April, closely followed by Dana Durand, Robert Blum, Hubert Will, and future X-2/London chief Norman Pearson.18 G-2/ETO settled for liaison with MI6(V), although G-2 Washington made a second assault on CI in August, at which point Bruce informed Donovan of how ‘C’ had ‘staved off another attempt by our friend Uncle George [Strong] to insinuate his people further into CE work’ (see Chapter 3, p. 77).19 It soon became apparent to OSS/London’s CI staff that because of concerns about ISOS/ISK security, MI6(V) was not yet prepared to transmit MSS material to Washington, while the OSS/London CI staff would require direct tutelage on how to handle the material. Combined with Broadway’s fears that SI/London might expose MSS sources through an insufficient appreciation for their sensitivity, these considerations led to the creation of a separate independent CI branch in London numbering 25 members effective 15 June 1943.20 Designated X-2, either in deference to DOUBLE CROSS or Section V’s alternative label of X-B, it was also decided to locate its operational headquarters in London rather than Washington.21 X-2’s transfer from Glenalmond was accomplished on 18 July, coinciding with MI6(V)’s own move to 14 Ryder Street, London. During January–February 1944, X-2 took over the adjacent building with a passage between them. Besides sharing its location with MI6(V), X-2 moreover adopted Section V’s exact geographical desk structure for efficient coordination (i.e., both units used the desk system whereby each desk was tasked with carding, collating and interpreting all CI material concerning a specific geographical area).22 X-2 was now clearly tied to MI6(V) owing to Broadway’s extensive liaison with OSS/London, its exclusive control of ISOS/ISK, and its control over sharing MSS. Whatever MI5’s leading role in DOUBLE CROSS, Section V linked outsiders with that operation’s product, including arranging Norman Pearson’s liaison with the Twenty Committee.23 MI6(V) had a combination of motives for such largess. Foremost was the fact that it was in Britain’s interest to ensure the security of OSS intelligence operations, particularly if any SI-SIS partnership was expected to develop. Counter-intelligence was necessary to nullify Abwehr operations while revealing information that could facilitate Allied espionage. It was also common sense that a US link be established for CI’s deception element since the entire deception scheme could be undermined without American awareness of its existence and goals, although it must be stressed that deception control was exercised by MI5 and MI6(V) in the Twenty Committee without X-2’s direct involvement in decision-making. MI6(V) in fact recognized that in CI, the Americans could contribute ‘only to the degree they had full access to British expertise and information; [a]nd the overriding British policy was to try to augment their own effectiveness with US personnel and equipment resources’ (as noted above, MI6(V) had only 60 personnel in London by 1944).24 Closer to

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home, Section V’s head, Major Felix Cowgill (pre-sumably sanctioned by ‘C’), wished ‘to minimize the London liaison between MI5 and the FBI. Cowgill sought to achieve this end by giving X-2 free access to Section V’s files, including MSS material’. By so ‘bolstering’ X-2, ‘Cowgill hoped to minimize encroachments by MI5 and the FBI. X-2 thus greatly benefited from Cowgill’s maneuver.’25 So while SIS admittedly took an ‘overwhelming’ security risk by revealing its CI life-blood and the accompanying insights into ULTRA, it did so for a mixture of motives. The fragmentation inherent in Britain’s clandestine services again contributed to the close relationship enjoyed between an OSS/London branch and a single designated British counter-part. SIS pragmatically fostered links with OSS/London, partly out of operational necessity, partly to secure its own position relative to its domestic rivals. Had it not done so, an independent OSS CI effort would have been as wishful as independent SO/SI work before OVERLORD.26 With Section V controlling intercept material about enemy espionage personnel and activities on OSS/London’s behalf, a mutually beneficial partnership was free to develop.27 X-2 was accordingly given the task of with vetting and approving all X-2 agents, clearing and directing all X-2 operational projects, and receiving and processing all field reports with reference to British reports. X-2 very frankly sought Section V’s direction in these endeavours. The Italian desk’s James Angleton was especially explicit and ‘completely frank in expressing his desire to learn from British example’, and naturally enough Section V’s Italian desk ‘was very responsive’ to Angleton, and ‘cooperated in every possible way’.28 Branch chief James Murphy also suggested to SI that X-2 adopt Section V’s method of controlling sub-agents and informers: as soon as any SIS officer engaged a sub-agent or sub-source, he immediately forwarded a complete statement to headquarters. This information was then checked through MI6(V), or sometimes with MI5. Employment of enemy agents, sources, suspects and non-sympathizers was thus avoided. Once Home Office approval was secured, sub-sources would be assigned and a proper evaluation given to any reports. The British also maintained a ‘report card’ on each agent, sub-agent, or source detailing report dates, their distribution, and their evaluation. SIS found this system secure, believing that it provided central control and excellent protection for the organization. It generally protected SIS from external penetration, although it did not stop penetration originating within MI6(V) given Kim Philby’s success on Russia’s behalf.29 When SI finally launched SUSSEX, these procedures were formalized within OSS/London on 1 May 1944.30 X-2 also learned about Germany’s continental intelligence channels. In planning its post-invasion intelligence network, OSS/London wanted to exploit these channels once they came into Allied hands. The most promising ones involved banking, insurance, and industry. X-2 had an insurance unit investigate Germany’s development and usage of an espionage network based on insurance organizations under the control of German reinsurance firms. X-2 and Section V

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also compiled personality data on Europeans who were ‘bad actors’, although there were ‘occasions where one of these files pronounced an individual “violently anti-Nazi” and the other declared the same person to be a German spy’.31 The major application of X-2 resources, however, involved planning and preparation for CI support of the field armies after the Normandy invasion. The concept of security and counter-intelligence detachments (‘Ib units’) was first developed for the 1942 TORCH landings in North Africa. The Special Intelligence (b) Units were to communicate ISOS material to the Ib (i.e., security) staffs of Allied Forces Headquarters and the British 1st Army. Since they operated overseas, they were Section V’s responsibility, with no MI5 participation. As events unfolded, neither Tunisian or Sicilian operations gave much scope for these units to test their effectiveness since there were no German ‘stay-behind’ networks. When the American COSSAC contingent proved unfamiliar with this work, MI5 insinuated itself into the formulation of a February 1944 SHAEF directive on CI. This directive specified the duties of the redesignated Special Counter-intelligence Units (SCIUs, or SCI Units) as performing CI work against German intelligence networks or personnel encountered in the field during OVERLORD.32 X-2 was particularly keen to seize this opportunity ‘to bring American CE service in combat zones up to par with that of both [its] allies and enemy’, and in fact submitted its own SCIU plan to SHAEF in November 1943.33 OSS/London envisaged SCIU duties as involving interrogating resistance leaders and JEDBURGH members for information relevant to CI; for vetting alleged resistance leaders as they were picked up by the armies; for vetting all OSS agents going into the field (Section V did precisely this for Broadway’s BRISSEX agents); and for checking the names of agents picked up against their CI field files or ‘by W/T against SHAEF files in London’.34 X-2 SCIUs were thus attached to the headquarters of the 1st and 3rd US Armies. X-2/MI6(V) relations ‘were as usual highly satisfactory’ in the SCIU realm through the attachment of X-2 officers to the British-Canadian 21st Army Group for liaison, while SHAEF’s own SCIU (tasked with helping implement cover and deception plans, and with coordinating such activities at the Army Group level through the SCIUs attached to those AGs) consisted of 15 officers and 20 other ranks drawn from MI6 and OSS/London.35 Section V and X-2 facilitated these units’ activities by agreeing to ‘pass information [especially that based on MSS] relating to hostile secret intelligence services direct to SCI Units attached to the Army Groups in the field through their own special communications’ (it was strict policy that ‘Special Source material [could] never travel in clear text outside the UK. It [was] for this reason that London…never produced summaries of [such material] for the field.’ Camouflaged MSS information could be transmitted, but the ‘Abwehr Index’ itself—the compendium of information on the German espionage system—could not be summarized since ‘practically all the material included in [it was] …based on Special Sources…[and] distribution

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of Special Source material [could] be done only by British telegram’).36 This material revealed by June 1944 the general locations, names and cover-names of over 100 stay-behind agents, now controlled by the SS RSHA after it absorbed the Abwehr (German intelligence was henceforth referred to by the Allies as the German Intelligence Service, or GIS).37 David Bruce thus inflated X-2’s contribution somewhat when he informed SHAEF G-2 that ‘OSS alone [had] produced the names and other pertinent information on over 35,000 individuals, over 6,000 of whom are known or suspect enemy agents, members of enemy espionage organizations or active enemy sympathizers.’38 In the course of OVERLORD, ‘about a dozen’ of these GIS agents and linecrossers, almost all French, were sent to England for interrogation during June and July, with a further 20 processed in August. As the armies advanced into the Low Countries, the speed of operations stretched the SCIUs’ ability to identify enemy operators, particularly given the need to investigate the large number of arrested collaborators. ISOS still managed to reveal in September that about 20 stay-behind agents were operating in western France, and most were rounded up in October. ISOS was temporarily lost between October and mid-December as GIS changed its ciphers, but defectors and captured collaborators made up the difference until a double-agent helped decrypt the new key (the capture of X-2’s ISOS-indoctrinated Major Maxwell Paupurt on 26 September by the Germans evidently did not figure in this cipher change).39 SHAEF thus concluded in April 1945 that GIS spies and saboteurs ‘had little success’.40 One X-2 SCI commander further believed that X-2’s ‘intimate knowledge of the structure of the German Intelligence Services and its [sic] method of operations…proved to be of the greatest value on innumerable occasions’. Army level G-2s ‘repeatedly’ expressed their high regard for the SCI function.41 Another SCI officer reported that while much work was of purely local interest, it ‘contributed to the overall job of nullifying the effect of the enemy intelligence services… The work covered enemy saboteurs, wireless operators, intelligence agents, their paymasters, couriers and informers’, whether they were line-crossers, parachutists, or stay-behind agents.42 It must nevertheless be noted that as France was liberated, X-2 SCIUs ended up attached to the ‘Communications Zone’ (i.e., the chain of command covering the rear areas behind Allied lines), whereas MI6 (V) functioned directly under SHAEF British SCIUs in the 21st AG had more field and ordinary case work than desired, but they were all subsequently concentrated in Brussels along with a unit of MI5-trained officers for handling ‘Special Agent cases’.43 These cases involved double-agents in the field in support of deception overseen by a 212 Committee at SHAEF (212 represented the 21st and 12th AGs), although this activity was largely pre-empted by the speedy Allied advance.44 By the beginning of 1945, X-2/SCI operations were nevertheless largely based on interrogation reports concerning captured GIS personnel in the Low Countries, with X-2 maintaining a liaison officer with the British SCIU in Brussels. This individual enjoyed the distinction of being the only such officer permitted to see all of the counter-espionage material that originated from that

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area, presumably including that derived from ISOS.45 By March, X-2 successfully used captured German agents to attempt penetration of GIS. ‘It appeared that the enemy’s clandestine services had been somewhat surprised by the rapidity of the Allied advance, and their efforts seemed to be shifted from short-range to long-term tasks,’ presumably of a partisan nature in anticipation of Germany’s defeat (see Chapter 8, pp. 221–3).46 A significant adjunct to this field work was embodied by the development of a CI ‘War Room’. This evolved out of a joint MI6(V)/X-2 section for handling counter-intelligence information stemming from military operations, which was then passed through the SCIUs onto a French Desk situated in London. The subsequent French War Room was thus the original French Desk geared to exploiting intelligence opportunities that originated in areas behind the Allied armies, and to serving other intelligence agencies through the SCIUs. This War Room prepared cards on all known GIS personnel, and made them available to other field agencies through discreet distribution by SIS or X-2 officers. It also prepared lists of known stay-behind ‘W/T agents’, handled information services for the field, and vetted OSS agents. A small, and relatively inexperienced, X-2 War Room complement of about ten officers with no secretary received an intensive indoctrination between July and November, but they believed that they learned quickly. The British representatives usually numbered about 12 case officers, each aided by a secretary. A trio of brilliant, ‘highly intelligent, well trained, experienced’ officers was at the core of the British War Room contingent, while the remaining MI6 officers and secretaries profited from having been at their tasks long enough to provide efficient assistance. The X-2 component, in contrast, endured disruption when many of them were illadvisedly transferred to the independent CI set-up in OSS/Paris; British officers in Paris conversely remained under MI6(V)’s London direction. The Americans’ SIS colleagues were nevertheless patient and helpful, and X-2’s people managed to hold their own over time. They ‘made no major mistakes—when [they] might in the course of any one of those days have made many—and [they] earned the respect and the solid friendship of [their] colleagues by [their] work’.47 It was still believed by British officers, however, that the War Room’s main failure concerned the advice and direction given to personnel in the field, thanks in part to the schism between X-2/Paris and X-2/London when compared to Section V’s consistent control over British contingents. London was the ‘Head Office’ for British CI operations, and it kept firm control over its field units. X-2 personnel, on the other hand, were inclined to act and then tell X-2/London afterwards. The relative experience levels also played a role, since the British system was based on the ‘mass of detailed [MSS] intelligence that could not be made available to officers in the field’ as exploited by a pool of MI6, and especially MI5, intelligence officers possessing considerable field intelligence experience. In contrast, experienced X-2 officers were shipped off to Paris, and their novice replacements’ advice was often ignored by Americans in the field.

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Having said that, the War Room system’s relative effectiveness increasingly reflected the ubiquitous problem of British fragmentation: It is known in Washington, of course, that the criticisms of the French War Room are, in no small part, the result of the long ‘feud’ between MI5 and MI6. The French War Room was organized under the auspices of MI6— which is…custodian of Circle information [ISOS]. On the other hand, the MI5 Registry is the richest and most useful in England and very many of the MI6 officers…[were] trained by MI5. It is true that much of the advisory material sent to the field [was]… prepared by MI5, as are all the 020 Reports [London agent interrogations were conducted at Camp 020]. MI5…therefore [began] moving to take a greater share in the German operations, because they believe that since they [had] been contributing so heavily in what [was]…done, they ought to have a proper share of representation and control in the New War Room [see below]. It was thus clear by the end of 1944 that strong as X-2’s loyalties were to MI6 (V), X-2 would ‘doubtless find an adjustment to new relations between something like a joint MI5-MI6 [cooperative]—in the German War Room—not only possible but advantageous’. This was particularly attractive since MI5’s war record was ‘brilliant’, since some X-2 men had trained under MI5, and because MI5 had thus ‘liked [X-2’s] people’, although this may have owed more to Section V’s eroding influence over X-2 than to the ‘great generosity and honesty of dealing’ attributed to them by the OSS men.48 This all points to some intriguing issues concerning the evolution of the CI War Room concept, but the British Official History merely notes that by June 1944, ‘a joint SIS/OSS War Room’ had been established ‘to service the SCIUs’ with MI5 and French security representation, and that ‘[i]n light of experience in the summer and autumn of 1944, changes in arrangements for providing expert back-up for the counter-intelligence organisation in the field were discussed in November’ with specific reference to the need for more staff, and the fact that the SCIUs had spent more time distributing ISOS than running double-agents.49 More detail can be gleaned from the OSS records, though. OSS/London indicated to OSS/Washington in September that X-2/London and MI6(V) were ‘engaging in a cooperative German desk operating under an arrangement similar to that established for operations concerning France and the Lowlands’.50 The French War Room in a sense served ‘as a laboratory for those planning the German War Room’.51 SHAEF, however, soon expressed its wish to supersede the French/Lowlands and German War Rooms with a CI War Room ‘enlarged in scope and supported by the special registry and staff of MI5’s B Division… entirely under SHAEF’s control’, and including French security representatives. This new entity could then circulate its intelligence directly to the CI field staffs rather than through the SCIUs.

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The Official History notes that when ‘C’ opposed SHAEF taking over control of the War Room from the CI services for reasons of ISOS security, ‘on this point SHAEF had its way’.52 The matter is worth detailing since it again underscores SHAEF’s primacy in Allied intelligence planning. The issue was discussed in a letter from the SHAEF G-2, Major-General K.W.D.Strong, to Stewart Menzies. After noting ‘C’s’ choice of War Room Director, MI5’s Lieutenant-Colonel T.A. Robertson, Strong went on to address those outstanding points where you say decisions have still been reserved. The first of these is the question of control. I still feel that my original proposition that [SHAEF] should be given the direction of an organization which, whatever else it may be, is primarily of interest to the Armies in the field, is the right one. I gather from your letter and from what [Colonel Dick] White has told me of conversations he has had with you that, despite a feeling on your side that this may not be the most convenient way to settle the matter, you are prepared to agree if we here feel sufficiently strongly on the point. To this I feel I must answer that we do feel that the point is an important one and as you have left the matter in my hands, I propose with [Director General of MI5] Sir David Petrie’s agreement to take over Lt. Col. Robertson on to [SHAEF] strength and to charge him with the direction of the War Room. I shall also take up with OSS the question of Mr [Robert] Blum’s position as Deputy Director, which I think should also belong to [SHAEF], thus giving expression to the concept of full Anglo-American integration which, as you know, is the basis of this Headquarters… I note from Mr James Murphy’s letter…that nothing I have said above is at variance with the point of view taken by OSS… I should like to give you one final word of assurance that, in maintaining my proposition that the Director of the War Room should be responsible to [SHAEF], I naturally make no claim to invade any prerogatives of the heads of the Special Agencies over their own personnel, sources of intelligence or special intelligence facilities. I feel sure the smooth running of the organization can be achieved if the procedure outlined in para 2 of Mr Murphy’s letter is adhered to, for I have no doubt from White’s account of his meetings in London that the requisite good will exists on all sides. I should be grateful if you could show this letter to Mr James Murphy and Sir David Petrie.53 Murphy’s suggested procedure was discussed on 15 and 27 January with MI6’s Dick White, Robertson, and other security representatives. The War Room would have an Administrative Section for communications, personnel, transportation, reproducing documents and SHAEF personality cards, and processing papers (designated Section A under MI5’s John Marriett). Section B would handle receiving, distributing, and reproducing reports, while about thirty staff members would be assigned to a Case Section that would handle tracing captured persons,

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preparing questionnaires, and addressing field requests about cases (later termed the Assessment Section’, or Section C, under MI5’s Roland Bird, with X-2’s Joe Roland as Deputy). This section would also handle double- agent matters, with Robertson insisting ‘that he, or someone designated by him and [X-2’s Robert] Blum, should definitely know [the] identities and details of all Double Agents… for the protection of [the] Double Agent and Col. Robertson himself. A Documents Section would immediately process captured records, and make précis of them before routing them to their proper destinations (Section E under X-2’s Sam Bossard), while a Research Section (later ‘Publications’, or Section G) would prepare studies on GIS and other topics. Colonel Robertson warned that with respect to a head for this section, ‘“C” would offer him Hugh Trevor-Roper… who is not “easy to get along with”’; X-2’s Reginald Phelps was proposed as Trevor-Roper’s luckless assistant. A Registry Section (Section F under a certain Horrocks of MI5) was patterned after the existing MI5, MI6, and X-2 Registries; this section would also maintain a SHAEF personality card sub-section on suspected Nazis. An obviously critical component of the War Room was Section D (under MI6[V]’s Colin Roberts, with X-2’s Grace Dolowitz) responsible for handling Abwehr and SD signal traffic for the field, codenamed PAIR in this instance.54 Robertson and MI6(V)’s new head, Lieutenant-Colonel Milne, met with a G-2 SIGINT representative in January 1945 to satisfy G-2 that no further ULTRA representative would be required in the War Room. It was agreed, however, to introduce a new method of CI ULTRA dissemination to the field. Throughout the war, a Section V representative at GCHQ had scanned operational ULTRA signals for items of CI relevance, known as DEGS. One member from each Section V geographic desk received these, after which ‘they were filed in a special card file (not available to the OSS personnel working in the building)…. No one from Section V was permitted to take any action on these DEGS without previously referring it to… Menzies’. By January 1945, this was deemed inadequate for continental CI, so Robertson and Major Mason, head of Section V’s German Desk, proposed creating a special ULTRA room next to the German Desk at Ryder Street, which finally became operational ‘about 1 April’. After the daily GCHQ intake was received, Colin Roberts of the SHAEF CI War Room’s PAIR section examined the material that had been ‘DEGGED’, and decided what material should be communicated to the field as PAIR messages. Trevor-Roper of the Research Section also examined this material for his GIS reports.55 Throughout these developments, X-2 felt that ‘Section V appeared cooperative’, and the physical presence of a PAIR section in the War Room was ‘considered a signal victory’.56 The War Room accordingly began operating on 28 February with 175 officers and civilians.57 Though providing only 20 personnel, X-2 had secured the Deputy Directorship, and it was also noted during the planning stage ‘that MI5 seemed to be getting their people into the key slots’; but when the issue of providing qualified personnel for these positions came up, ‘it was agreed that Section V was not prepared to release them’ for service in the

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War Room.58 MI6(V) was thus being eclipsed, in keeping with the expectations expressed above based on the French War Room. This coincided with the April revelation through IS OS that GIS was abandoning any serious attempt at establishing a stay-behind network in western Germany.59 The special ULTRA room used for PAIR also existed ‘little more than a month before the operational Ultra began to dry up’, although it was deemed a superior system for screening GCHQ material for CI information.60 As Germany’s collapse continued, the War Room became involved in using MI5 and MI6(V) files for processing known GIS personnel from those captured or automatically arrested.61 By the end of April, X-2 emphasized the need for OSS SCIUs to expedite transferring prisoners to London for interrogation by SHAEF’s CI War Room, for OSS/ London to provide aircraft for that task, and for transporting relevant captured enemy documents.62 Such efforts would ensure that X-2 fully met its War Room and SCI commitments. These commitments were soon matters of concern given that the first month after the collapse of GIS ‘produced, on the one hand, a vastly accelerated program of activity in the War Room, and on the other, a period of confusion and redirection in the field’. In fact, ‘the extent of the collapse [was]… almost more than the relatively small CI staffs [could] cope with’ (the 12th AG OSS Detachment contributed to this work-load by sending ‘two German doctors to Paris for interrogation… They claimed to be death ray experts’).63 In light of this range of activity, it is evident that X-2/London enjoyed a strong presence in Allied CI, from ISOS indoctrination, to the SCIUs, to the War Rooms, and that this success was largely due to the branch’s utility with respect to British CI plans. The British need to maintain a specialized ISOS connection with the Americans was the fundamental raison d’ être for X-2, and its initial close relationship with Section V further emphasized that fact within the context of MI5-MI6 counter-intelligence fragmentation. This reality also enabled OSS/ London to withstand the attempt by US military intelligence to obtain the CI role, and this in turn gave X-2 obvious scope in both the SCIUs and the War Room concept. The X-2/London War Diary explicitly states that X-2’s role in SHAEF planning, and its position as the official US CI agency in Europe, ‘could not have been achieved without the resources and backing of MI6’.64 In the final months of war, X-2 was able to profit from its ISOS link, and to secure the Deputy Directorship of the SHAEF War Room despite Section V’s waning, and MI5’s influx into SHAEF CI. While such developments testified to X-2’s competence and usefulness, it also reflected the significance of Anglo-American functional integration to the relative cohesion of OSS. The ISOS/ISK connection was X-2/ London’s birthright, but it required the branch to work hand-inglove with its British opposites at the expense of close ties with the other OSS branches. The sensitivity of this crucial source could not permit any other alternative. X-2 was therefore inevitably more a part of an essentially British-dominated Allied CI system than it was a part of any independent American intelligence system, and many within OSS/London resented this fact. One OSS/London reports officer felt that during his tenure with the mission, ‘the operations of X-2 remained a

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mystery to me as well as to a great many other people in the organization’. He mentioned this because he believed that ‘X-2 could have assisted in many ways if the Branch had been more closely integrated with the rest of the mission.65 Walter Lord of OSS/London’s Secretariat argued that ‘X-2 played a role which combined the more exasperating aspects of a prima donna and a pampered child… X-2 lived a life of its own’. While Lord appreciated ‘the excellent job X-2/ETO did’, and conceded ‘the need for extra security precautions on certain aspects of X-2 work’, he believed that ‘this need was often abused and made a convenient vehicle for getting away with all sorts of favors. Aloof and apart from the rest of the organization, X-2 went its own mysterious way.’ In Lord’s opinion, this eroded morale in the other branches given X-2’s perceived lack of cooperation in sharing with SI/London any positive intelligence obtained from its counter-espionage sources; its lack of cooperation with R&A in developing ‘the latter’s biographical file on European personalities’; and its non-cooperation with SO to formulate a joint counter-sabotage unit.66 All of these criticisms made sense for people unfamiliar with the role of ISOS/ISK in supporting the field armies and SHAEF, or for those unaware of MI6(V)’s understandable fetish for ISOS security. Such considerations ruled out the kind of overt sharing of CI information which might have rapidly compromised the source. The dilemma was encapsulated by Osgood Nichols of the Morale Operations branch: X-2 generated the suspicion that the smoke-screen of security under which its plans, operations, communications and personnel were protected from the rest of the organization hid many potentialities for working constructively with the other branches. As long as X-2 [was] allowed to be the exception to so many rules, it [was]…dif ficult to persuade the other branches to shed their own sovereignty in favour of better teamwork.67 As detailed in earlier chapters, branch primacy and functional integration with the British in fact nullified the centralization supposedly inherent to the OSS concept. In X-2’s case, it would seem to have been a sine qua non of its duties, and the reality of OSS/London’s need to define itself in relation to the realities of British intelligence ensured that X-2 would achieve successes it could not have imagined on its own while distancing itself from the rest of the London mission. OSS/London’s Morale Operations branch mirrored this reliance on a British opposite number in the arena of political warfare, but with much less to show for it. MO/London’s development was particularly defined by Britain’s Political Warfare Executive, formed in September 1941. Most, but not all, responsibility for foreign propaganda was at that time removed from SOE and set up under Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart’s Director-Generalship. SOE nevertheless continued fighting for a propaganda role as part of its subversion efforts. PWE policy was determined by the Foreign Office under the auspices of the Political Intelligence Division (see Chapter 4), while the coordination and execution of such policy was overseen by the Ministry of Information. PWE received intelligence from

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SIS, service intelligence, and public sources to formulate and distribute overt (‘White’) and clandestine (‘Black’) propaganda. PWE also prepared under the JIC’s general direction political and social studies for the secret and military services. ‘Whereas the Ministry of Information [aimed] to tell the truth, PWE [was] frankly an agency of propaganda’, be it White, and thus clearly of Allied origin, or Black, purporting to originate within enemy territory. PWE chiefly used open radio, Black radio (passed off as transmitting in occupied France, for example), air-dropped leaflets, leaflets brought behind enemy lines, and false rumours deliberately planted. Agents trained by SOE were used for propaganda dissemination.68 William Donovan was long a keen enthusiast of psychological warfare, believing in the efficacy of ‘fifth column’ techniques for defeating Germany.69 PWE activities were thus investigated by COI’s London nucleus in 1941. A 12 November 1941 report by E.L.Taylor waxed optimistic about the possibilities for COI joining with the British in political warfare, especially through providing intelligence on foreign radio broadcasting, morale, and political psychology (this was because PWE placed great emphasis on acquiring all intelligence necessary for operations).70 As noted in Chapter 4, R&A made overtures to PWE concerning information exchanges, but refrained from actual propaganda work. This potential linkage was nullified, however, when COI was split into OSS and OWI in June 1942. The latter organization was made responsible for White propaganda, while OSS kept authority for Black work. PWE was then faced with deciding with which unit it should establish its main working relationship since the British service did both White and Black; it eventually decided on OWI as its main link with US propaganda in July 1942 (see Chapter 4, p. 106).71 PWE soon followed this up by wrestling total control of propaganda directed at enemy-occupied countries from SOE, although the latter maintained a joint school with PWE for training propaganda agents.72 R&A sought to re-establish ties with PWE in February 1943 by coordinating their work on Military Government Handbooks, political reporting, and psychological warfare information. It soon became evident to OSS, however, that a distinct branch of OSS/London would have to be formed for propaganda liaison with PWE and SOE.73 Morale Operations/London was thus established in June 1943, with Rae Smith appointed branch head and initial lone member. David Bruce could not help noticing that ‘a one man branch [was] not a source of prestige’ for OSS/London, but reinforcements arrived in due course.74 For its part, PWE was reluctant to enter into any direct partnership for fear that their position would be weakened if MO produced more personnel to challenge PWE’s propaganda operations. MO was still able to secure PWE’s agreement in July 1943 for MO work on ‘rumours’ planning since PWE hoped to compensate for its lack of manpower through the arrival of more MO staff. MO was for its part trying to secure representation on any joint effort while foregoing independent operations in preparation for future eventualities.75

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By December 1943, MO found itself having to choose between consolidating with other similar agencies such as PWE and OWI under COSSAC’s proposed Psychological Warfare Division (PWD), and trying to operate on its own without Army support. Since OSS could hardly afford to alienate the US military, the decision was self-evident. David Bruce concluded ‘that it would be better policy for MO to become integrated with the other agencies [PWE, OWI] in the army design’, now that PWD responsibilities were divided among specific sections, including planning, intelligence, leaflets, press, news, and publications.76 PWD nonetheless suffered from a late start and from insufficient trained personnel. MO moreover ‘lost its identity as an OSS branch’ when it was ‘fully integrated’ with what became SHAEF’s psychological and political warfare set-up. Matters were so muddled, however, that neither OSS/London’s separate branches, nor SHAEF’s PWD, realized MO’s potential contributions.77 MO effected no headway with SO for joint Black propaganda work, particularly since SO did not know, and did not care to know, anything about such work given its JEDBURGH activities. This prevented MO/London from duplicating the SOE-PWE set-up whereby PWE’s propaganda-disseminating agents were controlled by SOE in the field, and thus ruled out MO joining in such work. MO was so desperate immediately after the OVERLORD landings that it seized on the chance to report news and gossip from within Europe for use in Black radio broadcasts, publications, and leaflets.78 What this really meant was that MO/London was essentially irrelevant to the Normandy landings. There was some prospect for change on 13 July 1944 when SHAEF gave MO an explicit operational directive authorizing the Americans to exploit allegedly poor German morale by disseminating propaganda about the ‘rot’ setting in at home, the break-down of controls within Germany, and how the individual German soldier could help things along by surrendering or ‘working to rule’ at the front.79 While MO was willing to launch immediately into producing leaflets and assorted publications, it was stymied by paper and equipment shortages. MO then became reliant on help from PWE, PID, and OWI.80 By January 1945, the only significant result of such pathetic efforts was the New York Herald Tribune and Reader’s Digest publication as fact of accounts based on an MO Black leaflet. This faked document purported to be a German High Command directive to the German officer corps to ‘protect itself at all cost’ when the Nazis went underground after the war. This ‘coup’ was seen as a great success by MO/London.81 By February, MO was making some of its resources available for the espionage penetration of Germany (see Chapter 6), but by March, it was Lester Armour’s considered opinion that ‘MO field operations… [were] really, in layman’s language, just a lot of “bunk”’. MO could lend its people to PWD and print Black propaganda leaflets, but in Armour’s view, OSS/ London should not ‘waste much time over them’.82 Armour was not alone. When an inquiry into the effect of British political warfare against Germany was suggested after the war, the JIC’s Chairman, Victor Cavendish-Bentinck, said

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that he was ‘rather doubtful as to whether it had shortened the (recent) war by one hour’.83 MO’s largely non-existent contribution to the war thus reflected the poor results of political warfare. Like political warfare in general, MO’s reports were ‘always concerned with what was going to happen and not always had much bearing on what had been [actually] accomplished’.84 The British particularly held too much faith in propaganda, especially in its efficacy against Nazi Germany.85 It was moreover inconsistent with the overriding primacy of ‘unconditional surrender’.86 Potential German rebels were concerned with Germany’s post-war survival as a nation, whereas unconditional surrender implied the overthrow of ‘Nazis and militarists’; unfortunately, only the militarists could overthrow the Nazis inside Germany.87 This was not likely to happen when the attitude of German soldiers in Normandy was one of ‘Let’s enjoy the war because the peace will be terrible.’88 Germany’s two-front war in fact gave Nazi leaders a simple slogan for the military: Sieg oder Siberia, Victory or Siberia. Leaflets and radio broadcasts were not going to counter this stark set of options. All political warfare could reasonably accomplish was to harp on a simple set of coherent themes along the lines that Germany was outnumbered and outgunned, its defeat was inevitable, and the best thing for Germany was to end the war as soon as possible, preferably by removing the Nazis. Despite the reliance on Black work in Allied political warfare strategy, this was essentially a task for White propaganda. MO/London’s inherent shortcomings exacerbated these obstacles. MO was undeniably frustrated by the fact that it ‘was held back literally for months through the inability of PWD and various other military agencies to determine exactly what it was to be permitted to do’, but a major problem concerned how its leadership followed British methods and experience.89 Rae Smith was deemed by one MO/London member as unaggressive and too deferential to British precedent in political warfare, with MO accordingly ‘playing second and third fiddle to the British’; it was even allegedly said in response to proposals within MO: ‘We have done it this way for four years, why should we change now?’90 Equally significant were the observations of Walter Lord: No branch made greater use of expensive, specialized personnel and facilities than MO, and I believe for the amount put into it the results achieved [during 1944–1945]…were not justified. There is, furthermore, as far as I know, no real indication that the few black radio and newspaper projects which were developed ever had any noticeable effect on the German people. Yet MO used not only money but monopolized various expert German-speaking personnel who were desperately needed when SI was putting on its great German penetration drive early in 1945… The contribution that this [sic] personnel would…have made if assigned to the development of secret intelligence plans and projects would have outweighed by far their usefulness in conjuring up subtle radio programs

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which few Germans listened to and caused no appreciable effect even when heard.91 MO/London thus attempted to parrot British methods and policies which were themselves doomed to failure, and MO was thereby prevented from making a distinct contribution to the rest of OSS/London. As indicated elsewhere, this went with the territory. The British intelligence system’s entrenched fragmentation nullified OSS’s potential for centralization, and individual branches were essentially left to make their own way within this defining context. When attempted by X-2, it could result in success; when tried by MO, it largely came to naught. Joint work with the British either created a strong potential for continued branch work by war’s end, or else it underscored the futility of carrying on. In either case, the relative significance of the clandestine activity in question was the determining factor. This reality would prove significant in OSS/London’s post-hostilities work. Independent OSS intelligence and CI operations in Germany seemed to be the pending focal point of American intelligence in Europe, but events well outside that theatre soon made their presence felt for OSS/London and its successor. NOTES 1. Jackson report on the ‘British Intelligence System’, Donovan Papers, USAMHI, pp. 41, 43, 47–8; see also Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 8–10, 29–64, 68–70, 178; note that the functions of E and F divisions originally resided within B division at war’s outbreak, but were then removed and assigned to the two new divisions in April 1941; the British tended to use the term counter-espionage to mean all CI duties, but the distinction above is used here—on this difference between CI and CE see Winks, Cloak, p. 422. 2. Quotes from Jackson, ‘British Intelligence System’, pp. 30–2; see also Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 8–10, 180 (for staff numbers); see Chapter 4 above on SIS Circulating Sections. 3. Narrative from J.C.Masterman, The Double Cross System in the War of 1939 to 1945 (London: Sphere, 1973), pp. 3, 36–42, 49–58; see Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 87–130, 217–44, and Appendices 1, 3, 6, 9, 11; on German intelligence, see also David Kahn, Hitler’s Spies: German Military Intelligence in World War II (New York: Macmillan, 1978), pp. 236, 525–8, 534–6; on deception, Masterman, Double Cross, pp. 104–11, 130–1, 145–63; Michael Howard, British Intelligence in the Second World War, Vol. V: Strategic Deception (London: HMSO, 1990), pp. 3– 30, 45–52, 103–33, 167–200; Jock Haswell, The Tangled Web: The Art of Tactical and Strategic Deception (Wendover: John Goodchild, 1985); Ralph Bennett, ‘Fortitude, Ultra and the “Need to Know”’, Intelligence and National Security 4, 3 (July 1989), pp. 482–502, and Ralph Bennett, ‘A Footnote to Fortitude’, Intelligence and National Security 6, 1 (January 1991), pp. 240–1; cf. Charles Cruickshank, Deception in World War II (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981); David Mure, Master of Deception: Tangled Webs in London and the Middle East

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4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18.

19.

(London: Kimber, 1980), pp. 16, 198, 273; T.L.Cubbage II, ‘The German Misapprehensions Regarding Overlord: Understanding Failure in the Estimative Process’, Intelligence and National Security 2, 3 (July 1987), pp. 114–74; KlausJürgen Müller, ‘A German Perspective on Allied Deception Operations in the Second World War’, Intelligence and National Security 2, 3 (July 1987), pp. 301– 26; David Hunt, ‘Remarks on “A German Perspective on Allied Deception Operations’”, Intelligence and National Security 3, 1 (January 1988), pp. 190–4; Michael I.Handel, ‘Methodological Mischief: A Reply to Professor Müller’, Intelligence and National Security 4, 1 (January 1989), pp. 161–4; John Ferris, ‘The Intelligence-Deception Complex: An Anatomy’, Intelligence and National Security 4, 4 (October 1989), pp. 719–34; see also Winks, Cloak, pp. 289–97, on the publication of Masterman’s book. Masterman, Double Cross, pp. 60–6; Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 98–102, 217–44. MI5’s position is disputed by Robert Cecil, ‘Five of Six at War: Section V of MI6’, Intelligence and National Security 9, 2 (April 1994), p. 347. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 72–3 (on RSS), 113–14, 124–37 (on MI5-MI6 conflicts)—cf. with Masterman, Double Cross, pp. 60–6, who says there were no unresolved disputes concerning MI5 primacy over MI6(V) on the Twenty Committee; note also that Masterman was the MI5 Chairman of the Twenty Committee (Hinsley and Simkins, p. 98). Masterman, Double Cross, pp. 65–6; 189; cf, Cecil, ‘Five’, p. 347. ‘British Intelligence System’, pp. 32, 48–9; see also Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 175–8. See Cecil, ‘Five’, pp. 346–7; Cecil states (p. 347) that amalgamating MI5 and MI6 ‘in the middle of the war would have been the height of folly’. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, p. 187. August 1942 date, ‘Memorandum—Re X-2 Beginning’, n.d, n.a., Folder 14a, Box 74, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA; BSC proposal from manuscript excerpt, ‘London Station History, Chapter I, The OSS Prelude’, written by William L.Billick, in Folder 19, Box 2, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. Intercepts, Minutes of discussion in David Bruce’s office, 24 March 1942, Folder 1647, Box 152, Entry 136, RG 226, NARA; Most Secret Sources, Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’. Jackson, ‘British Intelligence System’, p. 31. Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’. Bruce to Donovan, 13 February 1943, frame 78, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’; see also Cecil, ‘Five’, pp. 350–1. Accommodation, Bruce to Donovan, 27 February 1943, frames 86–7; complication, ‘C’s’ view, and MI6(V) vs. temporary staff, Bruce to Donovan, 8 March 1943, frames 92–3; both in Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA; cf. John Costello, Mask of Treachery (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1988), pp. 422, 431. April 1943 arrival, Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’; resolved status of OSS CI, Bruce to Donovan, 12 March 1943, frames 95–6, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA; on Murphy, Bowden, McDonough, Pearson, Blum, Will, G-2 hostility, see also Winks, Cloak, pp. 260–3. G-2 liaison, Bruce to Donovan, 12 March 1943, frames 95–6; ‘staved’, Bruce to Donovan, 14 August 1943, frame 173; both in Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA.

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20. Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’; X-2 establishment in General Order Number 13, Revised, 19 June 1943, effective 15 June 1943, Folder 109, Box 15, Entry 119, RG 226, NARA; 25 members, Winks, Cloak, p. 264. 21. Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’; X-2 designation, Winks, Cloak, p. 263. 22. Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’; see also ‘War Diary, OSS/London, X-2 Branch, Vol. 1, Early History’, Chronological Summary, and pp. iv–v, frames 1149, 1154–5, Reel 10, Entry 91, RG 226, NARA—note that pp. vi–xliv and the remainder of Vol. 1 are closed, although certain details were inadvertently left by the weeders in the Chronological Summary and Index. 23. Winks, Cloak, pp. 280–5. 24. Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’; the ‘War Diary, OSS/London, X-2 Branch, Vol. 2, London Headquarters’, Reel 10, Entry 91, p. 20, notes that in pre-OVERLORD CI information processing, ‘the British obviously were able to furnish most of the information required. The thing that X-2 could furnish was the man and womanpower to do the necessary carding and filing’; see also Memorandum for Director OSS on Survey of Manpower Utilization—X-2 Branch, 31 March 1944, frames 0002–11, Reel 72, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 25. Billick MS ‘OSS Prelude’; see also ‘War Diary, X-2, 2’, Chronological Summary, and pp. 1–7, 20, 26, frames 1161–8, 1181, 1187—British motives are apparently discussed on p. viii of Vol. 1, but this is closed; see also British views on the need to ensure ‘central coordination’ of OSS CI through ‘SIS in London where OSS are represented’, in Air Ministry to Britman, Washington, COS (W) 852, 3 October 1943, Reference: JSM 1200, CAB 119/47, PRO; Winks, Cloak, pp. 287–9, notes Pearson’s closeness with Cowgill, Cowgill’s denial of ISOS to the FBI, and dismisses as ‘nonsense’ the idea that Cowgill stymied the FBI in order to minimize MI5 encroachments against himself personally, this dismissal is fair and understandable since Winks is referring to the claims of the traitor Kim Philby in this regard, but the quotes cited above from Billick MS, ‘OSS Prelude’, originate within OSS, not from Kim Philby, and they concern MI6 vs. MI5 as part of their ongoing rivalry, not Cowgill vs. MI5 out of personal self-interest; see also Winks, Cloak, p. 534, note 81, and Cecil, ‘Five’, pp. 351–2; cf. Desmond Bristow, with Bill Bristow, A Game of Moles: The Deceptions of an MI6 Officer (London: Little, Brown and Company, 1993), pp. 33–4. 26. ‘Overwhelming’, Roosevelt, II, p. 150; see also Winks, Cloak, p. 534, note 81, on the role of British self-interest. 27. For British control on X-2’s behalf, see Jackson ‘British Intelligence System’, p. 31. 28. X-2 duties/Angleton, ‘War Diary, X-2, 2’, pp. 4, 37, frames 1165, 1197—note that the Angleton reference is bracketed with the word ‘cut’ handwritten beside it; Angleton was the future CIA’s noted CI guru before his enforced retirement in 1974; see Winks, Cloak, pp. 372–435. 29. Murphy to Shepardson, 10 July 1943, Folder 24, Box 347, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA —see also ‘War Diary, X-2, 2’, pp. 10–11, frames 1171–2; see also Costello, Mask, p. 427. 30. Branch Order No. 10 by Acting Chief Hubert L.Will, 1 May 1944, Folder 50, Box 3, Entry 147, RG 226, NARA. 31. William Casey to Giblin and Armour, 29 January 1944; see also Minutes of the Staff Operational committee, 27 January 1944; both in Folder 357, Box 315, Entry

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32. 33.

34.

35.

36.

37. 38. 39. 40.

41.

42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48.

190—see also the work of R&A’s Biographical Records in 1944 regarding information on Europeans in general in Folder 449, Box 232, Entry 190; note that all references to X-2’s Insurance unit in Vol. 2 of the X-2 War Diary have been excised —see the index regarding pp. 41–7, 95–8, 133, and frames 1201, 1247, 1282; all in RG 226, NARA; see Winks, Cloak, pp. 266–8, on early training of X-2 men and the presumed receptivity of the British to Yale men and/or Rhodes Scholars, and pp. 322–438, on Angleton. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 261–3—see also pp. 349–72; see also ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, 1’, para. 47, Folder 144, Box 211, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. ‘Up to par’, ‘Notes on X-2’, n.d., n.a., Folder 14a, Box 74, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA; November SCI proposal, ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, 1’, paras 46, 77– 80. X-2 duties, William Casey to Armour, et al., 9 March 1944, Folder 325, Box 223; field and W/T vetting, Minutes of Staff Operational Committee, 24 February 1944; Folder 357, Box 315; both in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. OSS Activities Report, May 1944, Folder 115, Box 92, Entry 99; X-2/21st AG liaison proposed in Minutes of Staff Operational Committee, 9 March 1944, Folder 357, Box 315, Entry 190; X-2 at 21st AG, ‘War Diary, Director’s Office, 1’, paras 46, 77–80; all in RG 226, NARA; see ‘Special Counter-intelligence Units at HQ 21 Army Group, 21 April 1944, WO 208/2091, PRO. ‘Pass information’, SHAEF Intelligence Directive No. 7, Section XI, WO 219/179, PRO; ‘Special Sources/Abwehr Index’ in SAINT London to SAINT Paris, c. February 1945, Folder 408, Box 367; on the impact of ISOS security on X-2’s communications system, see Lowman to Armour, 15 February 1945, Folder 983, Box 268; both in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 263–4. Bruce to SCAEF via ACoS G-2, 26 May 1944, WO 219/5278, PRO. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 265–7; on Paupurt capture, see Winks, Cloak, pp. 278–9. SHAEF view in JIC SHAEF (45) 14 (Final), 12 April 1945, WO 219/182, PRO— see also JIC SHAEF (45) 5 (Final), 7 March 1945, frames 577–81, Reel 15; for information on SHAEFF’s JIC, see the ‘Revised Directive to Joint Intelligence Committee (SHAEF), Folder 1206, Box 282; both in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. Report on Activities by Maj. Walter Hochschild, 9 January 1945, Folder 46a#4, Box 11, Entry 99; see also Roger A. Piaff to Donovan, 31 July 1944, on X-2 SCIU activities in Normandy, frames 756–8, Reel 80, Entry 95; both in RG 226, NARA. Report of Maj. Thomas B. Lee, 10 May 1945, Folder 46b#l, Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. Field Report of John Waldron, 12 January 1945, Folder 46b#4, Box 11a, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; see also Bristow, Moles, pp. 169–70. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, p. 273; see also Masterman, Double Cross, p. 167. Lowlands interrogation/liaison, X-2 Progress Report for 1–15 January 1945, dated 15 January 1945, Folder 9, Box 4, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. OSS Activities Report for March 1945, Folder 125, Box 94, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. Quotes and narrative from Waldron Field Report; see also ‘War Diary, X-2, 2’, pp. 70–1, 108–17, frames 1224–5, 1257–66. Ibid.; on Camp 020, see Hinsley and Simkins, IV, Appendix 10.

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49. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, pp. 264, 267. 50. OSS Activities Report, September 1944, Folder 119, Box 93, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 51. Waldron Field Report. 52. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, p. 268. 53. Robertson in MI5 from X-2 Progress Report for 1–15 January 1945; text of letter, Maj.-Gen. K.W.D. Strong to Maj.-Gen. Sir Stewart Menzies, Room 900, War Office, 30 January 1945, Folder 170, Box 23, Entry 119; see also Lt Jerome W.Shay Returnee Report, 17 May 1945, passim, Folder 46b#3, Box 11 a, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA. 54. 15 January 1945 meeting referred to in Covering Report for OSS ETO, 1–15 January 1945, dated 18 January 1945, Folder 9, Box 4, Entry 99; 30 staff for Case Section, double-agent identities quote, Trevor-Roper, PAIR all in Minutes of Meeting of Saturday, 27 January, dated 29 January 1945, Folder 170, Box 23, Entry 119, RG 226, NARA; the assessment of Trevor-Roper reflects difficulties encountered when he defied injunctions concerning ISOS/ISK distribution, at which point Felix Cowgill had recommended Trevor-Roper’s dismissal—see Cecil, ‘Five’, p. 346; cf. how Trevor-Roper (now Lord Dacre) got his own back in Hugh Trevor-Roper, The Philby Affair: Espionage, Treason, and Secret Services (London: William Kimber, 1968), pp. ix, 39, 42, 47, 69–75; War Room section quotes in X-2 Progress Report for 15–31 January 1945, dated 31 January 1945, by Norman Holmes Pearson, Folder 9, Box 4, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; Section Heads/deputies and Section letters from outgoing cable 8394, HAWK to AGNOSTIC, 6 February 1945; see also Memorandum on 5 February 1945 Meeting, dated 6 February 1945; Memorandum on Meeting of 7 February 1945 (this also names many of the proposed Assessment Section case officers); see Memorandum on Meeting of 30 January 1945, dated 1 February 1945, on the War Room’s telecryption facilities; both in Folder 170, Box 23, Entry 119, RG 226, NARA. 55. ‘MIS, War Department, Liaison Activities in the UK, 1943–1945, I: History of Special Counter-intelligence War Room’, SRH-153, RG 457, NARA. 56. Minutes of 27 January 1945 meeting. 57. Personnel numbers from OSS Activities report for February 1945, Folder 124, Box 94; for numbers, February start, and overview of activities, see X-2 Progress Report for 15–28 February 1945, dated 28 February 1945, Folder 10, Box 4; both in Entry 99; see also SHAEF G-2 Memo on ‘Central Counter Intelligence War Room (WR)’, n.d., Folder 170, Box 23, Entry 119; all in RG 226, NARA; the 28 February date is from the Shay Returnee Report. 58. Memorandum on Meeting of 7 February 1945. 59. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, p. 268, gives 1 March as the War Room’s start date, and details April ISOS. 60. SRH-153, RG 457, NARA. 61. Hinsley and Simkins, IV, p. 268. 62. Norman Holmes Pearson to Col Forgan, 30 April 1945, Folder 998, Box 270, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 63. First month after collapse, ‘X-2 Branch Monthly Report of Activities for June 1945’, Folder 107, Box 91; ‘death ray’, OSS Detachment 12 AG Operational Report, 21 May 1945, Folder 13, Box 6; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA.

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64. ‘War Diary, X-2, 2’, p. 17, frame 1178—on relations with other branches, cf. pp. 107–8, frames 1256–7. 65. Howard S.Cady Field Report, 22 May 1945, Folder 46a#2, Box 11, Entry 99; on X-2/R&A and X-2/SI information exchanges, see draft agreements from February– March 1945, frames 760–90, Reel 57, Entry 95; both in RG 226, NARA. 66. Lord Field Report, Folder 46b#l, Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; on SO and countersabotage, see Chapter 8. 67. Osgood Nichols Field Report, 4 June 1945, Folder 46b#2; Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 68. Narrative and quotes from ‘British Intelligence System’, pp. 55–9; see also B.F.Smith, Shadow, p. 81; Gladwyn, Memoirs, pp. 101–2; Hugh Dalton, The Fateful Years: Memoirs, 1931–1945 (London: Frederick Muller, 1957), p. 377; see also Edmond Taylor, Awakening from History (Boston: Gambit, 1969). 69. Lawrence C.Soley, Radio Warfare: OSS and CIA Subversive Propaganda (New York: Praeger, 1989), p. 12; see also the influential Edmond Taylor, The Strategy of Terror: Europe’s Inner Front (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1940). 70. E.L.Taylor to W.D.Whitney, 12 November 1941, Folder 8, Box 70, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; PWE intelligence emphasis from M.G.Balfour to GSO London, 27 November 1942, FO 898/17, PRO. 71. See Allan M.Winkler, The Politics of Propaganda: The Office of War Information, 1942–1945 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978), pp. 26–7, 31, and Young (ed.), Diaries of Robert Bruce Lockhart, 27 August 1942, p. 191. 72. B.F.Smith, Shadow, pp. 157–8; ‘SSO War Diary: Relations with the British’, paras 99–102, Folder 38, Box 3, Entry 147, RG 226, NARA. 73. Shepard Morgan to Lockhart, 5 February 1943, Folder ‘PWD and PWE’, Box 4, Entry 75, RG 226, NARA. 74. Bruce to Buxton, 18 September 1943, Reel 39, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 75. ‘SSO: Relations’, paras 102–5; draft ‘War Diary, Directors Office, Preamble to 1 January 1944’, pp. 12, 14, Folder 248, Box 220, Entry 190; ‘War Diary, OSS/ London, MO Branch, Vol. 1, Administration’, p. 1, frame 318, Reel 2, Entry 91; both in RG 226, NARA; Fred Oechsner to Donovan, 12 June 1943, Folder 97, Box 12, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA; see also R.H.Bruce Lockhart, Comes the Reckoning (London: Putnam, 1947), pp. 181–2; see Young (ed.), Diaries of Robert Bruce Lockhart, 31 May 1943, pp. 238–9. 76. Bruce to J.M.Scribner, 17 December 1943, Folder 39, Box 24, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. 77. Draft War Diary, Director’s Office, OSS/London, Preamble to January 1944, Part II, pp. 20–1, Folder 39, Box 3, Entry 147; draft War Diary, Director’s Office, OSS/ London, Vol. 1, January–March 1944’, paras 50–3, 73, Folder 144, Box 211, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA; see also ‘War Diary, MO, 1’, pp. 2–14; see also Winkler, Politics, pp. 122–6, and Lockhart, Reckoning, p. 196. 78. On SO-MO, see Rae Smith and David Winston to Bruce, 23 February 1944, Paul Van Der Stricht to Joseph Haskell, 25 March 1944, and Lester Armour to Donovan, 26 May 1944, all in Folder 190, Box 343, Entry 190; on gossip reporting, see Rae Smith to Williamson, 17 June 1944, quoted in the ETO Officers Pouch of 27 June 1944, Folder 38, Box 9, Entry 99; all in RG 226, NARA; see also Winkler, Politics, pp. 122–6, and Lockhart, Reckoning, p. 196.

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79. SHAEF Directive in ‘War Diary, OSS/London, MO Branch, Vol. 7, Basic Documents’, frames 221–3, Reel 3, Entry 91, RG 226, NARA. 80. ‘War Diary, OSS/London, MO Branch, Vol. 2, Publication’, pp. 1–9, frames 345– 54, Reel 2, Entry 91, RG 226, NARA. 81. MO Branch Progress Report for 15–31 January 1945, dated 31 January 1945, Folder 9, Box 4, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 82. Penetration of Germany, OSS Activities Report for February 1945, Folder 124, Box 94, Entry 99; Armour quotes, Armour to Forgan, 16 March 1945, Folder 994, Box 270, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 83. Cavendish-Bentinck quote in ‘Suggested Inquiry into the Effect of British Political Warfare against Germany’, 12 July 1945, FO 898/420, PRO. 84. Cady Final Report. 85. Charles Cruickshank, The Fourth Arm: Psychological Warfare, 1938–1945 (London: Davis-Poynter, 1977), pp. 185–7. 86. Cf. Alexander DeConde, A History of American Foreign Policy, Vol. II Global Power (1900 to the Present), (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 3rd edn, 1978), p. 180. 87. Michael Balfour, Propaganda in War, 1939–1945: Organisations, Policies and Publics in Britain and Germany (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), pp. 317–20; see also Lockhart, Reckoning, p. 229; Howarth, Chief, p. 182; Anne Armstrong, Unconditional Surrender: The Impact of the Casablanca Policy upon World War II (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1974), pp. 167–224, 249, 254–5; Heinz Höhne, Canaris, trans. J.Maxwell Brownjohn (London: Seeker and Warburg, 1979), p. 482; cf. A.E.Campbell, ‘Franklin Roosevelt and Unconditional Surrender’, in Langhorne (ed.), Diplomacy, pp. 232, 240. 88. Max Hastings, Overlord: D-Day and the Battle for Normandy (London: Michael Joseph, 1984), p. 172. 89. Final Report of John P.Harris, 15 November 1944, Folder 46a#l, Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 90. Field Report of Christ Brix, n.d., Folder 46a#l, Box 11, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 91. Lord Report.

8 Full Circle: Anglo-American Intelligence and the Transition to Cold War

War’s end did not immediately bring about any great innovations in British and American intelligence. Britain’s intelligence system remained largely decentralized, and William Donovan’s attempt to perpetuate his organization as a strongly centralized American post-war intelligence service came to nought. Ironically, OSS faded from the scene just as Russia began emerging as a real threat to the post-war world. American intelligence bodies largely failed to anticipate this development in keeping with the assumptions of America’s preferred post-war foreign policy, while OSS was itself primarily geared toward ‘denazifying’ occupied Germany. Thanks to information obtained from British intelligence, however, the London mission finally began appreciating matters just before OSS was disbanded. A successor organization was then left to manage an evolving intelligence situation that its political superiors only dimly recognized, and that it was hardly equipped to deal with alone. The ongoing relationship with British intelligence thus acquired great significance throughout early 1946. British policy-makers were only too aware of Russian hostility toward traditional British interests, and of Britain’s inability to confront this threat alone. They naturally considered it imperative to inform American leaders about this situation, and the Anglo-American intelligence relationship proved critical to achieving this end. This link not only contributed in due course to America’s reassessment of Soviet intentions, but it also indirectly helped prove the continued relevance of a fully mobilized American peacetime intelligence capability, thereby succeeding where Donovan himself failed. The AngloAmerican intelligence connection in the face of a mutual threat thus recalls the context of OSS/London’s genesis. It also illustrates the consistent importance of Britain’s pragmatic self-interest, and down-plays the significance usually ascribed to Donovan personally. The Anglo-American intelligence relationship accordingly entered the Cold War as it did the Second World War—grounded in necessity, not in sentiment or superficial personality. By mid-1946, the intelligence dimension of Anglo-American affairs had indeed turned full circle. As detailed in Chapter 1, Broadway’s absorption of SOE was sanctioned in August 1945 as a means of reconciling the ad hoc sabotage arm with the permanent Secret Service.1 The JIC also proposed on 1 June 1945 establishing a Joint Intelligence Bureau under its control for centralizing existing and future

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joint service intelligence units, such as scientific and topographical intelligence. As indicated by its take-over of SOE’s function and the decision not to merge MI6(V) with MI5 (see Chapter 7), SIS managed to withstand the persistent threats to its traditional primacy, although GCHQ’s reflected glory was credited for this in OSS.2 Wartime Secret Service expenditures (covering the work of SIS, GCHQ, MI5, SOE, and PWE) had understandably dwarfed those of prewar years (see Chapter 1, p. 19), rising to £5,622,334 during 1940–41, £7,535,897 in 1941–42, £11,919,551 through 1942–43, to a peak of £15,021,643 in 1943–44, provisionally declining for 1944–March 1945 to £12,637,000 (when approached about releasing these numbers to Parliament in June 1945, Churchill responded: ‘It is much too soon to publish these figures. I do not think they ought to be disclosed till the end of the Japanese war; but anyhow not in the middle of an Election’).3 While war’s end might justify reducing intelligence expenses, there was no impetus to make drastic changes concerning the overall intelligence system beyond those minor developments noted above.4 The experience of working with OSS/London did not make any meaningful impression on the British in this regard. The JIC’s existing centralization and coordination of strategic assessment was deemed sufficient, and preferable to using any ‘permanently assigned staff of a separate central agency’.5 The service intelligence chiefs continued, for example, to assume responsibility for overseeing joint strategic estimates. SIS discussed its intelligence objectives with the other JIC members, but it was not given intelligence directives per se by the JIC. Secret intelligence collection was still responsive to the needs of MI6’s Circulating Sections, which themselves represented the JIC’s component services and ministries. These services and ministries then individually collated the material so gathered, and if relevant to joint strategic appreciations, passed it to the JIC. The operational management of British intelligence nonetheless remained outside the JIC’s purview.6 There was obviously no desire to experiment with the OSS system of theoretical centralization. Although consistently honoured in the breach, the concept of mating intelligence collection, executive operations, and intelligence assessment under one authority was supposedly the legacy of American methods. The British remained unconvinced. As late as 8 November 1947, a report on intelligence organization by Sir Douglas Evill indicated that a system of more closely centralized intelligence departments ‘under a single authority, on the American model, offer[ed] important advantages to coordination’, but it would presumably complicate the work of the military staffs. Evill added that the JIB ‘centralised very satisfactorily certain processes of intelligence’, and that he did not ‘see much opportunity for profitably carrying this centralisation much further’. It was afterwards suggested in 1950 that intelligence centralization could not outpace defence centralization as a whole, and that there was no reason to disagree with Evill’s report.7 As the war wound down, American strategic intelligence in fact grew to resemble, at least temporarily, the British system more than it did OSS, despite

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William Donovan’s hopes to the contrary. Donovan approached President Roosevelt about organizing America’s post-war intelligence on 23 February 1945 with an 18 November 1944 memorandum detailing a plan for an unnamed service acting as a central intelligence authority reporting directly to the President rather than to the JCS. The plan envisaged giving this service responsibility for framing intelligence objectives while collecting and coordinating whatever material the President required to formulate and execute national policy and strategy.8 Donovan’s scheme was nonetheless under fire before Roosevelt even received it. A copy of the plan circulated to the Joint Chiefs (as JCS 1181) was leaked to various newspapers hostile to the Roosevelt administration. An article published by journalist Walter Trohan on 9 February characterized the suggested service as a potential Gestapo. Further articles quoting reaction from the JCS’s own JIC were published on 11 February concerning the military’s preference for control over post-war intelligence, and for avoiding direct reporting by any intelligence supremo to the President (these views were formally set out in JCS 239/5).9 Donovan naturally suspected the JCS at first, but he eventually came to finger FBI Director J.Edgar Hoover for this act of pre-emptive sabotage.10 Roosevelt for his part contented himself with directing Donovan on 5 April to canvass the heads of interested departments and existing intelligence agencies ‘so that a consensus of opinion [could] be secured’.11 This attitude did not reflect any great presidential interest in Donovan’s proposal, so there was no guarantee that it would have been deemed acceptable even had Roosevelt not died a week later on 12 April. The question of post-war intelligence was at any rate now in President Harry S.Truman’s hands. Donovan’s own reputation complicated matters, especially concerning his proven shortcomings as an intelligence director. Whatever his organization’s claim to being a centralized, coordinated service, it has been amply demonstrated in earlier chapters how this phenomenon failed to manifest itself in actuality.12 Furthermore, despite receiving suggestions for realizing true OSS centralization, Donovan persistently supported branch fragmentation given the belief that his nominal overall control equalled centralization. This was clearly shown after Donovan appointed Brigadier-General James Magruder as OSS Deputy-Director of Intelligence, responsible for coordinating the intelligence branches (SI, X-2, R&A) in 1943. Magruder wrote a report on 1 October 1943 recommending greater intra-branch coordination since OSS seemed more of a ‘holding company’ whose various independent concerns only shared the same director. Since there was too much emphasis on paramilitary activities (ostensibly coordinated by a Deputy-Director of Operations) to the detriment of real intelligence work, Magruder believed that OSS would function best if it was confined ‘primarily to intelligence activities of direct use for the military program’, with branch chiefs answering to their respective deputy directors. This would compensate for the debilitating ‘lack of clearcut lines of authority and responsibility’ (Magruder told OSS/Washington’s James Grafton Rogers two months after drafting these comments that ‘OSS [was] small, the war immense,

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that [OSS] scattered] too much, that [it had] many talents, some results’).13 Magruder’s suggestions made Donovan livid, and were interpreted as an attempt to usurp Donovan’s authority. Donovan dismissed Magruder’s logical innovations as objectionable ‘hierarchy’ and ‘bureaucracy’, and repeated his preference for the ‘chain of command as …from [each] Branch Head to the Director’.14 In other words, Donovan wanted nominal control of everything, but real control frankly proved beyond his grasp. He never really directed his organization in any meaningful way, either through the branches or through the overseas missions, where developments unfolded more often in response to local circumstances than to Donovan’s direction. Donovan was in fact widely recognized as a poor administrator, with Washington’s James Rogers attesting to the ‘endless administrative crises’, and London’s David Bruce believing that one should ‘[n]ever ask [Donovan] what to do. Do it and show him what you have done.’15 Donovan’s shortcomings were compounded by his erratic behavior (see Chapter 2), and all of these factors contributed by 1945 to a widespread antipathy for Donovan personally which gravely undermined his attempts at securing OSS in the post-war intelligence bureaucracy.16 This context was most significant when Donovan’s plans ran up against the military’s ideas for post-war intelligence. Bradley Smith has suggested—on the strength of a 12 September 1945 Truman memo to the Secretaries of State, War, and Navy sanctioning their request for continued peacetime signals intelligence collaboration with the British—that Truman consciously opted for SIGINT as the foundation of post-war American intelligence as opposed to continuing with the dubious and unorthodox OSS.17 More convincing is the likelihood that Donovan’s reputation for erratic behavior, arrogant stubbornness, and blatant ambition determined OSS’s fate by alienating the military, who had their own views about post-war intelligence. The senior US Army officer of the American Joint Intelligence Staff, Colonel Ludwell Montague, participated in the US JIC’s ‘fierce debate’ over Donovan’s proposal, and personally drafted JIC 239/5 (noted above). His recollections of events reveal that only passing attention was paid to the issue of post-war intelligence organization until Donovan’s plan of 18 November 1944 was circulated to the JIC. Donovan’s proposed monopoly on clandestine intelligence work, strategic intelligence, and national intelligence policy threatened to give him effective control over all other American intelligence agencies. This would obviously remove OSS and therefore Donovan from under the JCS and eclipse the JIC.18 The JCS instructed Montague to prepare a JIC service members’ paper on the issue (JIC 239/1), arguing that ‘no one operating agency (such as OSS) should be given the power to coordinate the others’ as this would violate the principle of ‘chain of command’.19 Although the JIC’s civilian members favoured Donovan’s plan, a compromise position was eventually worked out by Montague as JIC 239/5, dated 1 January 1945. This proposed a National Intelligence Authority (made up of the Secretaries of State, War, and Navy) coordinating the activities of a director of central intelligence,

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who would also receive assessments and planning advice from a JIC-like Intelligence Advisory Board.20 Secretary of War Henry Stimson favoured the JCS compromise, but suggested that the matter be set aside until war’s end.21 DDI General Magruder counselled Donovan to accept the JCS compromise as this would ‘disarm the opposition’ and secure OSS as the nucleus of post-war American intelligence. Donovan ignored this advice. His ‘authoritarian attitude’ and ‘zealous inability to consider any other point of view than his own’ thus left OSS grievously exposed upon Roosevelt’s death when, unaware of the JCS 239/5 plan, Truman preferred to let the Bureau of the Budget carry on with its recommendations for demobilizing various wartime agencies.22 The proposed demobilizations soon included OSS. Despite Donovan’s plaintive requests to all and sundry for OSS’s survival and its ‘centralized’ format (which Donovan disingenuously claimed was being copied by the British), Truman unceremoniously approved terminating OSS on 13 September 1945, effective 1 October.23 Without any obvious reason to put up with Donovan and his ambitions for intelligence supremacy, the existing JCS-JIC capacity for coordinated strategic assessment enabled Truman to jettison the troublesome OSS Director. The attraction of the JIC moreover depended not so much on SIGINT (which incidentally remained firmly split between the military services until the formation of the National Security Agency in 1952)24 as on its existing capacity for producing joint strategic intelligence assessments, all of which obviously resembled Britain’s JIC system more than OSS. Equally important was the fact that Truman’s decision disposed of Donovan while preserving the OSS operational intelligence branches, albeit in a different guise. This crucial detail is routinely overlooked by historians who imply that the various branches completely expired upon Truman’s termination order.25 With a JIC responsible for strategic assessments, the American intelligence community from 1 October 1945 also included a scaled-down operational intelligence service when SI and X-2 together formed the Strategic Services Unit within the War Department (R&A managed to find a home in the State Department’s Interim Research and Intelligence Service upon OSS’s dissolution, while SO was closed down altogether before Truman’s order).26 The preservation of such assets would prove most significant in the coming months. While these ultimately critical organizational developments unfolded in Washington, the London mission focused on supporting post-hostilities work in occupied Germany. OSS/London postulated in August 1944 that OSS would play a role through R&A monitoring German political, economic, social, and military developments; SI obtaining information on those very aspects of German life; and X-2 exploiting its information about German espionage and sabotage organizations to advise the Allied Control Commission. X-2 rated the probability of continued German secret intelligence or espionage work a high one since plans for such underground intelligence activities had already come to their attention. As well, the potential for an underground Nazi party was considered ‘broader and larger’ than work against the Nazi espionage system, which had

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enjoyed the DOUBLE CROSS advantage.27 By February 1945, OSS/London envisaged SI and X-2 developing secret intelligence from Germany, R&A providing services for US and Allied agencies within Germany, and MO undermining German resistance to the occupation forces.28 This programme was accepted in its essentials and communicated to the JCS on 14 August 1945, excluding the MO component.29 OSS plans complemented SHAEF’s own concerns about the Allies’ security problems in Germany, especially regarding sabotage and assassinating Allied personnel.30 Although SO proposed serving as a countersabotage unit and opposed jeopardizing OSS contacts with SOE, it served no meaningful role in posthostilities Germany, and was disbanded by mid-September 1945 (X-2 opposed SO involvement in counter-sabotage since that was essentially an X-2 matter).31 R&A confined itself to compiling lists of Germans suitable for senior administrative posts, and reporting on German politics, economics, etc. in support of the Allied Control Commission’s Civil Affairs work (potential ‘friendly’ Germans had to be ‘carefully scrutinized’ to determine if they were proAllied and not simply anti-Nazi).32 OSS/Germany’s major contribution centred around X-2 countering residual Nazism while ‘continuing] its close liaison with British secret intelligence organizations’.33 Twelfth US Army Group G-2 Brigadier-General Sibert had stressed the importance of post-hostilities counter-intelligence work in April, and X-2 was accordingly the only OSS branch which anticipated continuing at its wartime strength as it worked toward ‘exterminating the German Intelligence System’.34 X-2 in fact achieved early success when it detected a stay-behind network of agents in southern Germany and Austria.35 X-2 penetration agents were employed to reveal evidence of Nazi sub-version, but this was complicated when German intelligence officers in Cologne apparently began ‘organizing [Nazi] resistance groups under Communist cover’. X-2 also received a ‘surprisingly large number of offers’ from GIS officials ‘to work for the Allies—either for selfish reasons or to embroil [X-2] with the Russians’.36 It soon transpired, however, that despite X-2’s cooperation with Soviet counter-intelligence in July against ‘a formerly German-controlled W/T agent network directed against the Russians in Hungary and Rumania’, no GIS efforts were needed to foster such embroilment.37 By August 1945, ‘Russian attempts to penetrate…[OSS] were revealed when an agent gave himself up immediately after dispatch by the NKVD [i.e., the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs, the Soviet intelligence service]’. X-2 naturally considered this a ‘most fundamentally significant development’, and immediately began running the individual as a double agent. Since X-2 also suspected Russian agent activity in P/W camps in Kassel, the local SCI unit began investigating ‘whether penetration, control, or neutralization should be recommended’.38 Russian intelligence operations against American forces, especially in Berlin, continued throughout September.39 As OSS gave way to SSU, X-2 was naturally orientated more toward ‘a shift in emphasis to longrange targets. Primary importance [was] now attached to activities and

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personalities of all intelligence services rather than the German and Japanese’, although X-2’s counter-measures were doubtless compromised by Broadway’s new Russian Desk chief and Soviet-controlled double-agent, Kim Philby.40 While the original emphasis on containing post-war German resistance admittedly began undergoing a sea-change as OSS faded away, X-2’s experience merely underscored the extent to which OSS was completely unprepared for work against Russia after Germany’s defeat. This fact obviously erodes the assumption that OSS did anything of prophetic consequence against Russia as the European war ended. Indeed, the obliviousness to the Soviet threat was long evident in repeated OSS assessments of Britain’s and Russia’s relative status that mirrored the prevailing view among American authorities, and which cumulatively contributed to Britain’s subsequent desperate position. Most American officials were loath to be seen as overreacting to Russia’s nascent power. One unnamed State Department officer in Berne opined in 1943 that the ‘Bolshevism bogy [was] being used as so often before to conjure up the specter of “Red Terror” and Atheism, without any attempt to discuss Marxism or Stalinism’. He also stated that ‘Stalin’s repeated disclaimers of any desires to Bolshevize Europe—including the…declaration of the Soviet Presidium declaring that they [would] not impose their form of government in Europe— should be useful to us’.41 Such sentiments were duplicated within R&A. R&A/ London’s Post War Problems Committee under Paul Sweezy responded to the question of Big Three cooperation in Germany by arguing in September 1944 that Russia would be motivated primarily by self-interest, which in turn dictated close harmonious ties to the western powers. There was ‘no question of Russian occupation of territory’ beyond its 1940 borders (excepting Germany), ‘and no reason to suppose that Russia [had] any intention or desire to occupy such territory some time in the future The USSR [had] vast undeveloped resources and an economic system which [would] permit their unlimited exploitation for purposes of internal development.’ The fact that ‘Russia [had] no aggressive designs [was] confirmed by everything that…happened since the beginning of the war with Germany. Official Russian pronouncements and acts [had] shown a meticulous regard for the independence of neighboring states.’ No European country would have any ‘incentive to attack Britain since…[it did] not constitute a mil itary menace and possesse[d] no resources indispensable to Europe’. Britain’s congenital conservatism and Russian security concerns nevertheless suggested ‘the probability of a clash between British and Russian European policies after the war’, in which case America’s best course of action would be ‘to refuse support to British policy and to seek to work out a common policy with Russia towards the countries of Europe. This seemed logical since a successful British imperialist policy would jeopardize the European peace, while ‘probable Russian objectives [were] compatible with the maintenance of peace in the calculable future. If Russia and the United States…[could] pursue common policies towards the nations of Europe, Britain [would] have no alternative to joining them.’42 These basic characterizations of British and Russian motivations

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reflected widespread assumptions within R&tA/London, although Carl Schorske believed that while it was illegitimate ‘to use the Bolshevik bogy in order to win sentiment for a given policy’, he ‘was unable to swallow the London memorandum laying down a line for American policy in post-war Europe, where it was suggested that [the US] should follow blindly not Britain, but Russia’.43 Despite these disclaimers, it was still generally accepted within R&A that while Russia’s policy was ‘frequently gauche from the standpoint of the salons and occasionally outrageous from our own viewpoint’, it appeared ‘to be dictated entirely from a desire to assure her security’. Traditional, provocative balance of power politics obligating US support of Britain were therefore obsolete.44 It must be stressed that R&tA/London’s views are noteworthy not for their influence over American policy, but for the extent to which they reflected the underlying assumptions of American policy existing upon Germany’s defeat. These assumptions, moreover, were precisely what Britain needed to overturn in light of Russia’s emerging hostility toward British interests. Britain’s nurturing of Anglo-American intelligence links would accordingly prove vital to the eventual harmonization of British and American policies, particularly given their originally divergent approaches to post-war Russia. In America’s case, the Rooseveltian foreign policy ultimately inherited by Truman was intent upon realizing the ideals enshrined in the Atlantic Charter.45 Roosevelt furthermore crafted these policy objectives without any meaningful input from Secretary of State Cordell Hull beyond Hull’s emphasis on global free trade as a foundation for the new post-war world order.46 Roosevelt was more inclined to make American democracy safe from another war than he was intent on making the world safe for democracy, hence his basic premise of reaching an accord with Russia in light of Britain’s decline as a Great Power.47 Without much confidence in America’s willingness to accept further open-ended involvement in post-war world affairs, Roosevelt relied on a conciliatory approach to Josef Stalin’s Russia in an effort to achieve a workable mutual understanding.48 This was particularly evident during the Big Three Conference at Tehran in 1943, where Roosevelt isolated Churchill and made common cause with Stalin regarding OVERLORD’s timing and definitiveness as a basis for cultivating Stalin’s goodwill over postwar cooperation.49 As such manoeuvres were geared toward effecting Roosevelt’s smooth handling of Stalin, they obviously necessitated approaching Russia with overt goodwill rather than open suspicion, and contributed to the predominant notion, displayed above, that America could afford to conceive of the Russians ‘as simply democrats in furry hats’.50 On a more practical note, Americans tended to believe that Russia was the rising power of the future, while Britain was obsolete and declining—SHAEF Chief of Staff Walter Bedell Smith said as much to SHAEF G-2 Kenneth Strong in 1945.51 While the logic of these goals and assumptions is understandable, it must nevertheless be conceded that it exhibited a singularly glaring weakness, namely, that American policy toward Russia was predicated on an overwhelming hostage to fortune in the form of Stalin’s cooperation. There was little that America could

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do to affect that desired end beyond courting the Soviet dictator; whether or not he played along depended entirely on Stalin. The viability of American post-war policy rested on Stalin’s cooperation in respecting independent states, his concern merely for Soviet security, his intention to focus on domestic reconstruction, etc.; all America could do to further those goals was mollify Stalin through recognition of Russia’s power, avoid provoking defensive hostility, and ostentatiously distance itself from perfidious Albion’s traditional Great Power politicking against imagined Bolshevik bogies. This approach was on one level a realistic acceptance of the reality of Soviet power, and the limits on America’s options, but it nevertheless reflected Roosevelt’s own naïveté enshrined as policy. According to William Emerson, the ‘soundness and realism of his political motives’ were particularly questionable. Roosevelt apparently doubted the American people’s ‘ability and willingness to shoulder new, weighty, and, as the event has shown, unavoidable responsibilities’, but a fundamental flaw of his policy stemmed from his hope, ‘in the changed world of 1945, to pursue a course of action which would preserve the benefits while avoiding the disadvantages of isolation’.52 Central to this intent was the underlying assumption that the Second World War would be the last war, thus minimizing the importance of developing a concrete basis for post-war security against Russia—Russia, after all, was expected to be conveniently compliant and moderate.53 The reality of Soviet power, however, ensured that America could not be the controlling element in Europe.54 Roosevelt therefore had to rely on his ability to manage Stalin—on his ability to ‘stroke a tiger into a kitten’- and it is here that US policy manifested a willing belief in Russia’s reasonableness in a new world which would supplant Britain’s cynical methods.55 Roosevelt actually articulated the reasoning behind this belief to Churchill (concerning the prospect of Chinese designs on Indochina) when he stated that Britain had ‘400 years of acquisitive instinct in [its] blood and you just don’t understand how a country might not want to acquire land somewhere if they can get it. A new period has opened up in the world’s history, and you will have to adjust to it.’56 The worth of Roosevelt’s policy thus depended entirely on his reading of Stalin’s motives and attitudes, and their susceptibility to Roosevelt’s influence. Stalin had his own ideas, particularly under the rubric of Soviet security. Roosevelt in particular misunderstood Stalin’s participation in the optimistically named Grand Alliance for the defeat of Russia’s arch-enemy as a commitment to a post-war New Order.57 Once the common enemy was defeated, there was no common objective between America and Russia, and Stalin began to assert what he felt were his security requirements.58 These amounted to an unreasonable hegemony in eastern Europe, which America was slow to appreciate thanks to its leader’s misplaced, if somewhat desperate, optimism in an Uncle Joe who never was.59 Allied to this aggressive security stance was Stalin’s eagerness to exploit Russia’s new ability to project power into areas previously beyond its reach. Because western leaders failed to impress Stalin with the limits of their

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tolerance, his precipitate overreaching more than anything recklessly brought Russia into conflict with its erstwhile allies.60 This was the context in which British officials tried to convince Roosevelt’s successor and heir to his foreign policy of Russia’s emerging challenge to the post-war order. Eraser Harbutt characterizes this transition period as ‘a first Cold War’, during which Stalin deliberately targeted British interests for exploitation under the presumption that America had granted him a free hand by virtue of its rejection of a standing Anglo-American alliance in Europe. Confident of Britain’s isolation and America’s detachment, Stalin launched ‘a comprehensive political campaign’ against various British interests vital to its status as a Great Power.61 Optimism about Soviet objectives originally minimized this threat in British eyes. Like the Americans, a British War Cabinet Sub-Committee on PostHostilities Planning thought in early 1944 that Russia was ‘more likely to expend her energy and resources upon achieving…a higher standard of comfort, liberty, culture and contentment of her people than to follow a policy of external aggrandizement at the expense of other states which might embroil her in another war’ with all the consequences that this might entail for ‘her peaceful economic development’. Realism would off-set Russia’s traditional ‘opportunism and self-interest’, and make it unwilling for up to thirty years ‘to invite another foreign war before its domestic aims [had] been mainly achieved’, although ‘many changes [might] take place before then’. Having said that, Persia and Iraq stood as ‘possible areas of impact between British and Russian interests’ given Britain’s reliance on Near Eastern oil—to be cut off from these supplies would make Britain’s ‘position in war precarious’. Russia’s ‘partial absorption of Turkey’ was also considered a possible threat as it would ‘facilitate attack upon the Middle East oil supplies, and [Britain’s] Mediterranean communications…. If it became obvious that Russia intended aggression against these interests [Britain] should have to prepare for war with her.’ It was assumed, however, that conciliation toward Russia would obviate this threat. Britain’s best policy would be ‘not to stand in Russia’s way unless [Britain’s] vital interests [were] actually threatened’. Britain should support Russian demands ‘in areas which she considers essential to her security in exchange for her support of [British] claims in areas vital to [it]’. Failing that, it was believed that given local American interests, Soviet aggression would ‘automatically involve’ America ‘in any Russian interference’ in the Near/Middle East, a fact that ‘might act as a deterrent to Russia’. The report still realized that these appreciations, ‘based largely on assumptions, [would] require continued modification as Russia’s real policy unfold[ed]’.62 Britain’s JIC largely supported these initial assumptions in a December 1944 report which concluded that Russia would be motivated primarily by the imperatives of security and domestic reconstruction. Security would be served by strategic dominance over eastern Europe and the de-fanging of Germany and Japan, so the JIC could not ‘see what else Russia could under such conditions hope to gain from a policy of aggression’. Russia would at least experiment with

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Big Three cooperation, and only in light of British or American insincerity would Russia ‘try by political intrigue to stir up trouble in Greece, the whole of the Middle East and India, and exploit her influence over the Communist parties in the countries concerned to stimulate opposition to an anti-Russian policy’. Allowing for Russian ‘tactlessness in the handling of international affairs’, Russia’s dealings with America and Britain would ‘depend very largely on the ability of either side to convince the other of the sincerity of its desire for collaboration’.63 These views were accepted by Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, and their similarity with contemporary American assumptions can be appreciated.64 There was also a significant difference—the realization that concessions to Russia had to be founded on a hard and fast mutual recognition of interest, and a reliance on assertiveness (or ultimately a form of ‘containment’) in the event of Soviet non-cooperation. Britain’s weakness put it at a definite disadvantage compared to Russia, but British policy was not so simplistic and crude as to rely exclusively on Stalin’s presumed goodwill and reasonableness. The British seemed to be more overtly putting their stock in establishing an understanding based on certain power realities.65 This cautious optimism was nevertheless forced to undergo substantial revision as Anglo-Russian relations passed from the Grand Alliance stage to one of active Soviet hostility toward British interests born of Stalin’s assumption of American detachment. This, according to Harbutt, set the framework for a third stage whereby a Soviet-instigated crisis in Anglo-Russian relations throughout 1946 finally saw America brought into confrontation with Soviet aggression. There were three main areas of Soviet pressure throughout these stages— Turkey, Greece, and Iran, just as anticipated. Bruce R.Kuniholm further underscores that the Near East traditionally stood as a buffer zone between Britain and Russia, and its role in the post-war Anglo-Soviet rivalry was such that it revolutionized American foreign policy toward an eventual commitment to confronting Russia.66 Harry Truman’s ascendancy to the White House did not alter the fact that America was in 1945 committed to a detached, cooperative policy concerning Russia, and Truman’s neophyte status in fact made it that much more problematic as to whether the US would adopt an overtly challenging attitude toward Russian aims with sufficient alacrity.67 Turkish and Greek affairs were particularly entwined for the British in the war’s closing months. The threat to Greece centred around the Communist EAM movement in the country seeking to overthrow the Greek monarchy, while overt Russian hostility to Turkey was connected with Soviet territorial ambitions in the region. Blatant Russian ‘coldness’ toward Turkey manifested itself as early as September 1944 when Russia’s Ambassador failed to call on Turkey’s new Foreign Minister, thus underscoring that ‘greater efforts [had] been made on the Turkish side than on the Soviet side to improve relations’.68 Soviet hostility increased as Anglo-Turkish relations improved after spring 1944; by March 1945, Radio Moscow barraged Turkey daily with criticism and abuse, which the Foreign Office interpreted as a run-up to Soviet demands regarding the

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Bosphorus and Dardenelles (‘the Straits question’).69 Russia duly followed with a June 1945 demand for bases in the Straits, and the FO concluded by July that Russia was ‘preparing to challenge [Britain’s] policy of building up a strong and independent Greece and Turkey friendly to Great Britain, and at the same time strengthen the position of their own client in Bulgaria’. Britain assumed that this was primarily intended to preclude Bulgaria’s isolation, and that a successful countering by Britain would stop Russian plans. Soviet successes in Greece, however, would enable them to ‘overthrow the Greek Government and revive EAM and also to reduce Turkey by a war of nerves to a state where she would be prepared to give the Soviet Government the bases on the Straits which she has demanded, and generally to force her into the Russian orbit’.70 The JIC still assumed that Russia would prefer exhausting all peaceful means of realizing its Turkish ambitions before initiating overt military aggression against Greece from Bulgaria, but the COS took a more urgent view of Britain’s predicament: while the FO assumed that the British Army could commit itself to a defence of the Greek frontiers, Field-Marshal Sir Alan Brooke stressed that such a change in policy from strictly internal security duties in Greece would require Cabinet approval. Britain would moreover have to increase its forces in Greece considerably. Few of the necessary British Army formations were currently available in Britain or the Middle East, and the RAF component could only be secured barring any other Mediterranean threat. Brooke particularly stressed that Britain ‘might well be seriously embarrassed militarily if [its] bluff were called; and besides, the risk of conflict with Russian forces would have to be taken seriously into account in assessing…[the] overall military situation’.71 As the COS stressed Britain’s desperate military position, the British Embassy in Washington found the new Secretary of State, James Byrnes, ‘very much out of his depth in these South Eastern European problems’ toward the end of August, and reluctant to issue simultaneous pronouncements on such matters ‘as this would merely give [the] Russians needless cause to complain that [America and Britain] were ganging up on them’. The Joint Staff Planners underscored the danger of American reticence given British military weakness in a September appreciation requested by the FO which focused on how Russian demands concerning the Straits permitted further expansion into the eastern Mediterranean and Middle East, a direct blow against British interests. Russian bases in the Straits were deemed ‘unacceptable’, requiring Britain to prevent such extension and preserve the status quo. If Britain had American support this threat would be greatly offset, but the JPS went on to note that ‘[a]t present the attitude the Americans are likely to take in opposing Russian demands [was] uncertain’.72 This doubt was reinforced in a matter of days when the British Embassy in Washington reiterated that while American rhetoric concerning Russian policy in Rumania and Bulgaria seemed tougher, the Administration [was] still most anxious to avoid any semblance of giving needless offence to the Russians and of thus reviving the accusation

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of liberal and left-wing commentaries…that the United States Government [was] allowing itself to be dragged along in an anti-Soviet policy at the tail of the British kite. The sensitiveness of the State Department to possible clamours of nervous camp followers in their rear necessarily complicates the task of coordinating American policy with our own and lends them at times to pursue tactics which bear an unfortunate resemblance to ‘the gallant Duke of York’.73 Combined with America’s unreliability was Britain’s failure to secure Russian cooperation. This was especially obvious when the Soviets rebuffed Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin’s direct request for mutual frankness in realizing each country’s aims.74 Such Russian frankness was not forthcoming then or later, and British concerns about Russian activities grew accordingly.75 A JIC assessment of the Russian threat to Turkey on 6 October 1945 surveyed Turkish reports of increased Russian military activity near Turkey’s frontiers with Bulgaria and Russia. As Turkey rejected Russia’s June demands for bases in the Straits, the Russians made further territorial claims concerning Anatolia, thus providing two pre-texts for aggression. The JIC noted that Russia was proceeding as if it were ‘the sole arbiter of the destiny’ of south-east European countries, and that Russia could re-deploy troops from Rumania and Hungary within a matter of weeks for a direct attack against Turkey. Such an attack was nevertheless considered unlikely at that time, and the JIC believed that Russian activities were part of its war of nerves against the Turks as a means of securing their desired concessions (significantly, this report was circulated to the American JIC on 31 October as Memorandum for Information 189).76 The FO still noted that such activities rattled the Turks.77 As for the Greek problem, the COS frankly stated their preferred solution to Britain’s dilemma on 31 December. The JPS had prepared a paper on 17 December stating the desirability of American participation in Greece, and the unlikelihood of such assistance given America’s attitude that Greece was Britain’s responsibility, and America’s rapid military demobilization. The JPS therefore did not believe ‘that there [was] any possibility at present of obtaining American military participation’, but did consider American political and financial help to be possible.78 The COS seized on this to press the JPS to strengthen the economic line of argument, apparently in an effort to underscore that Britain had to get America on its side given Britain’s inability to shoulder this economic burden alone (CIGS Lord Alanbrooke explicitly stated the attractiveness of getting America ‘to realise that their interests were also involved and thereby get them to share the cost’).79 The growing threat to Greece and Turkey was paralleled in another area of Soviet ambition, namely Persia (later Iran). Persia was a focal point for AngloRussian imperial rivalry dating back to the late-1820s. Russian attempts to penetrate established British spheres—most notably India—were traditionally based on the idea that shifts in the Near Eastern balance of power would

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influence the basic European balance of power. This made Persia a major area of competition in addition to Central Asia and the Indian frontier itself, and the ensuing ‘Great Game’ encompassed the evolution of British intelligence activity in the region, with a system of consular watching posts coordinated from Meshed, Persia operating by 1886.80 Anglo-Russian intrigue within Persia would be the staple in 1945, as it had been in the 1800s, as the Russians again sought to influence the larger European balance of power in the Near East. Persia’s obvious oil potential added to its strategic significance, and this was not lost on the Russians.81 By October 1944, Persia was resisting Russia’s demands for oil concessions to explore and exploit the northern oil-bearing regions, which naturally introduced considerable tension between the two.82 This led to the usual Russian methods of intimidation and hostility, summarized by the British Combined Intelligence Centre Iraq and Persia (CICIP) as follows: During…1945 Russian influence in Persia rapidly achieved a position of aggressive dominance. This seems to have been accomplished by three methods. Firstly, by diplomatic manoeuvring, with browbeating of individuals where necessary. Secondly, by interference in Persian politics through revolutionary parties, and minority movements, as well as through a group of Majlis [i.e., parliament] deputies hoping to gain by Russian success, or collaborating under pressure. Thirdly by armed intervention in favour of rebels and by military pressure to back diplomacy. By December [1945] Persia’s balance of power no longer existed, her internal affairs were in confusion and her richest province was detached. Soviet anger over the refusal of oil concessions triggered ultimately unsuccessful efforts ‘to dominate Southern Persia by controlling its largest industrial centre through the TUDEH Party’. Despite 1942 treaty obligations to remove British and Russian troops within six months after the end of hostilities, many Red Army troops were left behind as ostensible civilians. When a tribal revolt broke out in Azerbaijan on 16 November, the rebels were assisted by Persian exresidents of the USSR and by Russian troops in plain clothes. Russian forces even went so far as to stop the Persian government from sending its own military to suppress the revolt, thus bluntly ending Persian authority in that province.83 Throughout this campaign, Russia assailed Persia with print and radio assaults against Britain in an effort to capitalize on British weakness and undermine British influence.84 These attacks were often imaginative. CICIP noted in August 1945 that the Iran-i-Ma newspaper argued that ‘there would be no change in British policy as a result of the [July] Labour victory, for as everyone well knew, the British Empire was ruled by the British Secret Service, and a change of Government would certainly make for no change in the policy of that sinister body’ (CICIP noted that the article’s writer had ‘fell foul of the British Security authorities in 1943 and was subsequently interned’).85 Two weeks later it was revealed that the Freedom Front newspaper conceived the British Conservative

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Party as being ‘at the centre of a monstrous spider’s-web of intrigue with worldwide ramifications, the power behind the British Secret Service and the agency responsible for the training of such fiendish spies as T.E. LAWRENCE’; the recent change of government was ‘merely another plot to lull the Workers of the World into a false sense of security, and then, from ambush, to strike and destroy their power forever’.86 More serious was the constant Soviet press criticism of British international policy, domestic social conditions, and the government’s general attitude, including post-election disappointment with the Labour Party and its dependence on America.87 The implied American support of Britain was certainly exaggerated concerning Persia as these events were unfolding, since the British Ambassador to Tehran described his American counterpart, Wallace Murray, as being ignorant of British policy and actions in the country as late as November 1945.88 The FO hoped in December that the departing British Ambassador, Sir Reader Bullard, would ‘make a final attempt to remove some of Mr Murray’s misconceptions about British policy’, although it was conceded that Murray was ‘one of those Americans whose pre-conceived ideas it [would] be most difficult to shift’ as Britain tried to communicate its concerns over Russian actions.89 The August-December 1945 period thus saw British officialdom confront the reality of Soviet designs on British interests, and the concomitant realization that Britain could not on its own mollify or contain this aggression without American help. Britain’s wartime experience had firmly ‘imprinted in British decisionmakers the judgement that the American connection was Britain’s most vital lastditch strategic asset’.90 Britain was essentially in the same position it was in during 1917 and 1941—isolated against a powerful adversary, and looking to America for deliverance. Britain again had to convince America of its interest in thwarting Britain’s rivals.91 With Britain’s power stretched to the limit, it now had to overcome America’s naive policy premises, the assumptions of British deviousness, and the reality of the Soviet threat to fashion another ‘marriage of necessity’.92 That would not be easy in light of prevailing American attitudes about Britain’s status as a Great Power and the exercise of American leadership. A dispatch on American attitudes by Mr John Balfour of Britain’s Washington Embassy to Foreign Secretary Bevin on 9 August 1945 stressed how Americans thought in terms of ‘the Big Two’, namely America and Russia. The new reality of American dominance made it partial to a faith ‘in the magic of large words; an enthusiastic belief that the mere enunciation of an abstract principle is equivalent to its concrete fulfillment; a tendency to overlook the practical difficulties that obstruct the easy solution of current problems’; and ‘a constant disposition to prefer the emotional to the rational approach’, all of which would provoke ‘impatience with the more stolid, disillusioned and pragmatic British, and to give rise to current misunderstandings between [the] two Governments’. America still held Britain in considerable esteem, but this tended to assume ‘the apparently ineradicable idea that nature has endowed the British with a well-nigh

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inexhaustible store of superior cunning, of which they are only too prone to make the fullest possible use’ in international affairs. Americans thus tended to criticize British policy by way of ‘a number of ugly catch-words…e.g. balance of power, Spheres of Influence, reactionary imperialist trends, colonial aggression, old-world guile, diplomatic double-talk, Uncle Sam [the] Santa Claus and sucker, and the like’. Britain could counter this tendency provided it referred to a typically American yard-stick such as ‘moral responsibility, idealism, or leadership’. For the time-being, Americans were still likely to rate Russia as more important than Britain, and trust in the ability of Truman and Byrnes to ‘succeed in resolving Soviet and American differences on a basis of honorable compromise’ to secure a ‘world that rotates in two orbits of power’. Americans expected that British foreign policy in Europe or the Middle East would likely embark ‘on ill-advised courses which in the last analysis might constitute a threat’ to US security, so America would enforce Britain’s junior status. The British government thus had to be ‘careful to formulate requests for their support in such a manner as to avoid teaching the Americans where their best interests lie. … As men who themselves preferred] the simple forthright approach, the Americans appreciate[d] plain speaking in others’, and were best approached ‘not so much on the grounds of sentiment as upon lucidly argued appeals to reason and the logic of hard fact’. Success in this method would then enable Britain once again to ‘save Europe by [its] example’.93 This survey succinctly stated the ideal methodology for Britain’s appeal to America regarding the Soviet threat during the first cold war—the reliance on hard fact to make Americans see the light. Some FO officials still assumed that Britain could simply ‘make shrewd use’ of America’s dependence on the British Commonwealth’s geographical dominance in America’s own security zone ‘to turn their immensely superior power to [Britain’s] benefit as well as to that of the world as a whole’; but the FO’s North American Department ‘heartily share [d]’ Balfour’s advice, and successfully recommended its circulation to King George VI and the Cabinet.94 ‘Americans appreciate realism in others even if they do not always display it themselves’, and this realism was implicit in Britain’s associating America with its Middle Eastern interests, instead of trying to preserve ‘an exclusive position which would threaten to bring [Britain] into conflict with their interests’. The Americans would also be impressed by ‘evidence of [Britain’s] old ability to judge important issues with the experience and objectivity which they have learnt to expect…and to give wise council when the atmosphere is over-charged with emotional tension’.95 Intelligence could play a central role in realizing these objectives—shared as they were by the highest echelons of the military and the Foreign Office—to convince America’s government of the reality of Soviet aggression against British, and ultimately American, interests. The circulation of British intelligence to America’s JIC, JCS, and State Department throughout 1945–46 demonstrates the heretofore unacknowledged intelligence dimension of the process by which America came to ally herself with Britain and confront Russia. Although it has

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only been assumed in some quarters that the system of Anglo-American intelligence pooling established during the Second World War remained unchanging and constant, it can in fact be clearly demonstrated that Britain worked hard to foster the intelligence link during the first cold war as a means of getting British information and viewpoints injected into the American strategic concept.96 This is particularly reflected in the evolution of the US JIC’s various assessments of Anglo-Soviet relations throughout this period.97 The US Joint Intelligence Staff assessed post-war Soviet capabilities and intentions in January 1945 as being essentially benign by force of circumstance. The devastating personnel and economic losses sustained in the war with Germany (estimated as involving a ten million drop in population and a 25 per cent destruction of all major branches of the Russian economy) were understandably expected to curb any expansionist desires until at least 1952. Economic reconstruction to raise Russia’s standard of living was considered Stalin’s top priority. This would necessarily reduce Russian military expenditures, while the 1945 pool of military-age males was slightly less than in 1941. There would be no stomach for international adventurism or further war, only for domestic needs and achievements.98 An addendum on Soviet foreign policy by regions predicted that it was unlikely for Russia to try to extend its influence in Greece; that it would not demand control of the Straits since it would not risk war with Britain; and that there was little chance of Anglo-Russian conflict in Persia since British interests were concentrated in the south, with Russian interests in the north.99 The JIC accepted this analysis for general concurrence as JIC 250/1, and explicitly concluded in their own JIC 250/2 that ‘[i]n order to accomplish maximum economic recovery, the Soviet Union must avoid conflict with Great Britain and the United States, or even such tension as would lead to an armaments race, at least until after 1952’. The JIC believed that Russia would in fact follow such a policy unless it conceived ‘its vital interests relating to national security to be threatened’.100 The US Joint Intelligence Staff then assessed British capabilities and intentions on 10 May 1945 as being shaped by an envy and resentment of America and Russia, and by an inferiority complex regarding Britain’s relative weakness. British foreign policy would be determined more by US or Soviet actions than British preferences. Although Britain might be tempted to play off America against Russia, Anglo-American friendship would be its paramount goal in conjunction with its traditional reliance on balance of power and spheres of influence—‘even though they have proved disastrous in the past’— to offset Russia’s domination of Europe. Britain’s irrational fear of ‘the Bolshevik menace’ could lead to conflict with Russia, assuming American military support for Britain; but as matters stood, the Soviets were not a threat in Greece, British weakness would make Britain ‘probably acquiesce in modifications to the Montreux Convention’ governing the Straits question, while Britain would likely be reduced to preserving its declining fortunes in Persia by holding on to the south.101 America’s JIC/JIS thus largely subscribed to the view of a peaceful

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Russia and a fading, yet Machiavellian, Britain as the European war ended. The underlying assumptions of American policy were clearly manifest in America’s main strategic assessment mechanism. Weak British conservatism and a powerful, but inward-looking USSR could be managed by America. There was little potential for serious trouble in the Near East. The US JIC found cause to reassess matters throughout 1945, however. The JIS transmitted an analysis of Soviet capabilities to the JCS on behalf of the JIC on 29 November 1945 that considered ‘Soviet political aims and capabilities for expanding the Soviet sphere of influence by means short of war through 1 January 1948’, and Russia’s ability to support a major war. The JIS concluded that Russia’s economy was likely to remain incapable of supporting a war over the coming five years, thus making Russia ‘likely to avoid the risks of such a war during that period’. Russia would nevertheless pursue the aim of establishing Soviet hegemony in peripheral areas. Russia maintained an as yet unrealized ability to foment civil strife in Greece, and its goals in Turkey were confined to revising the Straits question and neutralizing Turkey as a base for hostile action against Russia. Russia was unlikely to expand its influence in Persia as this would risk an open break with Britain.102 This assessment of Soviet activities emphasized the idea that Russia was only seeking to consolidate its recent peripheral acquisitions. A 31 January 1946 analysis assumed that Russia was not prepared to risk deliberately a major conflict with the other Great Powers; however, a conflict could result from ‘Soviet miscalculation as to the point beyond which she [could not] aggressively pursue these aims without directly provoking Anglo-American military reaction’, or from ‘an incident, involving a minor power such as Turkey, which might produce indirectly a British, and subsequently a US military reaction’. It was nevertheless still a substantial revision of the US JIC’s earlier assumptions about Russia’s potential aggression, and is noteworthy given the circulation of the British JIC’s October report on the looming threat to Turkey discussed above, and the recent Soviet annexation of Azerbaijan.103 The British dimension of the strategic equation was explicitly covered within a week after this report when the US JIC surveyed British capabilities under the assumptions that Russia would ‘attempt to extend her present boundaries or spheres of influence by military action’, and that Britain would resist these efforts either with direct US military assistance, or with ‘lendlease or similar support short of war’. In this detailed analysis, Britain was specifically judged incapable of unilaterally stopping a Soviet seizure of Greece, Turkey or Persia through to 1948, and could not by herself protect the Suez Canal against Russian attack after 1952. The report specifically noted that Russian interest in the eastern Mediterranean/Near East focused on these areas, Vitally important’ and absolutely necessary to Britain.104 The JIC was now a good deal less smug about the prospects of Russian cooperativeness, or Britain’s irrational exaggeration of the ‘Bolshevik menace’. The increased receipt of British assessments from the British Joint Staff Mission (BJSM) in Washington seems to have been significant to this change in

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perceptions. The BJSM forwarded to the US JIC a report on 15 May 1946 concerning ‘Russian Troop Movements in South-East Europe and Persia’ (with a request ‘that the British JIC origin of the enclosure be not disclosed in any subsequent use made of the report or the material therein’).105 This was followed by a detailed British report on Russia’s strategic interests and intentions in the Middle East in June (which stressed Russia’s overt aim to weaken Britain specifically); an updated analysis of the same topic in July; and a British report on the situation in Persia on 5 August.106 These reports clearly had an impact. By 25 September, the Director of US Naval Intelligence noted the receipt of these reports, and the fact that the US JIC had never reciprocated. If the US JIC wished to continue receiving Britain’s JIC estimates, it had to be ‘on an exchange basis’, lest the source dry up. There were many places, ‘particularly parts of Europe, the Near East, and the Middle East’, where Britain’s information sources were superior to America’s, and given ‘the [existing] world situation’, it was obviously desirable that the US JIC ‘continue to receive such estimates’.107 Britain’s concerted effort at making American strategic assessors aware of British conclusions, and their empirical basis, is clear. The passage of British JIC reports to their US counterpart was obviously in keeping with the aforementioned dictum that the Americans appreciated plain-speaking grounded in fact, and the change in US JIC analyses, coupled with the real desire to maintain that flow of British intelligence, demonstrates its effectiveness. Such efforts were not confined to strategic assessments, however. OSS and SSU were also privy to critical British intelligence sources on specific details of Russian activities inimical to British interests, and these were in turn circulated throughout American military and diplomatic channels in Europe during 1945– 46. Despite R&A’s negative views of Britain relative to Russia (and its July 1944 dismissal of the Communist threat in Greece as ‘greatly exaggerated’), OSS itself provided the means of overcoming the obviously widespread US scepticism about the Soviet-British equation evidenced at war’s end in Europe.108 Immediately upon Germany’s defeat, OSS assets in the ETO were concentrated in the German outpost while London remained the chief liaison conduit. This was of particular importance to SI/London, which was primarily engaged in maintaining its link with SIS. SI/London’s Reports and Registry section strengthened the efficiency of liaison and intelligence exchanges with Broadway’s Special Liaison Control Section at the end of 1944, thus improving the flow of mutual queries and comments.109 It was explicitly noted by midJanuary 1945 that ‘Broadway’s policy in giving [SI] political intelligence appear [ed] liberal’. Maintaining this exchange was one of OSS/London’s vital tasks, especially since SIS was one of the few good sources of German political material.110 The intelligence exchange stayed ‘greatly to [SI’s] advantage’ throughout the rest of January, with ‘[m]ore frequent meetings between Broadway and OSS’ planned by the end of February.111 Fourteen Broadway reports were received on Russian Air Force matters during both February and March, although military and economic reports dropped.112 SI suspected that SIS

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was holding out on its military (not political) reporting from Germany during the March–April period, but as indicated in Chapter 7, this was due to the paucity of Broadway’s sources in Germany, not non-cooperation.113 What Broadway did circulate was still instructive: 23 Balkan political reports, with ‘19 Greek items being of particular interest’.114 With war’s end, SI’s customer list was ‘cut drastically’, but still included the various American embassies in Europe.115 By June 1945, SI/London was primarily involved in establishing an Economic Intelligence Desk tasked with producing and developing ‘clandestine methods of intelligence on all matters dealing with the concealment and flight of enemy held capital’ for posthostilities Nazi activities, code-named SAFE HAVEN; SAFE HAVEN counterintelligence matters were X-2’s preserve.116 As OSS commenced liquidation throughout Europe, SIS was still keen to maintain the flow of information with SI/London: Broadway especially ‘requested assurance that OSS would continue as an intelligence agency’; SIS moreover ‘evidenced particular interest in intelligence reports on Russia’, for reasons that are by now self-evident.117 SI/ London’s Reports and Registry Section was accordingly orientated toward being ‘chiefly an intelligence relay center’, with its original report processing minimalized. Such an internal set-up was considered ‘as good an arrangement as [could] presently be worked out to meet the attitude of Broadway’.118 This was a significant factor given OSS/London’s view that its Broadway connection was ‘important as a contact between the American and British Governments on a plane not duplicated by any other American agency’.119 After the London mission was renamed OSS/Great Britain on 12 July 1945, the flow of Broadway intelligence increased as SI was better able to develop the ‘procedures…to give these materials the special handling’ required for their dissemination outside SI.120 By month’s end, SI had received 62 reports from SIS (18 more than during June), half of which concerned Greece and Yugoslavia. For its part, ‘Broadway’s interest in OSS reports continue[d] to center in Russian activities in the Balkans and Near East’.121 British goals were thus obvious: to receive, and draw attention to, as much information as possible concerning those areas of evolving strategic import to Britain relative to Russia. By August, SI’s liaison with SIS enabled it to ‘[d]isseminate the information received from the above source to the Commanding General, US F[orces]E[uropean] T[heater], the US Embassy [London], the [rest of] OSS, and other authorized US Government departments and agencies’. It was stressed that a ‘close relationship [had] been established with…SIS, which [had] been and [would] continue to be productive of valuable results’.122 Notably, the ‘Broadway political reports [were] now being gotten up by the London office in disseminations for top American customers in Europe’, including the US Embassy in London and other OSS missions in Europe. Such reports had not until then been available for such reuse by SI, and their content indicates the reason for the change of policy: out of 76 Broadway reports, 34 were on Russia, and 15 on the Balkans, with report S-716 revealing ‘the Turkish President’s reaction to Russian demands’ (London found

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out in September that OSS/Cairo and OSS/Athens were also receiving British reports on the Near East and Greece).123 OSS was in fact the only American channel for receipt of general SIS political reports and LAMDA (apparently economic) material concerning Europe, and considered Broadway’s Most Secret Political series as being reports of recognized high calibre, valuable both for substantive information and as disclosing intelligence supplied by British Service to FO and Service Departments, and thus providing base for deductions as to British FO intentions. Arrangements now work out to make these available to top US officials London[,] Washington and other posts.124 This ‘increase in the type and quantity’ of Broadway reports constituted SI’s chief activity in combination with ‘an effort to establish closer relations with the [US] Ambassador’ in London. OSS/Great Britain’s chief, Colonel John A. Bross, accordingly ‘took a selective group of Broadway political reports to the Ambassador personally with a view to familiarizing him as much as possible with the important material available’ to the mission.125 The establishment of ‘closer working relations with the Embassy [was] achieved’ as SI’s circulation of SIS political reports began in earnest, just as OSS faced disbandment.126 During September, SI submitted daily reports to the American Delegation to the Council of Foreign Ministers as Broadway’s reports had increased in ‘importance, variety, and volume. This intelligence was ascribed a high value as it emanated, in most cases, directly from the countries concerned rather than from emigre circles in the United Kingdom.’ All told, SI ‘servicing of the Embassy was maintained in the customary way with material of special interest being routed directly to the Ambassador’.127 X-2 was similarly tasked in relation to counter-intelligence matters, the significance of which is obvious given the emerging evidence of Russian espionage noted earlier: X-2 London serves as American counterpart to counter-intelligence section MI-6. Sole channel obtain British CI material relative outside Western Hemisphere for use American armies, State Department and authorized American agencies. By British rule certain categories info obtainable only by maintenance liaison at British HQ London…. [X-2] also operates and controls CI War Room, formerly SHAEF [see Chapter 7], with British special services for benefit [military CI] staffs Germany and Austria…[A] ssurance complete acquisition for American use of all CI records in British and French zones of occupation. Serves American Embassy and Attaches on special request.128 X-2’s reciprocal exchange with MI6(V) was itself a function of the British assumption that they were dealing with a permanent opposite number ‘parallel in character to themselves’.129 The September 1945 defection of Igor Gouzenko in

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Ottawa, his information on Soviet intelligence ciphers, and their role in revealing further intelligence on Russian espionage (codenamed VENONA) would later provide a significant amount of CI material for exchange by this reliable route.130 The end of OSS did not signal any change in these developments. The final report from OSS/Great Britain explicitly noted that [d]espite the uncertainty as to the immediate future of OSS and the form of any successor organization, representatives of this Mission, in their dealings with SIS, have continued to express their confidence that a successor organization was in process of formation which would take over the functions and probably some of the existing personnel of OSS as it is presently constituted. The situation was explained…to Commander Arnold Foster, in an off-the-record conversation[,] and ‘C’ was informed of the content of Mr Cheston’s cable explaining the incorporation of OSS into the War Department as an agency directly responsible to the assistant Secretary of War.131 Enter the Strategic Services Unit. Under the direction of Brigadier-General John Magruder (formerly OSS Deputy-Director of Intelligence), and without definite guarantees concerning its future, SSU preserved those parts of OSS with potential utility for a future permanent intelligence service, notably SI and X-2.132 Continuing the SIS intelligence exchanges was therefore a top priority of SSU/Great Britain’s small SI and X-2 staff. With the transition from OSS to SSU, there was a well-established procedure in place for disseminating Broadway political reports to the American Embassy in London, and to the SSU missions in Paris, Germany, Salzburg, Rome, and Cairo for further distribution to their military and diplomatic customers, all under the cryptonym WARWICK/ COVENTRY. WARWICK/COVENTRY reports were given modified introductions to avoid disclosing SIS as the source, and to remove SSU one step from Broadway’s informants. Distribution was strictly limited: five to seven copies went to London consumers, including the Ambassador and Embassy Counsellor, both of whom were personally briefed on the meaning of the WARWICK/COVENTRY cryptonym; ten copies went to the American Zone in Germany, including General Lucius Clay (the Commanding General), his chief of intelligence, the G-2 and G-3 of American forces in Europe, and the American Ambassador (all but the G-3 were briefed on the cryptonym); and six copies went to Paris for the French, Dutch, and Belgian US Embassies.133 This procedure was then disrupted throughout October-December 1945. SSU continued to receive high-quality Broadway reports—especially LAMDA economic reports, as well as November material on Russia and its activities in the Near East (the latter were courtesy of Broadway’s regional Inter-Services Liaison Department [ISLD]), and increasing December coverage ‘of Turkey and Soviet-Turkish relations…by a source whose judgement and information [was] regarded by Broadway as very reliable’—but SI could not give them external dissemination

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except in very special instances.134 This restriction evidently reflected Broadway’s concern for SSU’s continued existence, but by December, SIS said they would assume SSU’s continuation.135 X-2 for its part was still disseminating CI reports to the State Department concerning Soviet activity in Greece, while ‘Russian activities in Iran continue[d] to occupy [X-2’s] attention’, despite X-2 lacking a representative in Persia itself.136 The significance of the WARWICK/COVENTRY material may be gauged by Brigadier-General Magruder’s dissemination of some May– October 1945 reports to the US service intelligence chiefs in December.137 When G-2 insisted on receiving these reports without restriction, Magruder promptly replied with details of their sensitivity.138 Magruder indicated the importance of these reports to SSU when he stated that ‘this information was obtained under very particular conditions, not of [SSU’s] making, which severely restricted] dissemination to specified recipients at a very high level’. In order to ‘maintain available this source [G-2] should appreciate the importance of handling this material with the degree of caution consistent with our obligations to [the] source’. Their comprehensive significance was further revealed by the headings under which they were listed: Naval—Russian Fleets, Order of Battle, Naval Training Establishments; Shipping and Waterways—Routes, Waterways, Ports, Shipbuilding, Merchant Shipping; Military—Key Personnel of First Battle Front, Troop Movements; Economic—Power Stations, Engineering Works; Aviation— Production; Miscellaneous—Political-Economic.139 G-2 was eventually satisfied, and Naval Intelligence expressed its particular appreciation for the data.140 SSU followed this up in January 1946 with order of battle information on Russian armoured units ‘from the secret intelligence agency of a foreign country…in a peculiarly favourable situation for obtaining such information’, and a report on Russia and the Baltic ‘from a source rated high because of the critical evaluation applied by this [foreign, i.e. British] agency to its own reports’.141 The military import of this selection disseminated to Washington was significant at a time when the US JIC was seeking to ensure its receipt of such data (noted earlier). The US Army’s G-2 confirmed this when he expressed how he ‘greatly appreciated’ the information on Russian armoured units, and stressed his desire to receive any similar intelligence SSU could obtain.142 A further factor concerning the attractiveness of British reports involved the superior reach of British intelligence at a time when SSU was unable to conduct intelligence collection operations on Broadway’s scale. OSS had particularly noted the effective functioning of British intelligence in Persia as early as June 1945. ISLD apparently used numerous ‘friends and sympathizers among the land owning and merchant class as well as a large body of pensioners, hangers-on and poorer people who [had] received benefits from them’. Moslem hostility to Russian anti-religious attitudes may also have been a factor in fostering sufficient cooperation with ISLD.143 Even more important was British SIGINTs potential: at a GHQ Middle East conference held on 11 June 1946, the Brigadier

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General Staff (Intelligence) noted that ‘Arabic ciphers [could] be broken locally; Russian ciphers [were] dealt with in London’, the new home for GCHQ. This source would have revealed much of the information SSU received from Broadway, especially on order of battle, troop movements, logistics, and depending on the ciphers broken, political-diplomatic material as well.144 With such sources available to SIS, it was fortuitous that SSU/Great Britain’s ability to circulate Broadway reports among its American customers resumed in January 1946. SSU disseminated Broadway reports on Turkey to the US Embassy in London, stating explicitly that they ‘came from an experienced observer, [and would] merit [the Embassy’s] special attention’.145 For its part, SSU told the American Ambassador to Britain that it did ‘not regard it as a mere accident’ that such political information had reached them ‘with a remarkable degree of consistency. It [was], after all, presumed by [their] British opposite number [i.e., SIS] that this information [would] ultimately reach the proper quarters in the American Government.’146 Broadway reports on Russian interest in Greek affairs, conditions in Lithuania, and Turko-Russian relations then followed.147 By February, the prospect of exchanging SAFE HAVEN material with SIS was explored as past experience indicated that the FO’s Economic Division was ‘very keen on this type of information’, and SSU hoped that this would secure even more Broadway material.148 SSU-SIS relations ‘on the working level continue[d] on the best of terms’ throughout March, and Broadway’s allowance ‘for a fairly liberal exchange of questions as to given subjects and areas’ was particularly appreciated. It was further hoped that an increase in American intelligence to Britain would allow SSU to press for even more British reports.149 There was evidently no lack of American enthusiasm for Broadway’s product, and the quality and quantity of reports exchanged with SIS during April improved. X-2 was increasing its CI disseminations at this time by about 10 per cent over February (X-2 also operated by early March 1946 its own ‘clandestine link into Russia through a White Russian group which worked for the Germans’).150 SSU further noted in May that America’s delegation to the April Paris Conference of Foreign Ministers had been ‘entirely dependent on SSU for the type of information procured by clandestine means which [it] had been able to provide’.151 The level of exchanges with SIS continued at a similar pace throughout the summer. SSU’s June collection of Broadway reports totalled 145, while those for July numbered 279.152 By September, SSU conceded its complete reliance on a dozen ISLD reports for intelligence on Persia given the lack of SSU sources there, and noted that only one SSU man remained in Turkey.153 The cumulative effects of these intelligence acquisitions were very real. For one thing, British reports helped erode the American reticence to address intelligence on Russia. One frustrated SSU officer noted in March 1946 that the ‘fear to deal openly with the Russian question [had] permeated down to all levels of the government to a degree that it [was] …considered poor taste and an infraction of some ephemeral rule to speak out specifically or concretely on

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matters dealing with Russia’. Despite the desperation of American consumers ‘for information, any information, concerning Russian activities, they [had] at the same time clothed their requests for this information in the garb of unofficial or “personal” queries’.154 These attitudes changed as events unfolded over spring 1946 given America’s growing realization of Russia’s challenge to the status quo post bellum—especially in Persia—culminating with a hardening American attitude toward Russia in February, and Winston Churchill’s freelance call for Anglo-American unity of interest against Russia’s unfolding ‘Iron Curtain’ at Fulton, Missouri on 5 March.155 Fraser Harbutt credits Truman’s interactions with Churchill in early February as the pivot of America’s reorientation before the overt diplomatic confrontation over Russia’s grasping for Persia at the end of March. He gives particular emphasis to the effect of Churchill’s Fulton oratory on American public opinion and Josef Stalin in equal measure.156 These events were doubtless explicit realizations of America’s entry into the cold war as Russia backed down and evacuated Persia, but it must be conceded that the empirical basis for the change in US policy was clearly influenced by the months of hard British intelligence on Russian activities in the main Near Eastern areas of concern obtained through the US JIC in Washington, and OSS/SSU in London. Truman entered the Oval Office relying more on the State Department than his predecessor, and what Bruce Kuniholm terms the inadvertent education of the State Department by British influence thus had a crucial intelligence component as detailed above.157 Indeed, it has already been seen how SSU explicitly noted the State Department’s reliance on its intelligence of British origin during the April 1946 Paris Council of Foreign Ministers, during which America diplomatically held firm against Russia over Persia.158 By May, the Foreign Office was also able to note with pardonable satisfaction that ‘Mr Byrnes has sounder views on Turkey than he had some months ago’, and that the Americans ‘were now fully alive to [the] importance of Turkey’s position and their interest in Turkey was real and would be maintained’; combined with his new grasp of Communism in Greece, one FO official concluded that Byrnes was ‘looking up all round’.159 It is therefore plainly evident that the British had, within the space of a year, helped convince America of the reality of Soviet adventurism, and the unity of interest between the two western powers. The FO’s faith in the ‘logic of hard fact’, continuously provided in the form of SIS intelligence reports, had been borne out. This interpretation directly contradicts that popularized by Daniel Yergin concerning the basis of America’s reaction to Soviet post-war foreign policy. Yergin envisages American perceptions dominated by a set of ‘Riga axioms’ erroneously characterizing the USSR as an expansionist hostile power. Combined with an inflexible doctrine of ‘national security’, the institutions of a ‘National Security State’ then emerged to elevate military confrontation over diplomacy.160 The reality of Britain’s first cold war, and the evolution of America’s response in the face of objective fact, clearly offers a sounder conceptualization of both the genesis of America’s confrontation with Stalin, and

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the origins of post-war US intelligence. This reality moreover complements Melvyn Leffler’s conception of a Truman presidency independently motivated by fears and uncertainty concerning American security and relative power to confront Russia. Leffler credits Truman and his high policy advisers with a prompt and distinctly American reaction to the emerging global Russian threat.161 Leffler’s portrait of realistic, prudent men shedding Rooseveltian optimism while responding to an imminent challenge to American power is convincing, but it defines this response as being largely intuitive. It is in fact more likely that such men were particularly open to hard proof of Russia’s challenge to the postwar order, with British intelligence ultimately confirming the Truman administration’s budding unease with Russia, and defining the ensuing rivalry with Stalin in terms that reflected both British and American concerns, not America’s alone. Anglo-American intelligence relations had thus turned full circle back to the point where the American mission in London was primarily involved with obtaining British reports on matters of mutual strategic import which SI could not as yet cover—mirroring the early days of OSS/London (see Chapters 2–3). This was significant as Americaa’s intelligence capacity evolved into the Central Intelligence Agency in preparation for waging the cold war. After Truman dissolved OSS, the War Department pursued the question of establishing a permanent modern US intelligence system. This would encompass the JIC’s strategic assessment function, and SSU’s intelligence collection role. After some study, it endorsed the basic JCS proposal for a National Intelligence Authority overseeing a Central Intelligence Agency, with SSU transferred to that agency as the repository of America’s existing capacity for intelligence collection and counter-intelligence.162 The Bureau of the Budget drafted an elaborate rival plan under the uncertain auspices of the State Department in November, but by December, Truman lost his patience with the whole matter.163 Truman then personally reviewed the competing State-JCS plans on 27 December, ‘decided emphatically in favour of the JCS plan’, and ordered its execution.164 A National Intelligence Authority was then established and directed by Truman to create an inter-departmental Central Intelligence Group consisting of various State, War, and Navy components under a Director of Central Intelligence pending the necessary legislation to create a Central Intelligence Agency.165 SSU’s intelligence/counter-intelligence functions were then transferred to CIG on 2 April, which broadly ran SSU through the War Department while SSU/Great Britain continued to receive Broadway reports for dissemination to American consumers as indicated above.166 The US JIC also formed an Intelligence Advisory Board (IAB) for overseeing the processes of intelligence estimates and intelligence direction, but IAB and CIG eventually gave way to a Central Intelligence Agency finally combining the elements of strategic assessment, intelligence collection, and overseas counter-intelligence on 26 July 1947.167 This particularly American conception of intelligence had ultimately grown out of the largely accidental situation whereby the US JIC exercised an interim

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strategic assessment function, and SSU preserved an intelligence gathering capacity that had shown its worth by liaising with SIS. The value of SSU’s intelligence acquisitions spoke volumes about the relevance of such sources to America’s post-war statecraft, and this more than William Donovan’s aggressive lobbying helped secure a place for professional intelligence-gathering in the eyes of the US government and military. Moreover, as America joined Britain in the cold war, American intelligence was firmly bound to its British counterpart in what would be a central component of the North Atlantic alliance over the next five decades, continuing a partnership conceived in London during 1941. In a world where Great Power confrontation had potentially catastrophic consequences, the cold war’s intelligence dimension gave Britain a strong role in confronting Russia, and a secure place in the western alliance that belied its otherwise weak resources. The Anglo-American intelligence relationship had thus played some part in preparing America to be a superpower, and in cushioning the effects of Britain’s decline. NOTES 1. See Eden to Churchill, 23 November 1944, CAB 79/83; COS (45), 190th Mtg, Minute 2, 2 August 1945, CAB 79/37; JP (45) 235 (S) (T of R), 2 September 1945, CAB 84/75; COS (45) 263rd Mtg, Minute 3, regarding COS (45) 638 (O), 31 October 1945, CAB 79/41; JP (45) 304 (S) (T of R), 5 December 1945, CAB 84/77; all in PRO. 2. Jackson report, ‘British Intelligence System’, Donovan Papers, USAMHI, pp. 11 n. 4, 18–19, 40 (on GCHQ successes credited to SIS), 49, (on JIB). 3. Draft Question and Answer, attached to Chancellor of the Exchequer to Prime Minister, 8 June 1945, and Churchill’s reply in Churchill to Chancellor of the Exchequer, 11 June 1945, all in PREM 4/1619, PRO. 4. See JIC (45) 293 (Final), ‘Manpower Requirements for Post-War Intelligence Organisations’, 13 October 1945, CAB 79/40, PRO. 5. Jackson, ‘British Intelligence System’, pp. 62–4. 6. Ibid. 7. Evill Report, COS (47) 231 (O), 8 November 1947, quoted and commented on in ‘Intelligence Organisation’, 5 July 1950, prepared on instructions of the Ministry of Defence to the COS, DEFE 11/349, PRO. 8. Donovan to President, 18 November 1944, covering letter dated 23 February 1945, frames 398–404, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 9. Suspicions of JCS in Donovan to President, 23 February 1945, frames 405–6, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see the Memorandum for the Record by Thomas Troy on his telephone conversation with former high-ranking FBI official William C. Sullivan, 23 December 1974 (misdated 1954), Folder 56, Box 7, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA—Sullivan states that the FBI leaked the Donovan memo, and that Trohan pliantly published it according to FBI wishes given compromising information about his son in the FBI’s possession.

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10. Donovan to JCS, 15 February 1945, frames 409–13, and Donovan to JCS, 22 February 1945, frames 407–8, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 11. Donovan to Truman, 13 September 1945, frame 455, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 12. See also Leonard Mosley, Dulles: A Biography of Eleanor, Allen, and John Foster Dulles and Their Family Network (New York: The Dial Press, 1978), p. 295. 13. Magruder to Donovan, 1 October 1943, Folder 35, Box 5, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA; Magruder comment to Rogers dated 30 November 1943, in Troy (ed.), Wartime Washington, p. 184; (cf. Col E.F.Connoly to Donovan, 23 November 1944, frames 1271–3, Reel 77, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA, suggesting placing the various branches under staff officers (D-1 to D-5) responsible for personnel, intelligence, operations, services, and communications. 14. Donovan to Magruder, 3 April 1944, Folder 35, Box 5, Troy Papers, RG 263, NARA. 15. Rogers diary entry for 8 June 1943, Troy (ed.), Wartime Washington, p. 107; Bruce comment from Stanley P.Lovell, Of Spies and Stratagems (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1963), p. 19—see also p. 177. 16. Antipathy, Cave Brown, Last Hero, pp. 791–3; bureaucratic standing, Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones, CIA, p. 250; see also Danny D.Jansen and Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones, The Missouri Gang and the CIA’, in Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones and Andrew Lownie (eds), North American Spies: New Revisionist Essays (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1991), pp. 124, 127–9. 17. Bradley F.Smith, ‘A Note on the OSS, Ultra, and World War II’s Intelligence Legacy for America’, Defense Analysis 3, 2 (June 1987), pp. 186–8, citing Truman to the Secretaries of State, War, and Navy held in the Harry S.Truman Presidential Library; see also Bradley F.Smith, ‘The OSS and Record Group 226: Some Perspectives and Prospects’, in Chalou (ed.), Secrets, pp. 364–6, and B.F.Smith, Ultra-Magic, pp. 211–14, where Smith stresses the cost-effectiveness of SIGINT while ignoring the question of coordinated strategic assessments, which lay at the heart of the post-war intelligence debate; see also Christopher Andrew, ‘The Growth of the Australian Intelligence Community and the Anglo-American Connection’, Intelligence and National Security 4, 2 (April 1989), p. 223. 18. Ludwell Lee Montague MS, ‘General Walter Bedell Smith as Director of Central Intelligence’, I, pp. iv, 36–42, RG 263, NARA; on the US JIC, see also JIC 76/4, ‘Revision of the JIC Charter,’ 23 February 1944, frames 758–76, Reel 12, Entry 95; JCS 85/1/D, ‘JIS Charter’, 26 May 1944, frames 222–4, Reel 5, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 19. Ludwell Montague, Memorandum for the Record, 1 December 1969, on ‘Intelligence Service, 1940–1950’, with attached appendix of recollections, pp. 19– 27, Folder HS/HC 401, Box 2, History Source Collection of the CIA Historical Staff, RG 263, NARA. 20. Ibid., and Montague MS, ‘Smith’. 21. Montague MS, ‘Smith’, p. 41; see also Henry L.Stimson, and McGeorge Bundy, On Active Service in Peace and War (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1948), p. 455. 22. Montague MS, ‘Smith’, pp. 1, 41. 23. Donovan to Truman, 13 September 1945, frame 455, and Donovan to JCS, 13 September 1945, frame 456; Donovan to Harold D.Smith, Director, Bureau of the

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24. 25. 26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

Budget, 13 September 1945, frames 458–9 (including the claim of British imitation of OSS); all in Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also William H.Jackson to James Forrestal, 14 November 1945, Folder HS/HC 400, Box 2, History Source Collection of the CIA History Staff, RG 263, NARA. Bamford, Palace, pp. 68–81. See for example B.F.Smith, Ultra-Magic, pp. 219, 225, 227; Andrew, Secret Service, p. 492. IRIS, Troy, Donovan, pp. 302, 337; R&A Monthly Report to the Outposts 1–30 September 1945, 5 ‘September’ [read October] 1945, Folder ‘Miscellaneous Outpost Stuff, Box 2, Entry 39, RG 226, NARA; see below, n. 31, on SO. ‘OSS Functions in Germany’, attached to Col Forgan to Brig.-Gen. Cornelius Wickersham, 11 August 1944, Folder 347, Box 225, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also Maj.-Gen. J.F.M.Whiteley, ACoS G-2 SHAEF, to Maj.-Gen. J.A.Sinclair, DMI, WO 219/1667, PRO concerning proposals for security in Germany, and including the views of ‘C’ and MI5’s Director-General, Sir David Petrie. JCS 1035, 6 September 1944, frames 321–3, Reel 5; ‘Overall and Special Programs for Strategic Services Activities in the European Theater of Operations PostHostilities Period’, 26 February 1945, Folder 153, Box 212—see also Tab A, JPS 610 D, frames 387–402, Reel 5, and MO to SI, ‘The Importance of Countermeasures against German “Black” during the Period of Occupation’, Folder 253, Box 221; all in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. ‘Over-All and Special Programs for Strategic Services Activities in Germany during the Occupation Period’, 14 August 1945, frames 348–56—see also organization of OSS/Germany c. June 1945, frame 443; both in Reel 132, Entry 116; ‘Proposal for OSS Unit in Germany’, 1 May 1945, Folder 2077, Box 120, Entry 148; all in RG 226, NARA. See the SHAEF JIC reports over April-May 1945 in frames 617–29, 648–57, Reel 15, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also James Lucas, Kommando: German Special Forces of World War Two (London: Grafton, 1986), pp. 284–312. ‘Special Operations Program for Germany’, 10 December 1944, Folder 61, Box 220, Entry 92; SO Branch Progress Report for 1–30 June 1945, dated 26 June 1945, Folder 14, Box 6, and SO Branch Progress Report for 1–31 August 1945, dated 1 September 1945, Folder 28, Box 7, both in Entry 99; X-2 vs. SO plan in N.H. Pearson to F.O.Canfield, 30 October 1944, Folder 1, Box 50, Entry 115; all in RG 226, NARA. R&A/Germany Progress Report, 1–31 August 1945, dated 1 September 1945, Folder ‘Germany’, Box 16, Entry 1, RG 226, NARA; ‘scrutinized’, ‘CounterIntelligence Directive, Pre-Surrender Period, Germany’, 16 September 1944, WO 208/4421, PRO; see also the disjointed memoir of an OSS member detailed to collecting such ‘White-listed’ Germans in Edward L.Field, Retreat to Victory: A Previously Untold OSS Operation (Surfside Beach, SC: EDMA Historical Publishers, 1991), and the negative review by Nelson MacPherson in Intelligence and National Security 7, 4 (October 1992), pp. 500–2. OSS Planning Group: ‘Over-all and Special Programs for Strategic Services in the European Theater, Post-Hostilities’, 12 October 1944, Folder 2, Box 86, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Sibert, OSS Detachment to 12th AG Weekly Report, 10 April 1945, Folder 12, Box 5; ‘war-time strength’, OSS/ETO Covering Report, 5 June 1945, Folder 13, Box 6;

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35. 36.

37. 38.

39.

40.

41. 42.

43. 44. 45.

46.

‘exterminating’, OSS Activities Report for May 1945, Folder 127a, Box 95; all in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. OSS Activities Report for May 1945. X-2 Branch Monthly Report for July 1945, Folder 108, Box 91; see also OSS Activities Report for June 1945, Folder 128, Box 95, which is unsure whether these organizations were GIS under Communist cover or vice versa; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. Cooperation with the Russians from OSS Activities Report for July 1945, Folder 129, Box 95, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. OSS Mission for Germany Progress Report for August 1945, Folder 17, Box 6; also in the OSS Activities Report for August 1945, Folder 130, Box 95; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. OSS Mission for Germany Progress Report for September, Folder 17, Box 6; see also OSS Activities Report for September 1945, Folder 131, Box 95; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. X-2 Branch Monthly Report for August 1945, Folder 109, Box 91, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA; on Philby, see Christopher Andrew and Oleg Gordievsky, KGB: The Inside Story (New York: Harper Perennial, 1991), pp. 295–6; and Cecil, ‘Five’, pp. 351–2. Digest of State Department Cables, 15 March 1943, Folder 26, Box 2, Entry 145, RG 226, NARA. R&A/London comments on ‘Three Power cooperation and the Occupation of Germany’, c. September 1944—see also comments by Franz L.Neumann to Chandler Morse for Sweezy, 21 September 1944, Emile Depres to Morse for Sweezy, 22 September 1944, the more negative comments of J.A.Morrison to William Langer, 18 September 1944; all in Folder ‘London II’, Box 18, Entry 1, RG 226, NARA; for some FO reaction to an OSS/Washington report on post-war Russian capabilities and intentions; one official said that ‘In general, the paper is written with an air of authority which may be very misleading… I cannot believe that all the positive statements made…could be proved. I think they are good guesses; but I doubt they are much more than that’; another wrote that ‘It is too optimistic and too doctrinaire, but none the less a very good piece of work. From p. 56 onwards it is pure speculation and at times unduly verbose[;] economics section is worth reading’; see the minutes dated 15, 16, and 25 June 1945 in FO 371/ 47883, N8125/165/G, PRO. Schorske to Morse for Arthur Schlesinger, 21 September 1944, Folder ‘London Letters Out, 1/8/44–30/9/44’, Box 4, Entry 52, RG 226, NARA. Quinn Shaughnessy to Donovan through Bruce, 8 September 1944, Folder 783, Box 255, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also Katz, Foreign, pp. 124–8, 149–64. Robert Beitzell, The Uneasy Alliance: America, Britain, and Russia, 1941–1943 (New York: Alfred A.Knopf, 1972), p. 384; see also Norman A.Graebner, America as a World Power: A Realist Appraisal from Wilson to Reagan (Wilmington: Scholarly Resources Inc., 1984), pp. 87–8. Cordell Hull, Memoirs, Vol. II (New York: Macmillan, 1948), pp. 1109–10; see also Julius W.Pratt, The American Secretaries of State and Their Diplomacy, Vol. XIII: Cordell Hull, 1933–44 (New York: Cooper Square, 1964), pp. 532–3; on free trade influences on modern American policy, see David P. Calleo and Benjamin M. Rowland, America and the World Political Economy: Atlantic Dreams and

AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON 223

48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

54.

National Realities (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1973), pp. 3, 17, 35–7; see also Gier Lundestad, ‘Moralism, Presentism, Exceptionalism, Provincialism, and Other Extravagancies in American Writings on the Early Cold War Years’, Diplomatic History 13, 4 (Fall 1989), pp. 527–45; cf. Gabriel Kolko, The Politics of War: The World and United States Foreign Policy, 1943–1945 (New York: Random House, 1968), passim, part of the revisionist school of Cold War historiography with its portrait of predatory American capitalism as the driving force behind US diplomacy in the closing phase of the war; see also the more recent work of Randall Bennett Woods, A Changing of the Guard: Anglo-American Relations, 1941–1946 (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1990), especially pp. 1–32, 244–300, 397–407. See William R.Emerson, ‘FDR (1941–1945)’, in Ernest R.May (ed.), The Ultimate Decision: The President as Commander in Chief (New York: George Braziller, 1960), pp. 170–1, 176; see also Richard Leopold, The Growth of American Foreign Policy: A History (New York: Alfred A.Knopf, 1967), p. 608. Sainsbury, Turning, pp. 1, 20, 217–18, 228–33, 238–9, 245, 257, 299, 307; see also Gaddis Smith, American Diplomacy during the Second World War, 1941– 1945 (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1966), p. 71; for a narrative of the various wartime conferences and Big Three diplomacy, see Feis, Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin, passim-, see also D.C.Watt, ‘Britain and the Historiography of the Yalta Conference and the Cold War’, Diplomatic History 13, 1 (Winter 1989), pp. 67– 98. Turner, Unique, pp. 96–8; see also Robert Garson, ‘The Atlantic Alliance, Eastern Europe and the Origins of the Cold War: From Pearl Harbor to Yalta’, in H.C.Allen and Roger Thompson (eds), Contrast and Connection: Bicentennial Essays in Anglo-American History (London: G.Bell and Sons, 1976), pp. 298–9. Kenneth Strong, Intelligence at the Top: The Recollections of an Intelligence Officer (London: Cassell, 1968), p. 218; see also Leopold, Growth, p. 607, and Hathaway, Ambiguous, pp. 4–6. Emerson, ‘FDR’, pp. 176–7; see also Beitzell, Uneasy, p. 384; Ernest R.May, ‘An American Tradition in Foreign Policy: The Role of Public Opinion’, in William H. Nelson, with Francis L.Lowenheim (eds), Theory and Practice in American Politics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), p. 122; Richard W.Steele, The Pulse of the People. Franklin D.Roosevelt and the Gauging of American Public Opinion’, Journal of Contemporary History 9, 4 (October 1974), p. 195; Gordon A.Craig, ‘The Political Leader as Strategist’, in Peter Paret (ed.), Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), pp. 507–8; George F.Kennan, Memoirs, 1925–1950 (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1967), pp. 214–15, also characterizes Roosevelt’s policy concerning eastern Europe toward the end of the war as having ‘basic elements of… unrealism’. See Samuel P.Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1959), p. 344; cf. Warren F.Kimball, The Juggler: Franklin Roosevelt as Wartime Statesman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), p. 17. Graebner, America, p. 105.

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55. Quotation from Frederick W.Marks III, Wind Over Sand: The Diplomacy of Franklin Roosevelt (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1988), p. 169; see also W.Averell Harriman and Elie Abel, Special Envoy to Churchill and Stalin, 1941–1946 (New York: Random House, 1975), pp. 170, 216; cf. with Kimball, Juggler, pp. 100–1; for a positive appraisal of Roosevelt’s idealistic, rather than naive, approach see Willard Range, Franklin D.Roosevelt’s World Order (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1959), pp. xii, 18, 27–8, 31, 76, 102–19, 192, 195, 197–8; cf. Gaddis Smith, American, pp. 177–8. 56. This episode is recorded in both Thomas M.Campbell and George C.Herring (eds), The Diaries of Edward R. Stettinius, Jr., 1943–1946 (New York: New Viewpoints, 1975), p. 40, and David Dilks (ed.), The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan, OM, 1938–1945 (New York: G.P.Putnam’s Sons, 1972), p. 578; see also Kimball, Juggler, pp. 127–57; Watt, Bull, pp. 80–1; Elisabeth Barker, Churchill and Eden at War (London: Macmillan, 1978), pp. 11, 125, 129, 205; Earl Avon, The Eden Memoirs: The Reckoning (London: Cassell, 1965), p. 513. 57. See Isaac Deutscher, Stalin: A Political Biography (Harmondsworth: Penguin, rev. edn 1966), p. 494; Vojtech Mastney, Russia’s Road to the Cold War: Diplomacy, Warfare, and the Politics of Communism, 1941–1945 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979), pp. 124–5; see also John Lewis Gaddis, ‘The Emerging PostRevisionist Synthesis on the Origins of the Cold War’, Diplomatic History 7, 3 (Summer 1983), pp. 171–90 (pp. 175–6 on Mastney); see also Craig, ‘Strategist’, in Paret, Makers, pp. 504, 508–9. 58. Beitzell, Uneasy, pp. 366, 378. 59. Ibid., p. 384; Mastney, Road, pp. 283, 306; see also William Taubman, Stalin’s American Policy: From Entente to Détente to Cold War (New York: W.W.Norton, 1982), pp. 9, 226; see also John Lewis Gaddis, The United States and the Origins of the Cold War, 1941–1947 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), pp. 63– 4; cf. Thomas G. Paterson, On Every Front: The Making of the Cold War (New York: W.W.Norton, 1979), pp. 1–68; Martin McCauley, The Origins of the Cold War (London: Longman, 1983), pp. 49–51; Kimball, Juggler, pp. 83–105. 60. Mastney, Road, pp. 308, 312; see also R.C.Raack, Stalin’s Drive to the West, 1938– 1945: The Origins of the Cold War (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995), pp. 136–68; Garson, ‘Alliance’, pp. 296–300; J.F.C.Fuller, The Conduct of War, 1789–1961: A Study of the Impact of the French, Industrial, and Russian Revolutions on War and its Conduct (London: Methuen, 1972), p. 304; J.F.C.Fuller, The Decisive Battles of the Western World, and their Influence upon History, Volume Two, 1792–1944, John Terraine (ed.) (London: Grenada, 1982), pp. 531, 534–9, 586; Halford J.Mackinder, Democratic Ideals and Reality, Anthony J.Pearce (ed.) (New York: W.W.Norton, 1962), pp. 62, 75, 78–9, 150; Nicholas J.Spykman, The Geography of the Peace (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1944), pp. 38, 41, 43; Jonathan Haslam, ‘Stalin’s Fears of a Separate Peace, 1942’, Intelligence and National Security 8, 4 (October 1993), p. 99, suggests that the interpretation and quality of intelligence emanating from the Cambridge Five spy ring was insufficient to influence Stalin’s perceptions and policy choices; cf. Vladislav Zubok and Constantine Pleshakov, Inside the Kremlin’s Cold War: From Stalin to Khrushchev (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), pp. 36– 53, 91–4, 121–3, 126–8.

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61. Fraser J.Harbutt, The Iron Curtain: Churchill, America, and the Origins of the Cold War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. xiv, 266, 280–5; see also Avon, Memoirs, p. 513, and Michael F.Hopkins, ‘A British Cold War?’, Intelligence and National Security 7, 4 (October 1992), pp. 479–82; see also Terry H.Anderson, The United States, Great Britain, and the Cold War, 1944–1947 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1981); Hugh Thomas, Armed Truce: The Beginnings of the Cold War, 1945–46 (New York: Atheneum, 1987), and the review essay by Fraser J.Harbutt, ‘Cold War Origins: An Anglo-European Perspective’, Diplomatic History 13, 1 (Winter 1989), pp. 123–33; on Hart’s book, see the review essay by J.Samuel Walker, ‘The Beginnings of the Cold War: PrizeWinning Perspectives’, Diplomatic History 12, 1 (Winter 1988), pp. 95–101; see also Curtis Keeble, Britain, the Soviet Union and Russia (London: Macmillan, 2000), pp. 206–15. 62. PHP (43) 1 (O) (Preliminary Draft), ‘Effect of Russian Policy on British Interests’, 17 February 1944, FO 371/43384, N1 120/1120/38, PRO. 63. JIC (44) 467 (O) (Final), ‘Russia’s Strategic Interests and Intentions from the Point of View of her Security’, 18 December 1944, FO 371/47860/N678/20/G38, PRO. 64. O.S. Sargent to L.C.Hollis, 22 January 1945, FO 371/47860/N678/20/G, PRO; see also Barker, Churchill, pp. 125, 138. 65. See Barker, Churchill, p. 128. 66. Harbutt, Iron, pp. xiv, 118–22; Bruce R.Kuniholm, The Origins of the Cold War in the Near East: Great Power Conflict and Diplomacy in Iran, Turkey, and Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), pp. xv–xxi, 3–5, 68–72, 125–9, 203– 8, 298–431; cf. Melvyn P.Leffler, A Preponderance of Power: National Security, the Truman Administration, and the Cold War (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1992), pp. x–xi; see also Henry B.Ryan, The Vision of Anglo-America: The US-UK Alliance and the Emerging Cold War, 1943–1946 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987); Ritchie Ovendale, The English-Speaking Alliance: Britain, the United States, the Dominions and the Cold War, 1945–1951 (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1985), pp. 3–58; John Kent, British Imperial Strategy and the Origins of the Cold War, 1944–49 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1993), pp. 1–115; Peter J. Taylor, Britain and the Cold War: 1945 as Geopolitical Transition (London: Pinter, 1990), pp. 3–30, 55–100, 121–33; cf. Daniel Yergin, Shattered Peace: The Origins of the Cold War and the National Security State (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1977), pp. 11–12, 17–105, 138–62, 193–220, 343–65. 67. Cf. Leffler, Power, pp. 496–7. 68. Minute by G.L.McDermott, 26 September 1944, FO 371/44176, R15242/6206/44, PRO. 69. Telegram by Sir M.Peterson (Angora) to FO, 13 March 1945, No. 340, FO 371/ 48773, R4972/4476/44; Telegram by Sir M.Peterson (Angora) to FO, 22 March 1945, No. 377, FO 371/48773, R5 579/447 6/44; both in PRO. 70. On the June 1945 demands on Turkey, JIC (45) 289 (O) (Final), 6 October 1945, FO 371/48775/R18280/4476/G44; on FO assessments of Russian motives, Telegram, FO to TERMINAL for Sir A.Cadogan, 27 July 1945, ONWARD No. 242, CAB 119/86; both in PRO. 71. JIC (45) 237 (O) (Final), 31 July 1945, ‘Developments in South East Europe’; COS (45) 191st Mtg, 3 August 1945; see also COS (45) 186th Mtg, 30 July 1945; all in CAB 119/8 6; both in PRO.

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72. JPS (45) 233 (Final), 4 September 1945, CAB 84/75, PRO. 73. Washington (Mr Balfour) to FO, No. 6047, 6 September 1945, WO 106/3222, PRO. 74. See CP (45) 218, 11 October 1945, ‘Record of Conversation Between the Secretary of State and M. Molotov on the 23rd September, 1945’, CAB 129/3, PRO. 75. See Elisabeth Barker, The British Between the Superpowers, 1945–50 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1983), pp. 31–7; see also Frank K.Roberts, ‘Ernest Bevin as Foreign Secretary’, in Ritchie Ovendale (ed.), The Foreign Policy of the British Labour Governments, 1945–1951 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1984), pp. 33–4; Alan Bullock, Ernest Bevin: Foreign Secretary, 1945–1951 (London: Heinemann, 1983), pp. 129–39, 156–9, 206–39 (which does not really subscribe to the ‘First Cold War’ idea); see also Graham Ross, ‘Foreign Office Attitudes to the Soviet Union, 1941–45’, Journal of Contemporary History 16, 3 (July 1981), pp. 522, 533, 538. 76. JIC (45) 289 (O) (Final); JIC Memorandum for Information 189, ‘Discussion of the Reported Threat to Turkey’, 31 October 1945, frames 460–3, Reel 8, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also the remarks by Maj.-Gen. Francis de Guingand in the Extract from COS (45) 244th Mtg, 9 October 1945, FO 371/48775/R18280/4476/G44, PRO. 77. See the FO Minutes of 30 and 31 October in FO 371/48775/R18280/44768/G44, PRO. 78. JPS (45) 292 (Revised Final), 17 December 1945, ‘Long Term Policy in Greece’; on prospects for US economic aid, see also telegrams Athens to FO, No. 2268, 12 November 1945, and Washington to FO, No. 7535, 10 November 1945; all in CAB 119/87, PRO. 79. Extract of COS (45) 291st Mtg, 31 December 1945, CAB 119/87, PRO. 80. See Edward Ingram, The Beginning of the Great Game in Asia, 1828–1834 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1979), pp. ix–x, 4–5, 12–18, 34, 51–2, 126–7, 180, 182, 221– 2, 328–39; V.G.Kiernan, European Empires from Conquest to Collapse, 1815– 1960 (Bath: Leicester University Press, 1982), pp. 57, 63; on intelligence, see Atherton, Guide, pp. 8, 16–17, as well as HD 2/1, The Great Game—Meshedd, MS by Col. C.S.Maclean, HD 3/70, and HD 3/118, all in PRO. 81. Or on the Americans—see the assessment of Persian oil potential by American officers in Tehran cable No. 36646, 31 July 1944, Folder ‘Most Secret Cables (Not shipping) #9’, Box 3, Entry 5, RG 226, NARA: ‘The foregoing information should be conveyed at once to the two US companies that are interested’, although the ‘British were not informed of this [reconnaissance] trip and [had] not consented to it. The foregoing should not be allowed to reach their ears.’ 82. Cipher Telegram GO 40943, 28 October 1944, WO 106/3093, PRO. 83. Combined Intelligence Centre Iraq and Persia ‘Tribal and Political Review for the Year 1945’, 8 April 1946, WO 208/1571, PRO; on the treaty obligations for troop withdrawals, see also Harbutt, Iron, pp. 142–3. 84. See CICIP Weekly Intelligence Summary No. 232 for the week ending 26 July 1945, WO 208/1569, PRO. 85. CICIP Tribal and Political Intelligence Weekly Summary for the week ending 2 August 1945, WO 208/1570, PRO. 86. CICIP Tribal and Political Intelligence Weekly Summary No. 235 for the week ending 16 August 1945, WO 208/1570, PRO.

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87. Telegram No. 5067 from Sir A.Clark Kerr, 23 November 1945, FO 371/47858, Nl6109/18/38, PRO. 88. Sir R. Bullard to C.W.Baxter, 26 November 1945, FO 371/45487, G.328/43/45, PRO. 89. Minute by L.Pyram (?), 23 December 1945, and Minute by B.Gage, 3 January 1946, both in FO 371/45487, G.328/43/45; note that Murray was confirmed as US Ambassador to Persia on 19 February 1945—see Halifax to London, telegram No. 384, 2 March 1945, FO 371/45487, E1409/530/34; all in PRO; see also Harbutt, Iron, pp. 142–4. 90. Coral Bell, ‘The “Special Relationship”’, in Michael Leifer (ed.), Constraints and Adjustments in British Foreign Policy (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1972), p. 105; see also Watt, Bull, p. 89; R.B.Manderson-Jones, The Special Relationship: Anglo-American Relations and Western European Unity, 1947–56 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972), pp. 130–1, 134; Hathaway, Ambiguous, p. 308; Barker, Between, pp. 217, 308–9; Correlli Barnett, The Collapse of British Power (London: Alan Sutton, 1984), p. 582. 91. Harbutt, Iron, p. xiv; see also David Reynolds, ‘Roosevelt, Churchill, and the Wartime Anglo-American Alliance, 1939–1945: Towards a New Synthesis’, in William Roger Louis and Hedley Bull (eds), The ‘Special Relationship’: AngloAmerican Relations Since 1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. 19– 21, 38–41. 92. On marriage of necessity, see Reynolds, ‘Synthesis’, p. 38; see also David Reynolds, ‘Rethinking Anglo-American relations’, International Affairs 65, 1 (Winter 1988– 1989), pp. 94, 97, 98; on the emerging British dimension of Cold War history, see D.C.Watt, ‘Rethinking the Cold War: A Letter to a British Historian’, Political Quarterly 49, 4 (October–December 1978), pp. 446–6. 93. This dispatch is to be found as J.Balfour for the Ambassador to Bevin, No. 1038, 9 August 1945, CAB 122/1036, and as Halifax to Bevin, No. 16898, 23 August 1945, FO 371/44557, AN 2560/22/45, PRO; see also Victor Rothwell, Britain and the Cold War, 1941–1947 (London: Jonathan Cape, 1982), p. 148. 94. ‘Shrewd/superior power’ quotes from Minute by J.C.Donnelly, 5 September 1945, FO 371/44557, AN 2560/22/45, PRO—on such British attitudes, see also Leon D. Epstein, Britain—Uneasy Ally (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1954), pp. 9, 21–5, 34, and Danchev, Very, pp. 41–2; ‘heartily’ and recommendation for circulation, Minute by P.Mason, 25 January 1946, and approval by Sir Orme Sargent, 30 January 1946, both in FO 371/51627, AN 205/5/45, PRO. 95. Mason Minute. 96. Assumption from Bell, ‘Special’, p. 112; see also John Lewis Gaddis, ‘Intelligence, Espionage, and Cold War Origins’, Diplomatic History 13, 2 (Spring 1989), pp. 191–212, expressing uncertainty as to when a scholarly treatment of post-war intelligence will be possible; D.C.Watt, ‘Intelligence and the Historian: A Comment on John Gaddis’s “Intelligence, Espionage, and Cold War Origins’”, Diplomatic History 14, 2 (Spring 1990), pp. 199–204, suggests using policy records for determining the impact of intelligence. 97. On the US JIC, see Larry A.Valero, ‘An Impressive Record: The American Joint Intelligence Committee and Estimates of the Soviet Union, 1945–1947’, Studies in Intelligence 9 (Summer 2000), pp. 65–80.

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98. JIS 80/2, ‘Capabilities and Intentions of the USSR in the Postwar Period’, 6 January 1945, frames 41–98, Reel 13, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 99. Addendum to JIS 80/2, ‘USSR Postwar Foreign Policy by Regions’, 10 January 1945, frames 144–65, Reel 13, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 100. JIC 250/1, ‘USSR Postwar Capabilities and Policies’, 31 January 1945, frames 4– 96; JIC 250/2, 2 February 1945, frames 127–31; both in Reel 14, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 101. JIS 161, ‘British Capabilities and Intentions’, 10 May 1945, frames 1454–79, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 102. JIC 250/6, ‘Soviet Capabilities’, 29 November 1945, frames 739–69, Reel 2, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 103. JIC 341, ‘Aims and Sequence of Soviet Political and Military Moves’, 31 January 1946, frames 739–69, Reel 2, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 104. JIC 342, ‘British Capabilities Versus the USSR’, 6 February 1946, frames 841–99, Reel 2, Entry 190; cf. the dismissive R&A/Washington analysis of the JIS study upon which this report is based in Joseph Sweeny, Acting Chief, British Unit to Langer, 7 January 1946, Folder ‘British Empire Division’, Box 12, Entry 1; both in RG 226, NARA. 105. JIC Memorandum for Information No. 217, ‘Russian Troop Movements in SouthEast Europe and Persia’, 15 May 1946, frames 988–95, Reel 2, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also MM (S) (45) 88 (Final), ‘British Postwar Service Representation in the United States’, Report by the Joint Staff Mission, Washington, Paragraph 10, ‘Intelligence Representation’, CAB 122/1385, PRO. 106. JIC Memorandum for Information No. 223, ‘Russia’s Strategic Interests and Intentions in the Middle East’, 28 June 1946 (British date 14 June 1946), frames 422–45; JIC Memorandum for Information No. 224, ‘Russia’s Strategic Interests and Intentions in the Middle East’, 12 July 1946 (British date 6 July 1946), frames 448–52; JIC Memorandum for Information No. 229, ‘Situation in South Persia’, 5 August 1946, formerly British JIC (46) 55 (O) (Final) of 7 June 1946, frames 179– 85; all in Reel 7, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 107. JIC 370, ‘Exchange of Intelligence Estimates and Evaluations thereof Between the United States and the British Joint Intelligence Committees’, 25 September 1946, frames 538–40, Reel 7, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; see also Ranelagh, Agency, pp. 649–50, n†, detailing the American reliance on British intelligence reports regarding Iran during 1979–80. 108. R&A on Greece in Langer to Donovan, 11 July 1944, Folder 2322, Box 155, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 109. SI Branch Progress Report for 1–31 December 1944, 31 December 1944, Folder 8, Box 4, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 110. ETO-METO Cable Digest, 16 January 1945, citing cable #3054 London, Casey and Gold to Maddox, 13 January 1945, Folder 41, Box 10, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 111. SI Branch Progress Report, for 1–29 January 1945, dated 29 January 1945, Folder 9; SI Branch Progress Report, Liaison, for 15–28 February 1945, dated 1 March 1945, Folder 10; both in Box 4, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 112. SI Branch Progress Report for 1–15 March 1945, dated 15 March 1945, Folder 11, Box 5, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA.

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113. Ibid.; SI Branch Progress Report for 1–31 March 1945, dated 2 April 1945, Folder 11; SI Branch Progress Report for 1–15 April 1945, dated 14 April 1945, Folder 12; both in Box 5, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 114. SI Progress Report for 1–15 April 1945. 115. SI Branch Progress Report for 1–31 May 1945, dated 31 May 1945, Folder 13, Box 6, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 116. General Order 55, 2 June 1945, Folder 46, Box 3, Entry 147; Thomas V.Dunn to Alfred McCormick, ‘Outline of American Counter-intelligence, Counter-Espionage and Security Activities World War II’, n.d., frame 803, Reel 58, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. 117. OSS Activities Report for June 1945, Folder 128, Box 95, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 118. SI Branch Progress Report for 1–30 June 1945, dated 30 June 1945, Folder 14, Box 6, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 119. W.J.Gold to John A.Bross, 16 July 1945, Folder 995, Box 270, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 120. OSS/Washington General Order 86, 12 July 1945, Folder 76, Box 17; SI Branch Progress Report for 1–30 July 1945, Folder 27, Box 7; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 121. SI Branch Progress Report for 1–31 July 1945, dated 31 July 1945, Folder 27, Box 7, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 122. ‘Over-all and Special Programs for Strategic Services Activities Based on Great Britain (Post-Hostilities), 13 August 1945, Document 419.22, Folder 22, Box 69C, Donovan Papers, USAMHI. 123. SI Branch Progress Report for 1–31 August 1945, Folder 28; Cairo/Athens, European Reports Branch Progress Report for September 1945, dated 25 September 1945, Folder 29; both in Box 7, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 124. Cable In 22072, London to Director OSS, 20 August 1945, Folder ‘London Paris August 1–31 December 1945’, Box 12, Entry 6, RG 226, NARA. 125. Covering Report, OSS/Great Britain for 1–31 August 1945, dated 4 September 1945, Folder 28, Box 7, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 126. OSS Activities Report for August 1945, Folder 130, Box 95, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 127. OSS Activities Report for September 1945, Folder 131, Box 95; see also OSS Mission to Great Britain Progress Report, dated 4 October 1945, Folder 29, Box 7; both in Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 128. Cable In 22072, London to Director OSS, 20 August 1945; see also ‘Overall and Special Programs for Strategic Services Activities Based on Great Britain (PostHostilities)’, 13 August 1945. 129. Magruder to Donovan, 5 September 1945, Folder 829, Box 60, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 130. Andrew and Gordievsky, KGB, pp. 370–5; Andrew, ‘Australian’, p. 227; Bryden, Secret, pp. 267–77; such intelligence might account for the very detailed information contained in the ‘Preliminary Outline of the Russian Intelligence Service’, dated 18 April 1946 in frames 716–30, Reel 57, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA; see also John Earl Haynes and Harvey Klehr, VENONA: Decoding Soviet Espionage in America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000).

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131. OSS Mission to Great Britain Covering Report for 1–30 September 1945, dated 3 October 1945, Folder 29, Box 7, Entry 99, RG 226, NARA. 132. Cable Washington 15287, Magruder to 110 and Shuling, 4 October 1945, Folder ‘Amzon September 1 1945–20 February 1946’, Box 6, Entry 6; see also ‘Report of Brigadier-General John Magruder, Director SSU, WD, to Assistant Secretary Lovett on Intelligence Matters’, 26 October 1945, frames 916–51, Reel 1; SSU General Order No. 2, 12 October 1945, frames 1071–76, Reel 27; both in Entry 190; all in RG 226, NARA. 133. Edgar M.Valk to W.J.Gold, 17 October 1945, Folder 1356, Box 293; see also Valk to Chief, SI/Turkey, and Chief, SI/Greece, 2 May 1946, Folder 551, Box 327; both in Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 134. European Reports Progress Report for October 1945, Folder 2812, Box 200, Entry 146; Summary of SSU Activities for November 1945 and SI Monthly Progress Report for the Near-Middle East, November 1945, both in Folder 2813, Box 201, Entry 146; ‘Soviet-Turkish relations’ source from SSU Summary for December 1945, Folder 2814, Box 201, Entry 146; ETO SI Report for October 1945; ETO SI Report for November 1945; ETO SI Report for December 1945; all in Folder 13, Box 81, Entry 92; all in RG 226, NARA. 135. SSU/Great Britain Report for December 1945, Folder 2814, Box 201, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 136. X-2 Branch Progress Report for 1–31 October 1945; Report of Activities, Headquarters, X-2 Branch October 1945; both in Folder 2812, Box 200, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA. 137. See Magruder letters to G-2, A-2, and Naval Intelligence, 7 December 1945, and the various responses, frames 1122–7, and Maj.-Gen. Clayton Bissell to Magruder, 20 December 1945, frame 1136, all in Reel 29, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 138. Bissell to Magruder, 18 December 1945, with Secretary of War to Magruder, 18 December 1945, frames 1127–8, Reel 29, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 139. Magruder to Bissell, 19 December 1945, frames 1129–30, Reel 29, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 140. See Magruder to Bissell, 29 December 1945, and Rear-Adm. T.B.Inglis to Magruder, 2 January 1946, frames 1140, 1145, Reel 29, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. 141. Magruder to Bissell, 9 January 1946, frame 705, and Magruder to ACoS G-2, 12 January 1946, frame 706, both in Reel 57, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 142. Bissell to Magruder, 24 January 1946, frame 709, Reel 57, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. 143. ‘British Personnel in Meshed and Notes on British Intelligence’, 7 June 1945, frames 0000–0001, Reel 1, Entry 153A, RG 226, NARA. 144. ‘Conference at GHQ Middle East, 11 June 1946, Annex to talk by BGS(I) on The Intelligence Problem in the Middle East’, WO 193/998; see also COS (45) 200th Mtg, 17 August 1945, Minute 7, ‘Organisation of Post War Signal Intelligence’, CAB 79/37; both in PRO; Alan Stripp, ‘Breaking Japanese Codes’, Intelligence and National Security 2, 4 (October 1987), pp. 141–2, and Alan Stripp, Codebreaker in the Far East (London: Frank Cass, 1989), pp. 50–6 on post-war work against lowgrade Persian diplomatic ciphers; see also Andy Thomas, ‘British Signals Intelligence After the Second World War’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 4 (October 1988), pp. 103–10; on later GCHQ work on Russia, see Richard Aldrich and Michael Coleman, The Cold War, the JIC and British Signals Intelligence,

AMERICAN INTELLIGENCE IN WAR-TIME LONDON 231

145. 146.

147. 148. 149.

150.

151. 152. 153.

154. 155.

156.

157.

158. 159.

1948’, Intelligence and National Security 4, 3 (July 1989), pp. 535–49; see B.F.Smith, Stalin, p. 254. Edgar M.Valk to Philip Mosely, 8 January 1946, Folder 553, Box 327, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. James S.Kaylor to Ambassador Winant, 7 January 1946, Folder 553, Box 327, Entry 190; for numerous examples of such reports on Turkey, Greece, and Persia forwarded by SSU from British sources, see frames 453–4, 475, Reel 1; frames 334–54, 408–9, 535, Reel 2; frames 257, 461–5, 621–2, Reel 3; all in Entry 153A; all in RG 226, NARA. Edgar M.Valk to Cabot Coville, 11 January 1946; James S.Kaylor to Ambassador Winant, 12 January 1946; Folder 553, Box 327, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. Edgar M.Valk to Lester C.Houck, 8 February 1946, Folder 553, Box 327, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. SSU ETO Report for March 1946, Folder 2817, Box 201, Entry 146; ‘liberal’ quote from Edgar M.Valk to Chief, SI/Berne, 14 March 1946, Folder 552, Box 327, Entry 190; both in RG 226, NARA. Secretariat to Director, 29 April 1946, Folder 2817, Box 201, Entry 146, RG 226, NARA; on X-2’s link in Russia, this was stated by X-2’s Mr Blum before the SSU Fact Finding Board on 20 February 1946; see the Minutes of the Board, frame 1037, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA; Blum also stated that X-2 had not run any agents in Russia during the war itself. SSU ETO Progress Report for May 1946, Folder 13, Box 81, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Foreign Reports London Desk Report for July 1946, Folder 6, Box 80, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Donald M.Greer to Lester C.Houck, Monthly Evaluation Report, 12 September 1946; on Persia and Turkey, Middle East Station Report for August 1946, dated 4 September 1946; both in Folder 4, Box 80, Entry 92, RG 226, NARA. Open Memorandum by Beurt SerVaas [sic], 18 March 1946, frames 712–15, Reel 57, Entry 95, RG 226, NARA. Harbutt, Iron, pp. 151–208; see also Richard Pfau, ‘Containment in Iran, 1946: The Shift to an Active Policy’, Diplomatic History 1, 4 (Fall 1977), pp. 359–72; Stephen L. McFarland, ‘A Peripheral View of the Origins of the Cold War: The Crisis in Iran, 1941–47’, Diplomatic History 4, 4 (Fall 1980), pp. 333–51. Harbutt, Iron, pp. 164, 169, 172–82, 209–66; cf. Walker, ‘Beginnings’, pp. 95– 101; D.Cameron Watt, ‘Britain, the United States, and the Opening of the Cold War’, in Ovendale (ed.), Labour, pp. 43–60. Kuniholm, Near, pp. xv–xxi; see Richard J.Aldrich (ed.) British Intelligence, Strategy and the Cold War 1945–51 (London: Routledge, 1992), and the review by David Stafford, Intelligence and National Security 9, 1 (January 1994), pp. 164–5; see also B.F.Smith, Ultra-Magic, pp. 221–7 on SIGINT ties in the 1945–46 period, and for the suggestion that general Anglo-American intelligence exchanges dated from after August 1946 between the British Joint Intelligence Board and the US Central Intelligence Group (see below on CIG). Harbutt, Iron, pp. 268–71. ‘Sounder’, Minute by Williams, 16 May 1946; ‘fully alive’, telegram by Mr Helm, 16 May 1946; ‘looking up’, Minute by illegible, 16 May 1946; all in FO 371/59312,

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160.

161. 162.

163. 164. 165. 166. 167.

R7311/7311/44, PRO; not that American economic aid for Britain was particularly forthcoming—see Woods, Changing, pp. 397–407. Yergin, Shattered, pp. 17–41, 138–62, 200–1, 219, 270–1; see also Howard Jones and Randall B.Woods, ‘Origins of the Cold War in Europe and the Near East: Recent Historiography and the National Security Imperative’, Diplomatic History 17, 2 (Spring 1993), pp. 25–76; cf. Bradley F.Smith, ‘An Idiosyncratic View of Where we Stand on the History of American Intelligence in the Early post-1945 Era’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 4 (October 1988), pp. 111–23; see also Robert L.Messer, ‘Paths Not Taken: The United States Department of State and Alternatives to Containment, 1945–1946’, Diplomatic History 1, 4 (Fall 1977), pp. 297–319; Burton Hersh, The Old Boys: The American Elite and the Origins of the CIA (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1992), pp. 176, 454, and the review by Nelson MacPherson in Intelligence and National Security 8, 2 (April 1993), pp. 272–4. See Leffler, Power, pp. 3–140, 497, 499, 502. Memorandum to the Secretary of War, ‘Preliminary Report of Committee Appointed to Study War Department Intelligence Activities’, 3 November 1945, frames 1001–1008, Reel 1, Entry 190, RG 226, NARA. On the Bureau of the Budget/State Department plan, see Troy, Donovan, pp. 325–9. Ibid., pp. 339–40; quote from Montague MS, ‘Smith’, p. 50. Troy, Donovan, pp. 340–9; Montague MS, ‘Smith’, pp. 50–2. Troy, Donovan, p. 358; cf. B.F.Smith, Ultra-Magic, pp. 225, 227 on CIG and intelligence exchanges with the British JIB. Troy, Donovan, pp. 359–410; see also Jansen and Jeffreys-Jones, ‘Gang’, pp. 130– 42; cf. David F.Rudgers, Creating the Secret State: The Origins of the Central Intelligence Agency, 1943–1947 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2000).

Conclusion

R&A alumnus Gordon Craig noted in 1991 that during his entire time in OSS, he ‘never knew what was going on’ within the organization.1 This observation unwittingly substantiated William Casey’s experience of being told in September 1943 that OSS was ‘a mess in London. Good people, but no one knows what anybody else is doing.’2 Given the wide variety of OSS/London activities surveyed in the preceding chapters, it is easy to understand how individual OSS members knew little beyond their immediate surroundings. The wide-ranging scope of OSS/London’s war made the workings of other branches a mystery, and the complete story of the mission beyond any one man’s comprehension. Whatever its claims to centralization and coordination, no one individual ever really appreciated the full measure of OSS/London’s activities, nor the complete significance of its relationship with British intelligence. This study, with the benefit of agency-wide archival sources, therefore offers an unprecedented examination of developments within OSS/London, and insights into the worth of modern intelligence work. OSS/London’s development, and its partnership with British intelligence, moreover reveal an inner mechanism of the larger AngloAmerican relationship, itself based on necessity, and firmly grounded in pragmatism. This evolving primacy of professionalism was perhaps the most important legacy of wartime Anglo-American intelligence for the post-war world. The fruits of intelligence collaboration thus gave the post-1945 North Atlantic alliance a foundation based on recognizing intelligence as a proverbial sine qua non of power politics. It did not lead to a US ‘National Security State’, nor to America imposing ‘ties that bind’ on its much weaker intelligence colleagues.3 It instead helped America accept the anarchical society’s dictates, and gave Britain more status in the alliance than otherwise likely.4 OSS/London was first and foremost shaped by the British intelligence establishment. Britain admittedly exploited intelligence links through William Stephenson’s BSC to influence American perceptions of how America might aid Britain short of war. With William Donovan as their mark, the British Admiralty’s Naval Intelligence Division combined with BSC to help mobilize a formal, distinct American intelligence service with the Coordinator of Information. From then on, however, the development of American intelligence in London was subject less to the machinations of British officials than to the

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intelligence war’s exigencies. While functioning usefully as a conduit for SIS intelligence, COI/London rested on shaky ground in light of the American military’s hostility toward Donovan’s service in Washington. This bureaucratic insecurity was itself a defining element in the Anglo-American intelligence relationship. On one level, it required the Americans to win the confidence of Britain’s intelligence services in order to gain an entrée into operational intelligence work. On another level, it complicated that very process since the British invariably wanted assurance of COI’s viability before fully opening up to the Americans. COI’s metamorphosis into OSS did little to overcome the uncertainty and inertia plaguing the London mission given the US Army’s reliance on British intelligence (as witnessed by William Wiseman’s enquiries on behalf of ‘C’ regarding the permanence of OSS). Only the support of SIS and SOE themselves during summer 1943 finally permitted OSS/London to secure its place within the military hierarchy. This substantively reflected the primary British motivation at that point: identifying an American counterpart, and getting on with formulating plans for operations in Europe. To this end, both SIS and SOE obviously saw OSS/London as the most logical partner for their European work. While this was a vital development for OSS/London’s viability, it entrenched another defining aspect of the wartime intelligence relationship: the extent to which Churchill’s fragmented and disharmonious intelligence system directly determined the development of OSS/London’s branches. The centralization supposedly inherent in OSS was thus negated by the decisions of Winston Churchill and the American military, and the support of British services desperate to achieve operational successes. OSS/London accordingly mirrored the factionalized British intelligence system throughout the war. OSS/London’s main operational branches therefore worked more closely in full partnerships with their British colleagues through SUSSEX and JEDBURGH than either did with each other or the rest of OSS. The British and OSS/London moreover understood how these operations reflected the primacy of military requirements in the intelligence war.5 Indeed, OSS/London clearly recognized its need for full and complete operational partnerships with British intelligence in order to achieve something of consequence, and to win the American military’s confidence. Rather than being naive victims of British manipulation, SI and SO both thrived as a result of their piggy-backing onto British intelligence. R&A’s fate underscores this conclusion. Without a clear opposite number for forging a partnership, the bulk of R&A/London was left to work in isolation from the rest of OSS and the intelligence war in Europe. Intended as a unique American innovation in modern intelligence work, R&A was instead crippled by the lack of a clear intelligence concept. Reduced to serving as a glorified postoffice, R&A/London developed into a highly skilled irrelevancy born of an unwillingness to accept that R&A’s best chance to thrive lay in working with the many opposite British agencies to serve basic military information needs. As a collection of academics rather than intelligence officers, R&A failed to grasp the essential requirement of serving the needs of intelligence consumers, and the

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importance of fitting within the context of military primacy. When given the opportunity to do just that, R&A simply allowed its intellectual pretensions to get in the way. This was clearly demonstrated by EOU when it tried to manipulate the military leaders it was supposed to serve, all in pursuit of a military objective steeped more in intellectual arrogance than in empirical fact. Its rigid adherence to a ‘Party Line’ that wilfully ignored certain disappointing operational realities nullified the application of scholarly analysis to operational policy since the facts were defined by the desired end, not the other way around. R&A’s unwillingness to lower itself to perform mundane intelligence processing likewise subordinated empiricism to dilettantism in SIRA, and so rendered R&A superfluous to OSS/London’s increasingly professional intelligence work.6 Professionalism also marked SI’s German penetration, and X-2’s partnership with MI6(V) in counter-intelligence. William Casey successfully mobilized OSS/ London’s assets over a surprisingly brief period to achieve an independent espionage effort against Germany in support of the military. The military’s enthusiasm for this operation, and their reliance on the intelligence produced, both testify to OSS/London’s coming of age in the operational realm and the extent to which OSS/London had matured from its early days as an intelligence conduit. X-2 also demonstrated its capacity for rapidly developing a strong CI capability in tandem with the British culminating with a central role in SHAEF’s CI War Room. While distanced from the rest of OSS/London by the usual, but in this case more understandable, functional fragmentation typifying the AngloAmerican intelligence community, X-2’s experiences nevertheless showed its evolution from the status of neophyte to full partner. The close ties between OSS/ London’s Morale Operations and British psychological warfare conversely made MO vulnerable to the inherent weaknesses and poor potential of propaganda during the war. With war’s end, OSS/London was reduced to an intelligence-CI rump as SSU/ Great Britain. The experienced, professional service that had grown over the previous four years was demobilized with unseemly haste. This professionalism was not matched by the US government’s appreciation for its relevance to American foreign policy, however, and the link with British intelligence at this juncture again proved critical. By virtue of the Anglo-American intelligence relationship which had evolved throughout the war, SSU’s SI and X-2 branches provided an ideal channel for British intelligence reports on the growing Soviet threat to the post-war order. The necessity of American help for Britain took precedence over any sentimentality in the transition to Cold War, and the ensuing North Atlantic alliance was conceived at least in part through the hard intelligence facts given to SSU by SIS. The intelligence dimension of the AngloAmerican partnership that started with COI/London in 1941, and which had flourished in wartime, was preserved to fight another day in the period leading up to the CIA’s creation, and America’s dominant role in cold war intelligence. The British connection’s significance to American intelligence is clear. US intelligence was not shaped by any Machiavellian manipulation by SIS and SOE,

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or by the prophetic genius of William Donovan. It was instead moulded through the forging of an Anglo-American intelligence partnership that paved the way for realizing a concrete capacity for professional American intelligence. The British intelligence establishment did not tutor OSS/London per se. The various OSS branches were instead accepted by their British counterparts as partners in joint endeavours, in the course of which OSS/London achieved an accelerated capability which matched, and in some cases surpassed, that of the British services. X-2 and SO certainly produced efforts equivalent to those of MI6(V) and SOE in northwest Europe. SI not only kept pace with Broadway’s operational record in France, but it went on to out-perform MI6 in penetrating Germany. Even when largely run down as SSU, the SI and X-2 components maintained a critical nucleus for America’s future intelligence capability. MO’s efforts were limited by the problematic nature of its work, whereas R&A served mainly as an underachieving disappointment that hinted at the possibilities of applying scholarly methods to intelligence analysis without matching those already attained by Britain. This potential would remain unrealized in America until the CIA’s formation.7 The preceding chapters accordingly provide an empirical basis for assessing the relative fortunes of these London branches, ordained as they were in large part by the British connection. SI, SO, and X-2 flourished because of that linkage, while MO achieved little as a result of its counterpart’s own weak hand. R&A achieved minimal results because the branch’s Washington leadership largely eschewed a realistic agenda based on exploiting partnerships with British agencies. SI managed in a few short months between January 1944 and the invasion of Europe to piece together an effective espionage capacity for the SUSSEX programme. OSSEX intelligence was of great tactical significance in Normandy since it supplemented that gained through ULTRA and PR. Not only could SI build on SUSSEX with its own PROUST agent scheme in France, but it went on to direct the penetration of Germany where SIS could not hope to operate. SI in effect capitalized on its partnership with SIS in serving SHAEF during OVERLORD by going on alone to meet the military’s tactical intelligence needs in Germany.8 SO’s peak performance came in France with the JEDBURGH project, where the Americans operated on a par with their more numerous SOE partners to make the hazardous clandestine sabotage and guerrilla warfare campaign a success. X-2 quickly achieved high standing in the arcane world of counter-intelligence thanks largely to the British willingness to share ISOS as a means of formulating a truly effective Allied CI capacity. The military again benefited greatly from the Anglo-American CI work that neutralized German espionage during and after OVERLORD. Taken fully into MI6(V)’s confidence, X-2 helped form an integrated CI arm ready to counter residual Nazism before the NKVD’s efforts manifested themselves. In contrast to these achievements, R&A failed to live up to its overrated reputation. The most overrated R&A element of all, EOU, illustrates a perversion of the intelligence cycle. EOU demonstrated its subordination of disinterested analysis and

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dissemination to the biased needs of its bloated collective ego. It clearly developed an unseemly propensity for manipulating consumers into providing the direction that EOU itself desired. That was not the way it was done in Broadway’s Circulating Sections, FRPS, or PID, much less SI’s Reports Division. Research and analysis in those units were confined to applying skills to meet the needs of various consumers, and did not extend toward controlling those consumers with fallacious ‘Party Lines’. The relative merits of OSS/London’s branches moreover rest firmly within the context of the Anglo-American relationship, and reveal one of that partnership’s key dimensions. The foremost aspect to be considered is that of British pragmatism in its approach to America. Britain was inclined more to trust in the self-evident wisdom of its example than it was to outright manipulation of its ally. Its desperate position in 1940–41 obviously contributed to a rather overt attempt to influence US envoys and representatives, but that was a far cry from pulling America’s strings. The habitual American assumption that nature had ‘endowed the British with a well-nigh inexhaustible store of superior cunning’ may explain the inferiority complex which sometimes marked perceptions within OSS (especially inside SI), but Britain was clearly and essentially motivated by necessity in its intelligence relationship with the US.9 In the spirit of ‘competitive cooperation’, Britain still hoped to preserve its interests in the face of its inexorable eclipse by the Big Two, and to avoid being trampled by Roosevelt’s headlong rush to a new world order created in his own image, but its intelligence community still extended tutelage and cooperation toward the OSS to expedite winning the intelligence war as each British service conceived it. SIS and SOE naturally had their own individual survival to consider as they desperately pursued operational successes in the intelligence war. Once assured of OSS/London’s permanence, they cooperated to the best of their abilities (SIS opted out of penetrating Germany to mask its own inadequacies, not to curtail SI; its responsibility for vetting SI’s German agents could have neatly put paid to SI’s plans had Broadway been so motivated). Particularly noteworthy is the manner in which MI6(V) made its IS OS intelligence fully available to X-2. This was presumably done out of a need to ensure cohesive Allied CI, not sentiment; but it clearly demonstrated that once British intelligence decided to cooperate with the Americans to the extent of forging a partnership, it did so completely. With the onset of the first cold war, British policy-makers were sufficiently motivated by their discomfort in the face of Russian hostility to direct a considerable amount of relevant intelligence to both the US JIC and SSU/Great Britain in an attempt to win America over to Britain’s strategic conception. Pragmatism once again made SIS forthcoming, and once again Broadway expressed concern about the permanence of some sort of American intelligence capacity. This last point also underscores the fact that the Anglo-American intelligence relationship through OSS/London depended not on smooth Anglophile officers who melded with the British Establishment, but on necessity.10 Long after David Bruce left London, SIS was keen to preserve its

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links with SSU. What counted most here was the fact that Britain needed America as an ally for Britain’s self-preservation, and this held equally true in the intelligence realm. Competitive cooperation was mitigated by common sense. OSS/London’s experience thus bears out the dictum by Andrew and Dilks concerning the gradual professionalization of intelligence services, and the gradual way in which policy-makers and leaders have learned to use them. OSS/ London’s evolution toward professionalism, and the experience of America’s military and political leaders in learning to appreciate the capabilities of OSS/ SSU, are both evident.11 So is the extent to which both of these phenomena were influenced by the intelligence relationship with Britain. British intelligence did not tutor American neophytes. Intelligence was instead treated as yet another element of an Anglo-American necessary relationship, a factor in modern warfare and statecraft that could not be ignored or trifled with. Once reconciled to this reality, the British sought to realize a functioning partnership. Britain thus invited the creation of a viable, modern US intelligence capacity, just as it invited America’s participation in the Second World War, and just as it invited American leadership of the post-war North Atlantic alliance. Pretensions to independent British actions simply could not stand up to harsh realities after Dunkirk, periodic spasms of resentment notwithstanding. OSS/London therefore did not simply learn intelligence tradecraft from its British colleagues. More importantly, and perhaps subliminally, it learned about the role of the Great Game in the world of Great Power politics, and about the realities incumbent to America being a Great Power. As America in fact vaulted to the status of superpower, Britain was in a very real sense able to preserve a degree of importance in the emerging North Atlantic alliance that belied its comparatively pathetic resources. The renowned German historian Leopold von Ranke placed considerable emphasis on power relationships between nation-states, and defined the essence of diplomacy as divining the nature of the international balance of power, and through that judgement safeguard the national interest.12 In what Martin Wight has called a ‘shadow diplomacy’, intelligence is essential to such judgements, with raison d’état justifying its actions in defence of the public interest.13 The existence of a strong, tested Anglo-American intelligence relationship thus did not impose British subordination on America (that was already a given). It instead provided Britain with a basis from which it could exercise a degree of influence its material resources could not possibly ensure.14 The manner in which Britain exploited its intelligence relationship with America during 1945–46 certainly confirms this. As a case-study of the evolution toward professional intelligence, OSS/ London also reveals some aspects significant to intelligence theory.15 In terms of the relationship with policy makers, the relative success of SI and SO in comparison with R&A suggests that intelligence entities are best employed by serving the basic information needs of their consumers. As suggested by R&A’s own Crane Brinton, by so providing the basics of shadow diplomacy, or shadow

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military strategy, intelligence services can truly influence policy with reliable information. Supplying short-range estimates or tactical intelligence thereby establishes the essential utility of intelligence in response to immediate consumer needs through delivering the significant hard facts needed to formulate and execute policy.16 Neither SHAEF nor the American armies in Europe quarrelled with the content of SI intelligence, or denigrated the utility of SO’s coordination of resistance forces with military operations, or resisted taking heed of X-2’s CI information. Intelligence is more likely to become compromised when, as in the case of EOU, supplying information is subordinated to the intelligence service’s own agenda. OSS/London’s experiences overall suggest that intelligence is a ‘demandside’ activity, not a ‘supply-side’ one. In other words, intelligence services only flourish when they can meet specific, existing needs. Any attempt to rely on the usefulness of the intelligence product to be self-evident, and to be automatically recognized as such by decision-makers, is futile.17 As for the question of coordinating intelligence services, and the efficacy of centralization, OSS/London provides some interesting evidence. The ostensible centralization of OSS, long considered its main innovation, was a myth. OSS/ London’s branches never demonstrated any of the supposed advantages of its organization before William Casey’s penetration of Germany. Until that operation, each branch had established a closer relationship with its functionally similar British counterpart than with other OSS branches. The closest OSS/ London came to realizing its innovation was after Casey prodded it to mobilize its assets to penetrate Germany. That was the only significant instance where OSS/London realized the ideal of combining various branches and resources to a common goal. As such, that operation accomplished much more than its fragmented British counterparts could with their system of separate services. Combined with the lack of substantive direction from William Donovan, the reality of separate, rival British services shaped how OSS/London’s own branches developed. Facing the pressure to get operational, most of OSS/London’s branches threw themselves into establishing partnerships with the British services, and thereby replicated their fragmentation. This was inevitable, and ultimately for the best if the resulting professionalization is balanced against the probability that a steadfastly centralized, but isolated, OSS/London would have accom plished very little of consequence to justify an administrative innovation. Indeed, the various Anglo-American partnerships between like services (SI-SIS; SO-SOE; X-2-MI6[V]) each demonstrated a strong degree of functional, horizontal integration within an alliance that far outweighed manipulation or dominance by a single nation, thereby laying a more convincing foundation for any post-war ‘ties that bind’.18 It was also the main reason why Donovan’s centralization was more ambitious than practical at this stage of development. Functionalism thus outweighed centralization in the Anglo-American intelligence partnership in London, and it is difficult to conceive of how it might have been different.

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OSS/London’s experiences further suggest that overseas OSS missions tended to evolve outside OSS/Washington’s narrow administrative context, and that theatre missions deserve further study as to their relationships with local military and allied intelligence services. OSS/London’s place within the larger history of US intelligence also confirms Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones’s point about the importance of American intelligence services securing bureaucratic standing, while underscoring how America accepted intelligence as a necessity.19 Both considerations thereby define the wartime experience as a turning point in US intelligence history. Since America’s acceptance of intelligence was so marked by the Anglo-American alliance, OSS/London’s story provides additional insights into the ‘Special Relationship’ itself. The alliance was, on the working level at least, more markedly based on mutually enlightened self-interest than on sentiment. It may be described more accurately as a ‘Necessary Relationship’, which itself suggests a less romantic approach to studying Anglo-American relations based on distinguishing between the rhetoric of national leaders, and the concrete efforts established by each nation’s institutions. At the same time, it indicates a modification of the notably unromantic portrait painted by David Reynolds’s conception of ‘competitive cooperation’. As shown by the wartime Anglo-American intelligence relationship, any competitiveness was quickly subordinated to the reality that Britain increasingly depended on its alliance with America. With war, Britain essentially compromised on its Great Power status to accept a junior partnership in a more permanent, reliable North Atlantic alliance of Anglo-Saxon nations that preserved the last vestiges of British influence, among which were intelligence. Competitiveness had to give way as Britain retired from the front rank of Great Powers.20 Studying OSS/London also suggests some methodological points. The opening of intelligence archives is perhaps the single most important development represented by this present study. The archival trend begun in America, now spreading to Russia (and less extensively to Britain), provides a new opportunity to place intelligence studies more concretely within the context of military and diplomatic studies. It allows a testing of outdated myths, and of intelligence theory; it allows intelligence studies to come of age, and so acquire scholarly legitimacy by revealing insights that have previously eluded scholars of military and diplomatic history, or of political science.21 New paths have thus been opened for intelligence study, particularly for future students of OSS. Feasible projects include detailed, impartial treatments of individual OSS branches, or of OSS missions in Algiers, Cairo, and Italy, that focus on how intelligence was collected and practically used, on how OSS was variously obstructed or supported, on how local OSS members adapted to local conditions and to the congenital chaos within OSS itself, and on how OSS members exploited their opportunities. Additional work on the origins of the Cold War is also possible given the increasing availability of intelligence records pertaining to many relevant episodes after 1941 and beyond.

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OSS/London thus illustrates that US intelligence matured and became institutionalized within the larger Anglo-American relationship. As a case-study of an intelligence service in action, the preceding chapters document the critical role intelligence played in one of the Second World War’s most significant military and diplomatic theatres. They also illuminate the strengths and weaknesses of OSS relative to its British partners, while revealing many previously undocumented aspects of those partners. Most importantly, they place OSS/London’s evolution within the context of modern statecraft. The institutionalization of American intelligence owes much to its role in supporting military operations as part of a realistic Anglo-American partnership, since it was in this intense environment that America learned—quicker than many realized—what being a Great Power involved.22 OSS/London was thus a focal point that brought together some hard-won lessons with a transition to alliance leadership in the space of five years. If war realized a modern, professional, tested American intelligence capability, post-war developments confirmed its critical timing. Atomic physics and a firmly bipolar world combined to confront America with an unprecedented international system defined by starkly unforgiving consequences in the event of its breakdown. By 1946, professional intelligence and American power were mated in a kind of world that few could have anticipated in 1941, one where desperate men waging clandestine shadow diplomacy strove to usurp war as ultima ratio regum, the final argument of kings. NOTES 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

13.

Cited in MacPherson, ‘Conference Report’, p. 513. Persico, Casey, p. 55. See Yergin, Shattered, and Richelson and Ball, Ties. See Verrier, Looking Glass. See Strong, Men, p. 120, on how Eisenhower wanted intelligence to have a position of professional military authority within staff and organizational structures. On R&A in general, cf. Hilsman, Strategic, pp. 22–3, 33, 82; Ransom, Intelligence, p. 66. See Colby and Forbath, Honorable, p. 55. For SHAEF’s view of OSS, see cable, SHAEF Forward to AGWAR for JCS, No. Fwd-22386, 26 May 1945, WO 219/5277, PRO. Balfour dispatch, 9 August 1945; cf. Downes, Thread, passim. See the MacPherson review of Lankford (ed.), pp. 366–7. See the MacPherson review of Hersh, p. 273. David Trask, ‘Writings on American Foreign Relations: 1957 to the Present’, in John Braeman, Robert H.Bremner, and David Brody (eds), Twentieth-Century American Foreign Policy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971), p. 59. Wight, Power, pp. 29, 116–17; cf. Yergin, Shattered, passim.

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14. Verrier, Looking Glass; see Richelson and Ball, Ties; on the Cold War in general, see John Lewis Gaddis, The Long Peace: Inquiries into the History of the Cold War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987). 15. See Chapter 1 above, p.9. 16. See also Handel, ‘Politics’, p. 9. 17. See Berkowitz and Goodman, Strategic, pp. 109, 136, 173–7; Strong, Men, p. 168. 18. See Richelson and Ball, Ties. 19. Jeffreys-Jones, CIA, pp. 248, 250. 20. This is broadly recognized in Reynolds, ‘Synthesis’, pp. 38–41; see also Reynolds, ‘Rethinking’, pp. 94, 97–8; Hathaway, Ambiguous, p. 308. 21. See MacPherson, ‘Conference’, p. 515; cf. Gaddis, ‘Intelligence’, pp. 191–212. 22. On the context of the international system and state requirements for intelligence, see Roger Hilsman, ‘International Environment, the State, and Intelligence’, in Maurer, Tunstall, and Keagle (eds), Intelligence, pp. 19–27; cf. B.F.Smith, ‘Idiosyncratic’, pp. 121–2, and Jeffreys-Jones, Espionage, pp. 172–7.

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Maurer, Alfred C., Tunstall, Marion, and Keagle, James M. ‘General Introduction’, in Alfred C.Maurer, Marion Tunstall, and James M. Keagle (eds) Intelligence: Policy and Process (Boulder: Westview Press, 1985), pp. 1–18. ——.’Conclusion’, in Alfred C.Maurer, Marion Tunstall, and James M. Keagle (eds) Intelligence: Policy and Process (Boulder: Westview Press, 1985), pp. 353–5. May, Ernest R. An American Tradition in Foreign Policy: The Role of Public Opinion’, in William H.Nelson with Francis L.Lowenheim (eds) Theory and Practice in American Politics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), pp. 101–22. McFarland, Stephen L. ‘A Peripheral View of the Origins of the Cold War: The Crisis in Iran, 1941–47’, Diplomatic History 4, 4 (Fall 1980), pp. 333–51. Messer, Robert L. ‘Paths Not Taken: The United States Department of State and Alternatives to Containment, 1945–1946’, Diplomatic History 1, 4 (Fall 1977), pp. 297–319. Mierzejewski, Alfred C. ‘Intelligence and the Strategic Bombing of Germany: The Combined Strategic Targets Committee’, International journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence 3, 1 (Spring 1989), pp. 83–104. Müller, Klaus-Jürgen. ‘A German Perspective on Allied Deception Operations in the Second World War’, Intelligence and National Security 2, 3 (July 1987), pp. 301–26. Naftali, Timothy J. ‘Intrepid’s Last Deception: Documenting the Career of Sir William Stephenson’, Intelligence and National Security 8, 3 (July 1993), pp. 72–99. O’Halpin, Eunan. ‘Financing British Intelligence: the Evidence up to 1945’, in Kenneth G.Robertson (ed.) British and American Approaches to Intelligence (London: Macmillan, 1987), pp. 187–217. Pfau, Richard. ‘Containment in Iran, 1946: The Shift to an Active Policy’, Diplomatic History 1, 4 (Fall 1977), pp. 359–72. Reynolds, David. ‘Churchill and the British “Decision” to Fight on in 1940: Right Policy, Wrong Reasons’, in Richard Langhorne (ed.) Diplomacy and Intelligence during the Second World War: Essays in Honour of F.H.Hinsley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), pp. 147–67. ——.‘Roosevelt, Churchill, and the Wartime Anglo-American Alliance, 1939–1945: Towards a New Synthesis’, in William Roger Louis and Hedley Bull (eds) The ‘Special Relationship’: Anglo-American Relations Since 1945 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1986), pp. 17–41. ——.‘Rethinking Anglo-American Relations’, International Affairs 65, 1 (Winter 1988– 89), pp. 89–111. Roberts, Frank K. ‘Ernest Bevin as Foreign Secretary’, in Ritchie Ovendale (ed.), The Foreign Policy of the British Labour Governments, 1945–1951 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1984), pp. 21–42. Ross, Graham. ‘Foreign Office Attitudes to the Soviet Union, 1941–45’, Journal of Contemporary History 16, 3 (July 1981), pp. 521–39. Rostow, W.W. ‘The London Operation: Recollections of an Economist’, in George C.Chalou (ed.) The Secrets War: The Office of Strategic Services in World War II (Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration, 1992), pp. 48–60. Sainsbury, Keith. ‘The Second Wartime Alliance’, in Neville Waites (ed.) Troubled Neighbours: Franco-British Relations in the Twentieth Century (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971), pp. 228–58.

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Schlesinger, Arthur, Jr. ‘The London Operation: Recollections of a Historian’, in George C.Chalou (ed.) The Secrets War: The Office of Strategic Services in World War II (Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration, 1992), pp. 61–8. Smith, Bradley F. ‘Admiral Godfrey’s Mission to America, June/July 1941’, Intelligence and National Security 1, 3 (September 1986), pp. 441–50. ——. ‘A Note on the OSS, Ultra, and World War I’s Intelligence Legacy for America’, Defense Analysis 3, 2 (June 1987), pp. 186–8. ——. ‘An Idiosyncratic View of Where we Stand on the History of American Intelligence in the Early post-1945 Era’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 4 (October 1988), pp. 111–23. ——. ‘The OSS and Record Group 226: Some Perspectives and Prospects’, in George C.Chalou (ed.), The Secrets War: The Office of Strategic Services in World War II (Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Administration, 1992), pp. 359–67. Stafford, David. ‘Britain Looks at Europe, 1940: Some Origins of SOE’, Canadian Journal of History 10, 1 (April 1975), pp. 231–48. ‘The Detonator Concept: British Strategy, SOE and European Resistance After the Fall of France’, Journal of Contemporary History 10, 2 (April 1975), pp. 185–217. ——.‘Secret Operations versus Secret Intelligence in World War II: The British Experience’, in Timothy Travers and Christon Archer (eds), Men at War: Politics, Technology and Innovation in the Twentieth Century (Chicago: Precedent, 1982), pp. 119–36. ——.‘“Intrepid”: Myth and Reality’, journal of Contemporary History 22, 2 (April 1987), pp. 303–17. Steele, Richard W. ‘The Pulse of the People. Franklin D. Roosevelt and the Gauging of American Public Opinion’, journal of Contemporary History 9, 4 (October 1974), pp. 195–216. Stengers, Jean. ‘Enigma, the French, the Poles and the British, 1931–1940’, in Christopher Andrew and David Dilks (eds) The Missing Dimension: Governments and Intelligence Communities in the Twentieth Century (London: Macmillan, 1984), pp. 101–37. Stripp, Alan. ‘Breaking Japanese Codes’, Intelligence and National Security 2, 4 (October 1987), pp. 135–50. Strong, Robert A. ‘October Surprises’, Intelligence and National Security, 8, 2 (April 1993), pp. 227–35. Thomas, Andy. ‘British Signals Intelligence After the Second World War’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 4 (October 1988), pp. 103–10. Thomas, Edward. ‘The Evolution of the JIC System Up to and During World War II’, in Christopher Andrew and Jeremy Noakes (eds) Intelligence and International Relations, 1900–1945 (Exeter: Exeter University Publications, 1987), pp. 220–32. Trask, David. ‘Writings on American Foreign Relations: 1957 to the Present’, in John Braeman, Robert H.Bremner, and David Brody (eds), Twentieth-Century American Foreign Policy (Columbus: The Ohio State University Press, 1971), pp. 58–118. Trotter, David. ‘The Politics of Adventure in the Early British Spy Novel’, Intelligence and National Security 5, 4 (October 1990), pp. 35–54. Valero, Larry A. ‘An Impressive Record: The American Joint Intelligence Committee and Estimates of the Soviet Union, 1945–1947’, Studies in Intelligence 9 (Summer 2000), pp. 65–80.

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E. Book Reviews and Review Articles Harbutt, Fraser J. ‘Cold War Origins: An Anglo-European Perspective’, Diplomatic History 13, 1 (Winter 1989), pp. 123–33. Jeffreys-Jones, Rhodri. ‘American Intelligence: A Spur to Historical Genius?’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 2 (April 1988), pp. 332–7. MacPherson, Nelson. Review of Max Corvo, The OSS in Italy, 1942–1945: A Personal Memoir. Intelligence and National Security 6, 3 (July 1991), pp. 645–6. ——. Review of Nelson D.Lankford (ed.) OSS against the Reich: The World War II Diaries of Colonel David K.E.Bruce, Intelligence and National Security 7, 3 (July 1992), pp. 366–7. ——. Review of Edward L.Field, Retreat to Victory: A Previously Untold OSS Operation, Intelligence and National Security 7, 4 (October 1992), pp. 500–2. ——. ‘Conference Report’, Intelligence and National Security 7, 4 (October 1992), pp. 513–15. ——Review of Burton Hersh, The Old Boys: The American Elite and the Origins of the CIA, Intelligence and National Security 8, 2 (April 1993), pp. 272–4. Seaman, Mark. Review of Robert Marshall, All the King’s Men: The Truth Behind SOE’s Greatest Wartime Disaster, Intelligence and National Security 4, 1 (January 1989), pp. 198–201. Stafford, David. Review of Richard J.Aldrich (ed.) British Intelligence, Strategy and the Cold War 1945–51, Intelligence and National Security 9, 1 (January 1994), pp. 164–5.

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Walker, J.Samuel. ‘The Beginnings of the Cold War: Prize-Winning Perspectives’, Diplomatic History 12, 1 (Winter 1988), pp. 95–101. Watt, D.C. ‘Intelligence Studies: The Emergence of the British School’, Intelligence and National Security 3, 2 (April 1988), pp. 338–41. Zuckerman, Lord. ‘The Doctrine of Destruction’, New York Review of Books 37, 5 (29 March 1990), pp. 33–5.

F. Published Archival Guide Atherton, Louise. TOP SECRET: An Interim Guide to Recent Releases of Intelligence Records at the Public Record Office (London: PRO Publications, 1993).

G. Unpublished Dissertation Rifkind, Bernard David. ‘OSS and Franco-American Relations: 1942–1945’. PhD dissertation, George Washington University, 1983.

Index

Abwehr see GIS Alanbrooke, Field Marshal Viscount 29, 31, 231 Andrews, General Frank 57 Angleton, James 195 Anglo-American relations 2–6, 36, 224–5, 233–4, 266, 268; Intelligence dimension 45, 70–1, 88– 91, 216–17, 224, 234–5, 237, 245–7, 260–6 armies: 1st British 196; 1st US 85–6, 165, 174; 3rd US 87, 174; 7th US 174, 176–7; 9th US 176–7; see also army groups Armour, Lester 207 army groups: 6th US 174–5; 12th US 86, 165, 174–5, 177, 180, 198, 203, 222; 21st British-Canadian 81, 84–5, 164–5, 176, 196, 198; see also armies Attlee, Clement 26–7, 31–5

BJSM (British Joint Staff Mission) 237 Blum, Robert 193, 201–2 Bottomly, Norman 141 Bowden, George 193 Brewer, George 78 Bridges, Sir Edward 21 Brinton, Crane 108, 111–12, 115–17, 267 BRISSEX 84, 196 British Intelligence 17–38, 217–18; budgets 19, 217; effectiveness 160, 171, 180–1; fragmentation 35–8, 45, 59–61, 63, 79, 89, 169, 192, 195, 199, 203–5, 209, 216–18, 261, 266–8; pre-1939 history 17–19, 190 Bruce, Colonel David 57–8, 71–4, 76–9, 86–7, 90, 110–11, 162, 168, 170, 172, 193, 206, 219, 265 BSC (British Security Coordination) 46–9, 51, 193, 261 Byrnes, James 229, 245 ‘C’ (Chief of the Secret Service) 21–5, 29, 32, 34–5, 47, 51, 57–8, 61, 63, 76–7, 191–2, 194, 200, 202, 241, 261 C&D (Censorship and Documents) 179 CALPO 166–7, 173 Camp 020 199 Casey, William 160, 167–72, 174, 178–81, 260, 267 Cavendish-Bentinck, Victor 75, 207 CHARLES 80 Churchill, Sir Winston 10–11, 21–3, 25–38, 51, 81, 102, 217, 225–6, 244, 261

Bailey-King, Colonel Henry 141 Balfour, John 233 Barnett, Harold 140–1 Baxter, James 106 BCRA (Free French Intelligence) 77, 84 Beaumont-Nesbitt, Major-General F.B. 20 Bevin, Ernest 230, 233 BI (Bureau of Information) 175–6

267

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CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) 2, 119, 246, 262–4 CIG (Central Intelligence Group) 246 Clay, General Lucius 241 Coffin, Robert 118 Cohen, Commander Kenneth 162 COI (Coordinator of Information) 47–55, 104, 205, 261, 263 Cold War: origins 226, 228, 233, 244–5; perceptions 223–38, 244–7, 265 Cowgill, Felix 194 Craig, Gordon 260 CROSS 166–7, 179 Dansey, Claude 57, 77 death ray experts 203 Deutsch, Harold 112–13, 145 Devers, General J.L. 57–8, 63, 74, 77 DIP (Division of Intelligence Procurement) 172–5, 179, 181 Dodds-Parker, Douglas 8 Donovan, Major General William 45–50, 52–7, 59, 62, 73–7, 104, 116, 118, 147– 9, 163, 167, 170, 193, 216–21, 246, 261, 263, 267–8 Dorr, Russell 130–1 DOUBLE CROSS 190–2, 194, 221 Eden, Anthony 31, 33–5 Eisenhower, General Dwight 74, 81–2, 133, 135 Ellis, Dick 47, 54, 72 Englandspiel 30, 37 EOU (Enemy Objectives Unit) 108, 125, 131–45, 149, 262, 264, 267; ‘Party Line’ 131–2, 139–40, 143–4, 262, 264 Evans, Allan 60, 106–8, 112, 148 Evill, Sir Douglas 218 EWD (Economic Warfare Division) 131 FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) 53, 194, 218 Fellner, R.J. 51–2 Field Detachments 81, 83–7, 171, 175, 181, 197, 203, 222

FIS (Foreign Information Service) 105 Fleming, Commander Ian 47 FN (Foreign Nationalities) 110 FNCL (French Committee of National Liberation) 81–2 Foord, Colonel 161 FORD (Foreign Office Research Department) 103 Forgan, Colonel J.R. 167, 172, 174–5 FRPS (Foreign Research Press Service) 103, 105, 107–8, 264 Gallene, Major 161–3 Gambier-Perry, Colonel R. 80 GC&CS (Government Code and Cipher School) 24–5, 102 GCHQ (Government Communications Headquarters) 24, 88, 192, 202, 217, 243 German Army: 84th Infantry Division 180; 116th Panzer Division 180; Panzer Lehr Division 84 GIS (German Intelligence Services) 190–1, 194, 197–8, 202–3, 222 Goddard, Dewitt 174 Godfrey, Rear-Admiral John 47–8 Gubbins, Major-General Colin 74 Hambro, Sir Charles 72, 74 Hankey, Lord 21, 101 Harris, Marshal of the RAF Sir Arthur 127, 134, 137, 139–40, 144 Harwood, Major Aubrey 161, 163 Hoover, J.Edgar 218 Horton, Phil 148 Hughes, Colonel Richard 130, 134, 141 Hull, Cordell 224 Intelligence: historiography 6–9; professionalism 3, 260, 262, 266; schools of scholarship 2–3, 5; theory 2–3, 9, 267 Ismay, Major-General Sir Hastings 20–2, 28–9, 31, 50–1 ISOS (Intelligence Service Oliver Strachey) see MSS

INDEX 269

ISTD (Inter-Services Topographical Department) 103, 105, 109 J/E (JOAN/ELEANOR) 174, 176–80 JEDBURGH 73–5, 77, 80–3, 87–91, 196, 206, 261, 264 JIC (British Joint Intelligence SubCommittee) 19–22, 27–8, 30–4, 36–7, 51, 105, 140, 205, 207, 217, 221, 227, 229–30, 236–7; see also US JIC Jones, George 142 KENT 162–3, 167 Kindleberger, Charles 133–5, 142 King, Fleet Admiral Ernest J. 10 KLAXON 174 Koenig, General Marie-Pierre 83 LAMDA 239, 241 Langer, William 106–16, 118–19 Lawrence, Oliver 141–3 Lloyd, Stacey 76 Lockhart, Robert Bruce 205 Lord, Walter 60, 204, 208 Maddox, William 75, 78, 193 Magruder, Brigadier General John 219–20, 241–2 Marshall, General George C. 54 Marshall-Cornwall, General James 57 McDonough, Captain John 193 Menzies, Sir Stewart see ‘C’ (Chief of the Secret Service) MEW (Ministry of Economic Warfare) 22, 28, 34, 50, 103, 105, 108–9, 126–8, 130– 1, 134, 141–4, 146 MI5 see Security Service MI6 see SIS (Secret Intelligence Service) MI6(V) see SIS (Secret Intelligence Service), Section V MI19(a) 162 MILWAUKEE FORWARD 173 MIR (Military Intelligence Research) 20, 25 MO (Morale Operations) 113, 169–70, 176, 189, 204–9, 222, 263–4

Montague, Ludwell Lee 220 Morgan, Major-General Frederick 73 Morgan, Shepard 108–9, 112 Morse, Chandler 108, 112, 114, 131, 147 Morton, Desmond 23, 28–9, 35, 51–2 MSS (Most Secret Sources) 190–200, 202– 3, 264–5 Muggeridge, Malcom 37, 45 Murphy, James 193, 195, 201 Nichols, Osgood 204 NKVD (People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs) 222, 264 OG (Operational Groups) 83 OPSAF (Plans and Operations Staff) 170–3 OSS (Office of Strategic Services): archive 9–10; effectiveness 4–5, 88–9, 100–1, 115– 19, 160, 168–70, 179–81, 208, 264; establishment 49–50; fragmentation 59–61, 63–4, 79, 89–90, 110, 168–70, 172, 181, 204–5, 217, 219, 263, 267–8; London mission in general 1–2, 4–5, 56, 160, 167–8, 263, 269; significance 4–5, 266–9 OSSEX 84 264 OVERLORD 70–1, 75–7, 79–85, 87, 89– 91, 110, 112–13, 115, 118, 132, 134–5, 144, 161, 167, 195–7, 207, 264 OWI (Office of War Information) 49, 55, 105, 109, 111, 206–7 PAIR 202–3 Patton, General George 178 Paupert, Major Maxwell 197 Pearson, Norman 193–4 Petrie, Sir David 201 Philby, Kim 195, 223 Phillips, William 52, 56, 71, 90, 106 PID (Political Intelligence Division) 103, 106, 112, 205, 264 Pincus, Nat 141–2 Portal, Marshal of the RAF Viscount 135, 139–40

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PR (Photo Reconnaissance) 23, 138, 144, 264 propaganda 205–8 PROUST 88, 163, 264 PWD (Psychological Warfare Division) 206–8 PWE (Political Warfare Executive) 50–1, 103, 105–6, 108, 113, 116, 162, 205–7, 217 R&A (Research and Analysis) 55, 60, 100– 1, 104–19, 125, 130–1, 145–9, 205–6, 219, 221–4, 237, 262–4, 267 R&D (Research and Development) 88, 173, 179 Robertson, Lieutenant-Colonel T.A. 200–2 Rogers, James Grafton 79, 219 Roosevelt, Franklin 46, 48–50, 52–4, 104, 218, 224–6 Rostow, Walt 131, 133, 136, 143 Rowlandson, Lieutenant-Colonel M.A.W 164 RSHA see GIS RSS (Radio Security Service) 80, 190–2 Rundt, Stefan 166 SA/B 49, 55, 71 SA/G 49, 55 SA/H 49, 55 SAFE HAVEN 238, 243 Salant, William 131 SAS (Special Air Service) 83 Schlesinger, Arthur Jr 147 Schorske, Carl 111–12 SD see GIS Seal, Eric 27–8, 35 Security Service 18, 29, 33–5, 189–92, 194–6, 199–204, 217 Selbourne, Lord 31–3, 35 SFHQ (Special Forces Headquarters) 81– 4, 90, 160, 166 SHAEF (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force) 81–3, 100, 112– 13, 140, 161–6, 174–5, 181, 191, 196–8, 200–3, 206–7, 222, 225, 240, 262, 264, 267 Shepardson, Whitney 51, 75–7, 170, 172

Sherwood, Robert 50, 54 SI (Secret Intelligence) 55, 60–2, 70, 75– 81, 84–91, 106, 110, 125, 145–9, 160–3, 167–81, 193–5, 208, 219, 221, 238–41, 245, 262–5, 267–8 SIGINT (Signals Intelligence) 8, 24–5, 85, 88, 160, 180–1, 190–200, 202–4, 220–1, 243; see also MSS; PAIR; SLU; ULTRA; VENONA SIRA 113, 125, 145–9, 175, 179–80, 262 SIS (Secret Intelligence Service) 18–29, 31–8, 45–7, 51, 53, 55, 57–9, 61–2, 70, 75–80, 84–91, 103, 146, 160–3, 167, 171–4, 176, 180–1, 192, 194–5, 205, 217, 238–44, 246, 261–5, 268; ISLD (Inter-Services Liaison Department) 241, 243–4; Section V 189–90, 192–6, 198–200, 202–4, 217, 240, 262–4, 268 SLU (Special Liaison Unit) 85 Smith, Rae 206, 208 Smith, Walter Bedell 225 SO (Special Operations) 55, 60–2, 70, 72– 5, 77–83, 110, 163–7, 169, 171–2, 179, 195, 207, 221–2, 262–4, 267–8 SOE (Special Operations Executive) 25, 29–34, 36–8, 46, 55, 58–9, 61–2, 70–5, 77–82, 85, 88–91, 163–5, 171, 173, 176, 180–1, 205–6, 217, 222, 261, 263–5, 268 Spaatz, Lieutenant-General Carl 133–6, 141 SPARTAN 75 Speer, Albert 144 Spheres Agreement 72–3 SSU (Strategic Services Unit) 221, 223, 237, 241–4, 246, 263, 265–6 Stalin, Josef 225–6, 244 Stephenson, William 45–8, 260 Stimson, Henry 220 strategic bombing 125–6, 129–31, 143–5; bridges 134–6; British 125–30, 132, 136, 138–40, 144; electricity 144; oil 127–8, 133–44;

INDEX 271

transportation 133–6, 140–1; US 128–32, 138–9 Strong, Major-General George 59, 77, 193 Strong, Major-General Sir Kenneth 85, 200, 225 SUSSEX 57–8, 62, 76–9, 81, 84–91, 161– 2, 174, 195, 261, 264 Sweet-Escott, Bickham 71, 79 Tedder, Marshal of the RAF Lord Arthur 132–6, 140–1 TORCH 196 Toynbee, Arnold 103 Trevor-Roper, Hugh 202 Trohan, Walter 218 Truman, Harry 219–21, 223–4, 228, 244–6 Twenty Committee 191–2, 194 ULTRA 25, 36, 85, 88, 143, 160, 180–1, 191, 195, 202, 264; DECS 202; ISK see MSS US JIC (US military Joint Intelligence Committee) 218, 220–1, 230, 234–7, 242, 244, 246; see also JIC (British Joint Intelligence Sub-Committee) VENONA 240 VICTOR 80, 84 W Board 191 WARWICK/COVENTRY 241–2 White, Colonel Dick 201 Whitney, William 50–2 Williams, Brigadier E.T. 85, 176 Wilson, John 110, 130 Wiseman, William 62–3, 261 X-B see SIS (Secret Intelligence Service), Section V X-2 189, 192–205, 209, 219, 221–3, 238, 240–3, 262, 264–5, 267–8; War Rooms 198–203, 240, 262–3, 267 Zuckerman, Solly 132–7