by Mary Horlock
Wilkinson was impressed and circulated the manuscript to other members of the War Office, and to the Committee of Imperial Defence, the Home Office and the Air Ministry.
Joe had been writing it in earnest for several months and researching it for even longer, and he had been doing so right here, in the Imperial War Museum. Maureen had wondered where her father was always disappearing to and now I am able to offer an explanation. He had a secret love, a new obsession – and her name was camouflage.
It had been over a decade since Joe had been given his first tour of the museum stores by Ernest Blaikley. Back then his sole objective was to make his paintings more authentic, to have every detail real and right. But now he was looking for every instance where reality had been made to lie.
‘I told Blaikley I was making a study of camouflage and thus asked to see all the related objects; from the netting and painted screens, to the observation posts and sniper’s capes. I knew that much had been salvaged from the Front and not just from the British side.’2 Joe wanted first to acquire a broad sweep of knowledge, because after that he would dive into the detail. He asked to see books, pamphlets, reports, and most important of all, all those aerial photographs that Blaikley himself had catalogued after Armistice. ‘Although I had done no flying I was very familiar with the landscape viewed from heights as I climbed regularly in Scotland, and had spent time in the Pyrenees.’3 Joe wanted to look again at the world from above and try to understand it.
If Blaikley was initially surprised by Joe’s new project, he was quick to lend his support. By 1935 most people accepted that another war was coming. Throughout the 1930s the theory of a ‘knock-out blow’ had taken hold, with writers predicting an air assault of enemy bombers. There would be none of the atrophying siege-style battles of the last war, fought on some distant land over the water. It would happen quickly, striking at major cities, disabling the industrial areas and docklands. Of course London was the obvious target: the greatest city in the world but also the most vulnerable, containing one fifth of the British population. So what could be done? There was a clamour for more air power as a counter force, and the RAF was being expanded, but Joe wasn’t alone in arguing that the best defence wasn’t simply offence.
It wasn’t too late to start hiding things, even very large things. In the last war Joe had shown himself adept at personal camouflage. Hiding one man was very different to hiding a factory or even a city. Nonetheless, he was going to try.
He began writing Camouflage and Air Defence as a call to arms, but not in the conventional sense. Britain couldn’t match Germany in fighting forces – the expansion of the Luftwaffe was becoming the stuff of legend – but he hoped to show that there were other ways to fight. Camouflage could be a powerful defensive weapon. It could surprise the enemy, offer greater secrecy to troop movements at home and in the field, and ‘aid the protection of the civilian population and maintain their morale under strain’.4
This latter part was crucial. Joe was thinking about urban centres, docks and factories, our vital resources. He was thinking about home and civil defence. Camouflage in the last war had had a very different focus. Now, with the ‘increasing power of the aerial offensive and mechanisation of modern armies’,5 it was vital to develop new strategies and materials. He admitted to be looking into ‘a new type of camouflage prepared as a permanent feature of the building . . . an accessory ready for immediate fixture’.6 He wanted to create fake landscapes to hide the real ones. It had to be bold, ambitious and different, since all previous methods were known to the enemy and therefore redundant, or only possibly useful as decoys: ‘old methods should be used in a subtle manner to mislead and decoy’.7 Yes, right from the start, ‘development of false areas and decoy vital points’ would be key to drawing enemy fire. ‘An enemy bombing fleet confronted with three possible objectives where one was anticipated must attack all if there is to be any assurance of success.’8 It wasn’t just about hiding, but creating doubt and diffusing every threat.
Camouflage and Air Defence opens with an explanation of the principles and practicalities of creating good structural covers, with chapters 1 and 2 dealing with, first, shadows (and how to lose them) and then colour. A lesson in ‘the Perspective of Shadows’ is clearly indebted to Solomon J. Solomon. Joe states any man-made structure is betrayed by the shadows it makes. ‘The object of constructive camouflage, therefore, is to mislead the enemy by concealing the true shape and position of a vital point, losing it in its surroundings.’9 The camoufleur must focus on toning down and blending in, to avoid ‘false’ or ‘betraying shadow’. Joe reminds us time and again: ‘there are no actual lines in nature – only tones’10 and in any scheme, the camoufleur must consider not just ‘the bombing airman’ but ‘a skilled aerial photograph reader of the enemy Intelligence’.11
Chapter 2 addresses the problem of colour – and it is a problem. Joe warns about past camouflage methods and in particular the use of paint. ‘Nothing could be more helpful to the diving bomber than obviously false colour values or the use of some variations of the old striped or daubed roof camouflage painting.’12 He makes the point that old camouflage patterns could only work ‘for guns in the field as they are moved from place to place’,13 but are largely useless when considering static sites. He also shows examples of German camouflage, pointing out that the ‘Germans wisely never depended on painted design alone unless the object was movable such as a gun’.14
How then to hide? Chapter 3 is devoted exclusively to the smokescreen. Joe thought smokescreens had huge potential (as indeed would Winston Churchill). Smokescreens could be summoned quickly to obscure large areas – ideal for cities or industrial areas. (There was also a precedent as the French had used smokescreens over Paris in the last war to good effect). Time and again, Joe stresses that complete cover isn’t essential: ‘The ideal camouflage system for concealing vital points and misleading the enemy would be a combination of constructive camouflage and slight smoke screen.’15
He wants to make it clear that concealment is not everything, and placing too great an emphasis on hiding things misses another opportunity: that is ‘misdirection’.
Chapter 4 tackles this in more detail, looking at the creation of ‘false areas’ or decoys, and also ‘the camouflage of natural features’. Joe considers various ways to throw an enemy pilot off course. If, for example, the pilot was working off a map and looking for a particular river or area of woodland to guide him towards his target, it might be easier and cheaper to obscure that feature than the actual target. The message comes across loud and clear: much could be done to ‘blind’ and ‘mislead’ enemy planes. It might not prevent an attack altogether, but it could cause vital delays and wastage of bombs. He examines specific examples, such as aerodromes and military depots, discusses methods of changing orientation, hiding roads and creating ‘false woods’, making fake roads out of canvas, or altering the course of a railroad with a dummy junction and false tracks.
It’s understandable that Joe devotes so much time to civil or home defence as this is where he saw an urgent need, but he also looks further. In another chapter he addresses the problems with the Army in the field, that is artillery, kit and even uniform. His advice is grounded in his own battle experience. ‘The writer suggests that the present infantry pack is too regular and the flat top, being almost horizontal, catches the light.’16 He reminds everyone that ‘mathematical accuracy’ could be ‘very conspicuous’, which is a clear lesson learned from the trenches.
There is more – so much more. Camouflage and Air Defence starts off as a call to arms but becomes an exhaustive study, complete with photographs and diagrams, references to past examples and future predictions. Joe is brimming over with ideas, yet concedes that his research is incomplete. He submits the manuscript as a matter of urgency, and doesn’t draw any positive conclusions. He makes it clear that there has been a long period of apathy, and whatever sophisticated methods the British now devise, the Germans will be do
ing the same, or possibly more and better.
‘The German painter has never been distinguished in the history of the fine arts as a creative artist, but he was always outstanding for attention to technical details, painstaking research, the earnest study of visual laws and the scientific aspects of this craft. These are the qualities most necessary to the military designer.’17
Britain has to raise her game, before it is too late.
Wilkinson took notice, and when he circulated Camouflage and Air Defence the response was positive. Brigadier Arthur Sayer, president of the Royal Engineers and Signals Board, was uncharacteristically enthusiastic. He judged much of the book ‘sound and valuable’,18 as did Colonel John Turner, director of Works and Buildings at the Air Ministry. As the man responsible for Britain’s expanding airfields, Turner was already agitating for a national camouflage scheme, so Joe’s suggestions were music to his ears.
In July 1935 the Home Office had issued its first set of proposals for Air Raid Precautions and it was agreed that camouflage could be used passively. Yet there was no unified policy. Joe felt his ideas were right on target, and they were, only this was now a problem.
Wilkinson summoned Joe to his offices on Horse Guards Avenue and asked him outright about his plans for this manuscript. Joe explained that he was busy revising and finessing it in order to send it to publishers. He believed that Camouflage and Air Defence would make ‘a successful if controversial book’,19 and could even be serialised in the newspapers.
Wilkinson was aghast.
‘But you simply cannot publish. A great many of your ideas may be used. What if it fell into enemy hands?’
Joe didn’t have an answer. Had he naively imagined that he could serve the national interest, find a new audience and make some money? Wilkinson immediately made it clear that this would not be the case. The copies in circulation would remain confidential, to be used only by approved personnel.
Wilkinson consoled Joe with the assurance he had done them all a great service, and that there was no doubt many of his ideas would be used.
This gave Joe the opportunity he needed.
‘Well then, if my ideas on camouflage are going to prove so useful, might I suggest that I myself could also be useful?’
It was what he’d hoped for. Camouflage and Air Defence was a thorough study and a call to action, but it was also a job application.
Nothing happened as quickly as he hoped. In the summer of 1936 the Committee of Imperial Defence approved the installation of a defensive barrage of 450 balloons across London’s skyline. Such singular initiatives highlighted the desperate need to take action elsewhere. How to defend cities and vital sites against the threat of bombing, and what would be done by whom, would soon become critical questions. It wasn’t until October 1936 that a Camouflage Sub-Committee was established, its aim to develop new methods for ‘passive defence’.20 It would be another year before the newly formed Camouflage Research Establishment (CRE) came into being. It was only then that Joe was finally called for interview.
Based at Farnborough in Hampshire and headed by Francis Wyatt, now a lieutenant colonel, the CRE was tasked with hiding factories and the like – what became known as ‘static camouflage’. Having been director of Camouflage in the last war, Wyatt had a practical outlook and ‘was not obsessed with the idea that camouflage can be indiscriminately applied to every building’.21 Whatever his memories of Solomon J. Solomon, he accepted that artists were invaluable in developing good strategies. The good camoufleur needed ‘a trained facility for painting and drawing’ and had to be adept at ‘translating and memorizing that appearance of ground as seen from the air in terms of colour, tone and texture’. Furthermore, a bit of ‘imagination and ingenuity’ were essential for creating designs that were practical and economical.22
Wyatt was impressed by Joe on paper and in person: here was a man who possessed the right skills and knowledge and had war experience, but when called back a second time before a panel, Joe’s deafness let him down. The room had a terrible echo and he couldn’t hear the questions.
Rejection was frustrating, but it wasn’t the end. After all, you don’t hear camouflage. Joe was determined to find another way in.
In the early months of 1938 he was summoned to the Royal Engineers and Signals Board (RESB) in Melbourne House in London’s Aldwych. Here he found an eccentric collection of characters and departments, headed by Brigadier Sayer, a famously austere figure who never wore an overcoat, even on the coldest of days. Sayer’s staff were both devoted to and terrified of him, and amongst their number was a Scot named Charles Le Breton-Simmons. Simmons had served in Egypt, Gallipoli and France and was now in charge of the new Camouflage Section. (He was, in fact, its only member.) He was also as deaf as Joe, so it’s difficult to imagine how the interview began, but it concluded with Simmons appointing Joe as his ‘camouflage draughtsman’ on a salary of £288 per annum.
Nancy was relieved to learn her husband was finally employed, but for Joe it wasn’t enough. He found himself making detailed copies of old camouflage sketches, writing up notes on ‘how to garnish nets’ and replicating camouflage patterns to be applied to bits of artillery. There was much repetition and no innovation – exactly the thing he had warned against in Camouflage and Air Defence. He clashed with Le Breton-Simmons over this, but Simmons reminded Joe that they could only work within their resources. It was time, Joe decided, to push all of their ‘resources’.
And time was drawing on. There was an ever-growing list of ‘vulnerable’ and ‘vital’ sites in need of attention, everything from factories and commercial oil installations, to wireless and cable systems. As 1938 advanced, Hitler’s ambitions grew: Austria was annexed, triggering the Sudetenland Crisis. Chamberlain’s attempts at appeasement did little to allay a growing sense of anxiety. CRE began testing out different camouflage patterns and types of paint, which only demonstrated the wide range of problems: the varying quality of paint, issues of shine and glare. In the meantime, Joe’s small department was overwhelmed with work.
The Air Ministry established its own civil camouflage depart-ment at Adastral House – opposite Joe’s workplace on Aldwych. The building contained a large studio and viewing room where Britain’s key industrial sites could be painted and looked at from different angles. Artist Lancelot Glasson was appointed as head. Glasson had served as one of Wyatt’s camoufleurs in the last war and lost a leg at Ypres. He began recruiting fellow artists, favouring those who had experience of flying, amongst them Gilbert Solomon, a former pilot in the Royal Flying Corps and nephew of Solomon J. Solomon.
At RESB Joe and Simmons also began seeking out artists with past military experience. Freddie Beddington was one of the first. The dapper and debonaire Beddington was now in his forties and working in the City, but he had been a sharpshooter on the Western Front and after Armistice studied under Henry Tonks at the Slade. On top of this he had excellent connections. His brother, the equally suave Jack Beddington, was the publicity manager of Shell, which had, throughout the 1930s, saved many struggling artists from penury by giving them design work. He now set out to save more by suggesting them to his brother as potential camoufleurs.
Connections were there to be used. Jack Sayer, a commerical artist and cousin of the brigadier, and Johnny Churchill, a muralist and the nephew of the soon-to-be prime minister, were also brought in to RESB, although the latter’s appointment was pure serendipity:
The War Office had thought it a good idea to open a department for studying camouflage. They called in Major Simmons, a regular soldier who was deaf. Then they summoned Joseph Gray, an artist who had been in the war as a private in the Black Watch and had written a remarkable account of the strategic possibilities of the subject . . . he was deaf too. I happened to be extraordinarily lucky when applying for work in this department because in walked a very important gentleman from Ordnance who wanted advice about concealing his factory. He was deaf as well, and his deaf-aid machine would not work
. Thus my first unofficial military job was shouting out and then writing down secret information about his factory while Simmons and Gray ‘Whatted?’ their heads off.23
Recruitment sped up once Captain Richard Buckley joined the panel, though his interview methods left much to be desired. The wildly mercurial Buckley had experience of camouflage from the last war and saw it as a visual art, yet when confronted with well-known artists he preferred to bark out less obvious questions – enquiring, for instance, whether they had done any hunting, shooting or fishing. Film-maker Geoffrey Barkas, put forward by Jack Beddington, was only accepted because he had seen active service. The Surrealist painter Julian Trevelyan had already started designing camouflage schemes as a civilian to earn some money, but found it was his love of sailing that swung it for Buckley. A keen sailor, Buckley’s frown finally lifted.
It was a crazy world, this world of camouflage, and it was fast filling up with unusual characters. Joe fitted right in – how could he not? He was one of the first and so he helped to shape it. But there was still so much to do. Camouflage had thrown him a lifeline and now it was to be his creed and his cause. It could even be his muse and his mistress.
Except. Except.
He already had one.
Because camouflage didn’t just give Joe a fresh lease of life.
It allowed him to make a new one.
Notes
CAB = Cabinet Papers
CD, TC, CDTC = Camouglage Development and Training Centre
HO= Home Office
IWM = Imperial War Museum
PREM = Prime Minister’s Office Records