Hitler's Lost Spy

by Greg Clancy

  So we should ignore the supposed Japanese connection, and other items without documentary substance, and discuss instead the tangible features of what remains. Assessments of Annette, even when seemingly accurate, are also omitted. The neighbourly ex-MI5 lady, Miss Caspers, correctly believed Annette was ‘suspect’. But these assessments are subjective, and, accurate or not, do not constitute appropriate evidence.

  Prior to this we need to remember two features of the lady that are central to her role as a spy:

  Annette had the essentials. She possessed a strong personality, above average intelligence, a determined disposition, a resolute work ethic and knew how to talk around uncomfortable questions.

  She operated under an excellent façade. Her personal history and reason for being in Australia offered little to question. Her life’s experiences may have been unusual for the era, but they injected neatly into her desired presentation.

  These two facts ensured that Annette was well positioned to commence her spying tasks within Australia.

  The Evidence

  There are degrees in the strength of the items of evidence against Annette. Some of the substantiation in determining her conduct is more convincing than other, but less potent, examples. However, the following all merge to produce a clear analysis of Annette’s espionage activities that escalate above arguments that may allege the genuine possibility of coincidence or misinterpretation.

  The Consulate Visits

  In her security interview, the number of occasions she claimed to visit the French Consulate in Sydney ranged from one to three. She reverted to the Swiss Consulate because of the ‘nice’ Mr Hedinger. Annette was a French citizen, although by marriage, and the French Consulate was responsible for her residency queries. The claim by Annette that she was unaware of the Swiss Consulate representing German interests following the outbreak of the war is not plausible. On returning to Madagascar her case was very strangely defended by the Swiss Consul who was also representing German interests in the colony.

  The Coded Perfume

  The perfume error by Annette in her radio broadcast is very difficult to explain. What does make sense is that it was a ‘trial run’ of information to particular listeners.

  Port Stephens

  It was here that security interest in Annette commenced. The surveillance of her, which ultimately yielded a successful result, was triggered by unknown suspicious behaviour during army exercises in the area.

  BHP Steelworks

  Annette’s visits (two that we know of) were uncharacteristic and would have been difficult to justify – even for her. Her observations were clearly destined for people with a greater interest in steel production than she had. It is likely she utilised her status as a broadcaster to assist in facilitating her visit.

  The Manor

  Invited to live at The Manor, Annette’s room was at the rear of the main building allowing visitors to enter her room unnoticed. This was almost unbelievably convenient for the Germans from ships moored in the harbour to pay their clandestine respects. Was the room location just coincidental? For Annette and her visitors, the position of the property, the room entrance and proximity to the harbour foreshores were almost too good to be true.

  The Newcastle Flight

  This follows the pattern of the BHP visits – but more damning – and probably raised Annette’s security alarm status to a higher level. Logic asserts that this trip could not be anything but a foreign spy mission. And who were the men at the airport waiting for Annette? German agents with detailed instructions for the assignment, including the transfer arrangements for the film.

  Kaemper and Marshall

  Both were known to Annette, and both called on her at The Manor. Annette visited Kaemper at his hair salon in the city, yet she denied ever meeting him – or Dinah Marshall. Her tactic of distancing herself from links with Germans not only failed but also revealed her capacity for lying.

  Other Germans

  Annette’s associations with other Germans, particularly Nazis, are well established. The visits to The Manor by Germans from the merchant ships pose interesting questions with only speculative answers. But whatever the conjecture or assumptions, the visits cast Annette in a very different light to the woman who broadcast on public radio. She knew Skersk and Koehler, and why was her name in Durkop’s diary?

  The Payments from Abroad

  The assertion by Annette that the regular payments credited to her Commonwealth Bank account were from an estate not associated with her immediate family, offers little credibility. The impracticalities of such an arrangement dictates that the funds received were not as she described. When examined from the foundation of Annette’s questionable pursuits, the payments have all the trademarks of German intelligence remittances to overseas agents. However an investigation tracing the payment source would not yield any more than the remitting bank’s name, the bank’s branch and the name of the account. Because the name of the bank account used by German intelligence would be untraceable, Annette could describe the payments any way she chose. She elected for an explanation that was totally inconsistent with the legal practices of the day.

  The Suicide

  Annette’s final act was also a statement. We may wonder today why an intelligent, controlled and seemingly balanced young woman would end her life by jumping out of a window. This was more than simply protecting her husband – in fact, she claimed she wanted to divorce him in 1939. The power of the dynamics labouring on her, at that time, was much greater. In her mind, the defeat of Germany meant it was now ‘game over’ time, and she knew exactly what she was doing. The past deemed the present to be unliveable and the future, bleak. The war, reasoned by the Nazis to be the ultimate battle between good and evil – between National Socialism and Communism – had been lost. The downfall was so immense that for many people, subjected to skilful and intense propaganda for so long, it blacked out any prospect of returning to an earlier and more peaceful existence.

  It was the ultimate failure, and when Hitler blamed the German people for the catastrophic decisions that he alone had dictated, it is likely that Annette believed some of that blame belonged to her.

  In her mind, the likelihood that she could re-invent herself after the war barely existed. When so much of her existence had been funnelled into one prevailing cause, opportunities for salvation were limited or non-existent. Her family and friendship connections were very narrow and the nature of her services to the Third Reich – secrecy – probably precluded any immediate post-war assistance from the remnants of her former intelligence networks.

  Collectively, the above elements produce a level of evidence that is overwhelmingly conclusive in asserting that Annette was a foreign spy. While absolute proof does not exist, it really doesn’t need to.

  Annette’s ‘trial’ ends convincingly. The jury is of one voice – ‘guilty’. But guilty of what? Could she be guilty of nothing more than conducting a masquerade to assist, as she viewed it, a just cause? Maybe it was an elaborate masquerade, but it was one that assisted in creating a national security danger to the country in which she chose to reside – and one that had previously provided the Japanese with information for their future plan to invade Australia.

  What volume and value of security material Annette managed to collect and pass on before the war we will never know. Realistically, not a great deal. However, the important turning point for her spying role was scheduled for the beginning of the war, by which time her established testimonials were expected to shield her future mission. When this occurred, she would have been formally utilised for the German war effort, and possibly that of the Japanese. Fortunately, when that day arrived, and Hitler’s troops stormed across the Polish border, Annette’s suspect activities were too important to ignore, and her greatest spying coup – broadcasting – disappeared when her voice was removed from the airwaves.

  Annette Wagner played a role, however small, in the complex geo-political conspiracies of the late
1930s. Her life in Australia was dominated by a comprehensive strategy of deceit. Behind her successful entry into broadcasting was a premeditated campaign to carefully engineer a foundation of community trust which would be gently eased into schemes of further deception – all on behalf of the nation’s enemies. Any gain she achieved would have been an Allied loss. She was the true enemy within.

  Yet, when I recall the indelible image of Jack Clancy’s silent and intense reminiscing of Annette, there is the prompting of a new element in the hunt to understand her individuality. I see Jack’s broad smile, alert eyes and gently nodding head, while his attention was absorbed on a lady and a past era. Perhaps then, regardless of how I have described Annette and her motives, there has been an unintended omission of the lady’s human ingredients experienced only by those who were there – a curious attraction, an unavoidable admiration, an engaging charm and a reserved fascination, all drawn from the aura of the mysterious Annette Wagner.

  Epilogue

  In May 2013 my wife and I visited a relative living in a retirement home. Jean Rheubin, in addition to being my wife’s auntie, was also a very close family friend. We had previously visited Jean on many occasions, but for me, if not for my wife, this visit would be very different indeed.

  At this time, my research into Annette Wagner was well advanced but I had omitted, in the gathering of material on the lady, a critical factor in any historical study of that era – interviewing those who had lived through the times. People with such experience may offer source information, however unusual, that may assist in appreciating vital aspects of the subject under review.

  While sitting with Jean, my mind unintentionally wandered back to my research and it occurred to me that as Jean was born in 1916 she was only four years younger than Annette. The maths came quickly – Jean would have been twenty-three in 1939, and more importantly, the mental alertness of that vibrant young woman appeared to have changed little from the lady I was visiting. Jean’s speech, memory and response speed were exceptional for her ninety-seven years and I then detected a measure of controlled excitement, belated as it was, at the prospect of attaining a second surviving link to Annette.

  ‘Jean, do you remember a lady who conducted programs on the radio in 1938 and 1939 by the name of Annette Wagner?’ I asked. I spoke clearly and slowly, repeating ‘Wagner’ in both the English and German pronunciations. Jean looked ahead, thought for a few seconds, then replied ‘no’. I should have known that for Jean, ‘no’ meant exactly that, but I tried to squeeze something out that wasn’t there. ‘She was on the ABC and 2GB and 2CH and 2UW…’ I looked for a flicker of recollection, but nothing. I then tried Annette’s alias.

  ‘Did you ever hear the name Renee Laval on the radio?’ I added. ‘Oh, yes, I remember her’ Jean replied quickly and confidently, ‘she had a large audience’. But had Jean really remembered her? Seventy four years is a long time and any memory loss or distortion over that period could be forgiven. ‘Do you remember what she did on the radio?’ I asked. ‘Fashion’, Jean fired back, ‘she had a fashion program. I would come home from work and listen to the six o’clock news and then she would come on’.

  Jean had made the recollection and I knew she was right. After Jack Clancy this was my first living link with Annette who had almost vanished unheard of into an historical void, and the sense of realism of her story jumped to a new high. Later I told Jean why I was interested in Renee Laval, telling her she was a German spy. ‘NO’ replied Jean with a look of amazement. I am sure she did not believe me.

  Hitler’s lost spy had been remembered by one who was there, but not as a spy. She was recalled as the nice lady on the radio with a large audience who discussed women’s fashions – and I preferred to leave it that way.

  Appendix:

  The Japanese Empire – Australia Included?

  The Invasion Debate

  In his book Was there a Battle for Australia? (2006), the former Australian War Memorial historian, Dr Peter Stanley, has written:

  The attack-on-Australia option was dead by the end of January 1942, before the fall of Singapore.

  The meaning of the statement could not be clearer, but not everyone interested in the question of Japanese wartime intentions toward Australia agrees with Dr Stanley. It remains one of the enduring debates from the Pacific War, and the divided opinion revolves around the word ‘plan’ . What precisely is meant by a ‘plan’, and how is the word defined in the context of a proposed Japanese invasion in 1942?

  The foundation of Dr Stanley’s statement rests on the reasoning that a Japanese plan for the invasion of Australia, formally constructed and appropriately authorised, has never been located. But this is a very narrow perspective when allowing for the huge and exceptionally complex Japanese military undertaking in the Pacific and Southeast Asia following the attack on Pearl Harbor. We will see that Dr Stanley’s definitive statement is very fragile, and it ignores evidence that pushes the invasion question well away from the apparent inability to locate relevant archival material.

  A careful appraisal of Dr Stanley’s statement reveals a conclusion that is very curious, even astonishing. An extension of this wording would read:

  There was not any plan for the Japanese to invade Australia after January 1942. We cannot locate any hard evidence, so therefore there was not a plan.

  There is a lapse of reasoning here. A ship may have sunk in a particular area and searchers cannot find the wreck. According to the logic of Dr Stanley’s statement, the ship didn’t sink. This serious flaw in historical evaluation can be readily validated by the available contradicting and overwhelming evidence. It will be seen that Dr Stanley’s assertion should be more akin to:

  There is not any confirmed written archival evidence supporting the Emperor’s authorisation for a Japanese plan to invade Australia. Without this approval, the invasion question requires an in-depth consideration of all other known factors to obtain a balanced view on this subject.

  A component of the invasion debate is caught up in the totality of the Australia–Japan relationship prior to World War II. The war, of course, transformed this relationship, but while the bombing of Darwin and Broome, the submarine raid on Sydney Harbour and the shelling of Newcastle are all well documented, the question of Japan’s broader military intentions towards Australia remains controversial.

  To the invasion question there has now been added a previously unexplored element – a single unheralded incident that was barely noticed at the time – Annette Wagner’s aerial photographic excursion to Newcastle. Knowing the motives of her mission presents a new instalment in the question of the Japanese intention for the southern continent.

  Hashida’s Diary Giveaway

  In addition to the military facts Major Hashida accumulated during his extensive Australian visit, his agenda included instructions to commence the exodus of Japanese civilians from Australia. Hirohito’s decision to go to war with the West had been delicately and subtly passed down to his army and navy chiefs, and it was time for planning the return to Japan of embassy and trading company staff and their families. Hashida’s diary noted:

  21/2/40 A great number of Japanese women and children will depart on the 21st by the ‘SUWA MARU’ to Japan. Only Mitsui’s stand firm.

  We may only guess at why Mitsui was not completely cooperative on the ‘return’ issue, but it appears most other trading firms complied. Had Military Intelligence previously speculated on the one-way movement of Japanese civilians, (and it would have), the capture of Hashida’s diary confirmed that Japan was destined, in the short term, for a war beyond Asia’s boundaries – a conflict that would necessarily include Australia.

  Japan’s Strike South

  Before examining the invasion debate further, we need to briefly review Japan’s naval expansion and Pacific territorial aspirations in the years between World War I and World War II. This was kick-started when the Japanese navy occupied the German Pacific territories (the Marshall, Mariana and Carol
ine island groups), following the commencement of hostilities in 1914.

  The mandate from the League of Nations would transform the potential of Japanese naval influence in the Pacific with the addition of the vast ocean territory now under its control. Previously developed theoretical plans for war with the West, and a naval confrontation with the United States in particular, were dusted off and the new Pacific advantage became a cornerstone in the strategy for the future expected victory over the United States Pacific fleet.

  Contrary to the League’s demand that the previously German-controlled islands of the South West Pacific remain open, Japan effectively halted foreign visitors and the world remained oblivious to the military expansion on the islands. This designed exclusion had been specifically banned under the mandate, but limiting the shipping in the islands to Japanese vessels ensured that all passengers could be vetted and controlled prior to leaving the shipping ports of origin in Japan.

  One American to beat the odds on reaching the islands was the writer Willard Price. By the mid-1930s no Westerner had been granted permission to visit the mandated islands since the Japanese occupation began in 1914. Through some minor trickery of his own, Price managed to land on several of the islands, and although incessantly accompanied by authorities, noted military preparations underway that were strictly prohibited by the League of Nations. In his book detailing the journey ( Japan’s Islands of Mystery, published in 1944), Price noted the reason for Australia’s apprehension following the Japanese absorption of the Micronesian islands: