Operation Mincemeat
Page 13
Bevan wrote to Nye, asking him to have the letter typed up and then to sign it in nonwaterproof ink, since a waterproof signature might raise suspicions. “Your signature in ink might40 become illegible owing to contact with sea water and consequently it would be advisable to type your full title and name underneath the actual signature.”
Bevan had one final tweak. “General Wilson is referred to41 three times as ‘Jumbo,’ ‘Jumbo Wilson’ and ‘Wilson.’ I wonder whether it would not be more plausible to refer to him on the first occasion as ‘Jumbo Wilson’ and ‘Jumbo’ thereafter.”
Ewen Montagu, naval intelligence officer, lawyer, angler, and the principal organizer of Operation Mincemeat.
Charles Cholmondeley, the RAF officer seconded to MI5 whose “corkscrew mind” first alighted on the idea of using a dead body to deceive the Germans.
Sir Bernard Spilsbury, the senior pathologist at the Home Office and pioneer of forensics who knew more about death than any man alive.
Bentley Purchase, the cheerful coroner of St. Pancras.
Iris Montagu, wife of Ewen.
Admiral John Godfrey, the irascible director of naval intelligence and model for “M” in the Bond novels, whose “Trout Memo,” written in 1939, inspired the deception plan.
Ian Fleming, wartime naval officer and the creator of James Bond, seen here in Room 39 of the Admiralty, the nerve center of British naval intelligence.
Ivor Montagu, filmmaker, communist, Table Tennis pioneer, and Soviet spy, with his wife, Hell.
Ewen Montagu at work in Room 13, c. 1943.
Cartoon by Robert Bartlett depicting Ewen Montagu in Room 13. Montagu tended to shout on the scrambler telephone; the operator is telling him to hush.
Jean Leslie, the attractive MI5 secretary whose photograph would be used to depict “Pam,” the fictional fiancée of “William Martin.”
The staff of Section 17M in Room 13 in the Admiralty basement: Ewen Montagu, front row, seated second from right; Joan Saunders, back row, third from right; Juliette Ponsonby, fourth from right; Patricia Trehearne, second from right.
Glyndwr Michael, dressed as Major William Martin, on the Hackney mortuary gurney. His clenched hand and discolored upper face are evidence of phosphorus poisoning. The figure on the right is PC Glyndon May, the coroner’s officer.
Charles Fraser-Smith, the inventor who designed the canister to transport the body.
Cholmondeley and Montagu posing outside the van at Langbank on the River Clyde, at dawn on Sunday, April 18, 1943, a few hours before delivering the body to the submarine.
The racing driver Jock Horsfall, enjoying a cup of tea in the back of the van taking the body to Scotland. “William Martin” is inside the canister.
Salvador Augustus “Don” Gómez-Beare, assistant naval attaché, First World War flying ace and agent-runner.
The crew of HM Submarine Seraph posing in the conning tower. Lieutenant Bill Jewell is at the helm (left); his second-in-command, First Lieutenant David Scott, is standing, center.
Nye replied: “I referred to him variously42 intentionally (and committed a couple of—almost—grammatical errors) so as not to be guilty of too meticulous a letter. In fact, in dictating letters, which one normally does, these things occur and I think to leave them in makes it more realistic.” At the last moment, Nye dropped the joke about Monty. “I would never have written43 such a thing. … It wouldn’t be me. It might have struck a false note and, if so, did one really gain anything by taking such a risk?” The general toyed with a joke of his own: “P.S. We saw you on the cinema44 the other night and Colleen thought you looked uncommonly like Haile Selassie!” General Alexander did look a little like the Ethiopian emperor, and Nye thought this remark “might help to strike45 the right note of informality.” On the other hand, General Nye had no sense of humor and was enough of a realist to know it. His final letter was entirely joke-free. He sent it back with a note and a flourish: “Now I hope your friends46 will ensure delivery.” It was, in Montagu’s words, “a truly magnificent letter.”47
Telephone: Whitehall 9400
Chief of the Imperial General Staff
War Office
Whitehall
London S.W.1.
23rd April 1943
Personal and Most Secret
My Dear Alex,
I am taking advantage of sending you a personal letter by hand of one of Mountbatten’s officers, to give you the inside history of our recent exchanges of cables about Mediterranean operations and their attendant cover plans. You may have felt our decisions were somewhat arbitrary, but I can assure you that the C.O.S. Committee gave the most careful consideration both to your recommendation and to Jumbo’s.
We have had recent information that the Boche have been reinforcing and strengthening their defences in Greece and Crete, and C.I.G.S. felt that our forces for the assault were insufficient. It was agreed by the Chiefs of Staff that the 5th Division should be reinforced by one Brigade Group for the assault on the beach south of CAPE ARAXOS and that a similar reinforcement should be made for 56th Division at KALAMATA. We are earmarking the necessary forces and shipping.
Jumbo Wilson had proposed to select SICILY as the cover target for ‘HUSKY,’ but we had already chosen it as cover for operation ‘BRIMSTONE.’ The C.O.S. Committee went into the whole question exhaustively again and came to the conclusion that in view of the preparations in Algeria, the amphibious training which will be taking place on the Tunisian coast and the heavy bombardment which will be put down to neutralise the Sicilian airfields, we should stick to our plan for making it the cover for ‘BRIMSTONE’—indeed, we stand a very good chance of making him think we will go for Sicily—it is an obvious objective and one about which he must be nervous. On the other hand, they felt there wasn’t much hope of persuading the Boche that the extensive preparations in the Eastern Mediterranean were also directed at Sicily. For this reason they have told Wilson his cover plan should be something nearer the spot i.e. the Dodecanese. Since our relations with Turkey are now so obviously closer, the Italians must be pretty apprehensive about these islands.
I imagine you will agree with these arguments. I know you will have your hands more than full at the moment and you haven’t much chance of discussing future operations with Eisenhower. But if, by any chance, you do want to support Wilson’s proposal, I hope you will let us know soon, because we can’t delay much longer.
I am very sorry we weren’t able to meet your wishes about the new commander of the Guards Brigade. Your own nominee was down with a bad attack of the ’flu and not likely to be really fit for another few weeks. No doubt, however, you know Forster personally; he has done extremely well in command of a brigade at home, and is, I think, the best fellow available.
You must be about as fed up as we are with the whole question of war medals and ‘Purple Hearts.’ We all agree with you that we don’t want to offend our American friends, but there is a good deal more to it than that. If our troops who happen to be serving in one particular theatre are to get extra decorations merely because the Americans happen to be serving there too, we will be faced with a good deal of discontent among those troops fighting elsewhere perhaps just as bitterly—perhaps more so. My own feeling is that we should thank the Americans for their kind offer, but say firmly it would cause too many anomalies and we are sorry we can’t accept. But it is on the agenda for the next Military Members Meeting, and I hope you will have a decision very soon.
Best of Luck
Yours ever,
Archie Nye
General the Hon Sir Harold R.L.G. Alexander,
G.C.B., C.S.I, D.S.O., M.C.
Headquarters, 18th Army Group
The letter twanged every chord. It indicated that there was not one assault planned, but two: General Wilson’s army under Montgomery would attack two points in Greece under the code name “Husky;” General Alexander, under Eisenhower’s command, was preparing to launch a separate attack in the western Mediterranean
, code-named “Brimstone.” The cover target for this latter operation was Sicily. The letter openly stated the intention to deceive the Germans into believing an attack on Sicily was imminent, pointing out that amphibious training in North Africa and the bombardment of Sicilian airfields would tend to support that impression. The training and bombing were, of course, preparations for the real attack on Sicily. “Husky” was the genuine code name for that invasion; if the Germans came across any allusion to Husky in the future, having read Nye’s letter, they would, with luck, assume that this referred to the attack on Greece.
Nye’s letter hinted at a second assault in the western Mediterranean but did not say where the fictional Operation Brimstone would be aimed. Nor did it explain why such an important letter was being carried by this particular officer. There was nothing to explain what Major Martin was doing in North Africa, on the eve of a major invasion. A second letter was called for. Since Martin was on the staff of Combined Operations, Colonel Neville of the Royal Marines, who had been consulted on Major Martin’s uniform, drafted a letter to be signed by Lord Louis Mountbatten, chief of Combined Operations, and addressed it to Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham, commander in chief in the Mediterranean. Cunningham was Eisenhower’s naval deputy, a hard-grained Scot with red-rimmed eyes who had been in uniform ever since the Boer War. Like Alexander, his name and seniority would be well known to the Germans; unlike Alexander, there was nothing smooth and refined about Admiral Cunningham, who preferred the cut and thrust of battle to the comforts and trappings of high rank. His favorite expression, when things seemed to be going too well, was “It’s too velvety-arsed and Rolls Royce48 for me.” The letter clearly indicated that Martin, a trusted expert on landing craft, was coming out to help Admiral Cunningham with preparations for the next amphibious assault.
In reply quote: S.R. 1924/43
Combined Operations Headquarters
1A Richmond Terrace
Whitehall, S.W.1
21st April
Dear Admiral of the Fleet,
I promised VCIGS that Major Martin would arrange with you for the onward transmission of the letter he has with him for General Alexander. It is very urgent and very ‘hot’ and as there are some remarks in it that could not be seen by others in the War Office, it could not go by signal. I feel sure that you will see that it goes on safely and without delay.
I think you will find Martin the man you want. He is quiet and shy at first, but he really knows his stuff. He was more accurate than some of us about the probable run of events at Dieppe and he has been well in on the experiments with the latest barges and equipment which took place in Scotland.
Let me have him back, please, as soon as the assault is over. He might bring some sardines with him—they are ‘on points’ here!
Yours sincerely,
Louis Mountbatten
Admiral of the Fleet Sir A.B. Cunningham G.C.B.,
D.S.O.
Commander in Chief Mediterranean
Allied Forces HQ
Algiers
The most crucial element of the letter was the last paragraph, clearly indicating that the assault on which Martin would advise was to be on the home of the sardine. Operation Brimstone, therefore, must be aimed at Sardinia. It was, Montagu admitted, a “laboured”49 witticism. Like many Britons, Montagu found the German sense of humor somewhat leaden. “I thought that that sort of joke50 would appeal to the Germans.”
The Germans might or might not be amused, but would they be taken in? This second letter contained some dangerous flaws. It appeared to indicate that Mountbatten knew the contents of Nye’s letter which, in reality, was exceedingly unlikely. Would the chief of Combined Operations have needed to explain why the information was not being sent by cable? The sardines joke smelled fishy. Louis Mountbatten was a member of the royal family and hardly constrained by rationing. If anyone could get sardines whenever he wanted them, it was surely Lord Louis. The reference looked dangerously like an artificial attempt to crowbar the word “sardines” into the letter.
There was one final letter to add to the cache. This had no military significance whatsoever and was included, literally, to make weight. If Martin was carrying only two letters, he would most probably have put them in an inside pocket for safety. But in that case, they might be overlooked by the Spanish or Germans, as had happened with the body of Lieutenant Turner in 1942: “Papers actually on the body51 would run a grave risk of never being found at all due to the Roman Catholic prejudice against tampering with corpses.” An attaché case would be much harder to miss, but if Martin were to carry a briefcase, then he would need something bulkier than a couple of letters to put in it. Hilary Saunders, the House of Commons librarian and the husband of Montagu’s colleague Joan Saunders, had just written a pamphlet on the history of the Commandos, a tub-thumping story of derring-do to boost public morale. It was decided that in addition to the other letters, Martin’s attaché case would contain proofs of this worthy book, together with another letter from Mountbatten, asking General Eisenhower to write a blurb for the American edition.
In reply quote: S.R. 1989/43
Combined Operations Headquarters
1A Richmond Terrace
Whitehall, S.W.1
22nd April
Dear General,
I am sending you herewith two copies of the pamphlet which has been prepared describing the activities of my Command; I have also enclosed copies of the photographs which are to be included in the pamphlet.
The book has been written by Hilary St. George Saunders, the English author of Battle of Britain, Bomber Command, and other pamphlets which have had a great success both in this country and in yours.
The edition which is to be published in the States has already enjoyed pre-publication sales of nearly a million and a half, and I understand the American authorities will distribute the book widely throughout the U.S. Army.
I understand from the British Information Service in Washington that they would like a ‘message’ from you for use in the advertising for the pamphlet, and that they have asked you direct, through Washington, for such a message.
I am sending the proofs by hand of my Staff Officer, Major W. Martin of the Royal Marines. I need not say how honoured we shall all be if you will give such a message. I fully realise what a lot is being asked of you at a time when you are so fully occupied with infinitely more important matters. But I hope you may find a few minutes’ time to provide the pamphlet with an expression of your invaluable approval so that it will be read widely and given every chance to bring its message of co-operation to our two peoples.
We are watching your splendid progress with admiration and pleasure and all wish we could be with you.
You may speak freely to Major Martin in this as well as any other matters since he has my entire confidence.
Yours sincerely,
Louis Mounbatten
General Dwight Eisenhower
Allied Forces H.Q.
Algiers
Both letters were written on the same typewriter and signed by Mountbatten himself, who was told the letters were needed for a secret mission. The only element now missing was the seal of approval from on high.
At ten thirty in the morning on April 13, the Chiefs of Staff Committee gathered for its seventy-sixth meeting. Presided over by the chief of the Imperial General Staff, the first sea lord, and the chief of the Air Staff, the committee included eight other senior officers from the different services. Item 10 on the agenda was Operation Mincemeat. The letters were approved, and Lieutenant General Sir Hastings “Pug” Ismay was told to inform Johnnie Bevan of the decision, with instructions to make an appointment with the prime minister in order to obtain final approval for the operation to commence. Ismay dropped Churchill a note, advising him that “the Chiefs of Staff have approved,52 subject to your consent, a somewhat startling cover plan in connection with HUSKY. May the Controlling officer see you for five minutes within the next day or two, to explain
what is proposed?” The note came back with “yes” scrawled in Churchill’s hand. “10.15 on Thursday.”
Two days later, Bevan found himself sitting on Winston Churchill’s bed and explaining Operation Mincemeat to a prime minister wearing his pajamas and dressing gown and puffing on a large cigar. Large wine cellars that had once served a stately home opposite St. James’s Park had been transformed into a fortified network of chambers, tunnels, offices, and dormitories known as the Cabinet War Rooms, the operational nerve center. Above the War Rooms was the No. 10 Annexe, including the private flat where Churchill usually slept. Britain’s wartime prime minister tended to work late, whisky in hand, and rise at a commensurate hour.
Bevan had arrived for the meeting in full uniform, at ten o’clock sharp. “To my surprise I was ushered53 into his bedroom in the annexe where I found him in bed smoking a cigar. He was surrounded with papers and black and red cabinet boxes.” Churchill loved deception plans, the more startling the better, and relished the seamy, glamorous trade of espionage. “In the higher ranges of Secret Service54 work, the actual facts of many cases were in every respect equal to the most fantastic inventions of romance and melodrama,” Churchill wrote after the war.