First SEALs

by Patrick K. O'Donnell

  Smith’s mission was like finding a needle in a moving haystack. He and his guides were moving through hostile territory and so were the nurses—both groups trying to avoid roving patrols. To find them, Smith split up his small group of guides, and they fanned out in three different directions. By working with the SOE missions on the ground, bribing local strongmen, and relying on a lot of persistence and luck, Smith eventually found the medics and nurses on January 6, 1944. Now the sizably larger group had to somehow make its way back through hostile territory and link up with Taylor.

  Once again traversing the enemy-infested waters of the Adriatic, the Yankee, piloted by Hayden and Taylor, made it to the rendezvous off the coast of Albania. According to plan, a small boat made its way to the Yankee. Hayden, clad in a large, dark overcoat, stared down at the nurses and Lloyd Smith. With his bellowing voice, it is likely that it was Hayden who hollered, “Crawl up. Hold the rope tight!” The nurses clambered aboard safely. Taylor, Hayden, and the crew greeted the exhausted Americans who had spent nearly two months behind enemy lines in Albania, giving them ample quantities of rum and candy along with blankets and pillows. Twenty-three Americans were finally safe in the hands of two of the best seamen in the Adriatic, but the count was three short.

  DESPITE THE AIR RAID and base relocation, the OSS supply operation continued from Bari. Sterling Hayden received orders to undertake another highly dangerous mission in the Adriatic. The Allies had heard that Germans were attacking and invading several islands off the Dalmatian coast. Hayden was to travel by boat to the islands of Korcula, Vis, Hvar, and Brac to make contact with Tito’s officers and “to find out on the spot whether the islands in question had actually been occupied by German landing forces.”

  Heedless of the predicted bad weather in the area, Hayden set out for Yugoslavia on Christmas Eve. But the night’s storms proved impossible to overcome. His ship stranded not far from the Italian coast and soon sank. Undeterred, “Captain [Hayden] managed to get ashore and returned to Bari, from where he proceeded on board another ship on the morning of the 25th.”

  The weather wasn’t much better on Christmas day, but this time Hayden managed to make it to the island of Korcula. Under cover of darkness, he came ashore and made contact with Tito’s operatives in the area, who confirmed that the Germans were, in fact, attacking the islands. When morning broke, Hayden set out in a Jeep, accompanied by a Yugoslav officer and two partisans, to ascertain the situation for himself. Suddenly, Germans waiting in ambush began firing at the vehicle. They shot and killed the driver sitting next to Hayden. “However, Captain [Hayden] and the remaining Partisans managed to shoot their way out of the ambush and escaped with the Jeep.”

  Korcula was overrun. With no hope of stopping the German onslaught, Hayden and what was left of the partisan garrison escaped by boat on the night of December 26. “After a hazardous sea voyage through waters patrolled by enemy E-boats and landing craft, [Hayden] arrived on the Island of Hvar on the morning of 27 December.” It too was under attack. With German dive-bomber Stuka JU-87s roaring overhead, Hayden calmly sat in the open for six hours, collecting as much intelligence as possible from the partisans on the island. Hayden later explained, “No Allied aircraft [come] near this part of the world, so the Krauts patrol up and down in little training planes called ‘Storches’ with wheels hanging down. And when the pilot sees you he leans over the side and drops little bombs by hand.”

  Confident he had obtained as much information as possible about the enemy movements on the Dalmatian coast, Hayden set out on yet another perilous sea voyage on the night of December 30. Lashed by the winds of a severe winter storm on the Adriatic, the small, local boat successfully dodged the enemy patrol boats that infested the area. At the last minute, however, the craft’s mechanical systems gave out, and the boat sank. “On the way back south the water pump let go,” recalled Hayden. “We paddled and drifted into the mainland, said goodbye to the boat, and took off on foot toward where some friends were rumored to be.”

  Undaunted, the shipwrecked Hayden somehow procured another boat and made it back to Bari with the precious intel. On the basis of that information, “immediate steps were taken to bring aid and relief to the threatened islands. Furthermore, Allied naval operations were initiated without delay and obtained extremely favorable results against German naval craft. Also, Allied air operations were at once undertaken against German occupation forces in Dalmatia, causing the German military operation to come to a temporary standstill.”

  After this successful mission, the assignment of establishing a base to continue supplying the partisans on Vis fell to Hayden and Ward Ellen. They set up in the port city of Monopoli, about thirty miles south of the OSS operation at Bari. Their MU fleet consisted of fourteen schooners (sailing vessels with multiple sails and masts), six ketches (sailboats with two masts), and two brigantines (another type of small sailboat that was a favorite with pirates).

  However, the business of supplying Tito’s partisans didn’t always sit well with the Allies, particularly the British. The political implications of aiding an openly Communist organization troubled them. That hesitation came to the fore when a British general visited the port at Monopoli. Hayden recalled that “the British arrived all decked out with red bands on their sleeves and caps and there were drivers holding car doors open. It was quite a show.” One of the partisans, a friend of Hayden’s named Stipanovitch, came crawling up “from the bowels of a schooner all smeared with dirt” at about the same time. Unimpressed by the general’s splendor, Stipanovitch marched right up to the Brit and saluted. “General,” he began, “I must ask you the one question. On the Dalmatian coast we have gunboats made from fishing launches with antitank guns made fast on deck. They go almost as fast as eight knots, some of them. Here in Italia are five once upon a time Royal Yugoslav motor torpedo boats with armor plates and hinges and they go the forty knots. Now why, I ask it of you, why does your command not turn them loose to us partisan peoples? Why?”

  Somewhat sheepishly, the general kicked at a stone and replied, “My dear chap, there are such things as politics to be considered, you know.”

  This answer touched a nerve with the Yugoslav, who exploded in response. “And I say fook your politics,” he yelled before storming off.

  *Eisenhower considered the C-47 to be one of the key tools that helped the Allies win World War II.

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  BACK TO ALBANIA

  LLOYD SMITH ENJOYED A STRONG SENSE of satisfaction as he leaned over the sink at the OSS base camp in Bari with a shiny flat razor in hand, finishing a long overdue shave. He had just completed the mission of his life. The OSS chief, General Donovan, had reviewed his mission report, and it was now on its way to the president of the United States. It was an accomplishment that would make any operative proud.

  Suddenly Smith felt a presence in the room. Turning around, he saw Wild Bill Donovan striding toward him. Stunned, Smith dropped the razor into the basin as Donovan grasped his hand in a warm handshake, congratulating him on a mission well done.

  Donovan often spoke with agents in the field and, whenever possible, would personally thank the men and women of the OSS and see them off on their missions. He respected their courage and sacrifice because he himself loved action. Donovan led by example and would never ask one of his agents to do something he wouldn’t do. Never lacking in bravery, he participated in many of the war’s crucial amphibious landings, including the invasion of Italy at Salerno and later, D-Day. After thanking Smith for leading the successful rescue mission in Albania, he asked the former wrestler for more details about some of the events. After carefully listening, Donovan looked Smith straight in the eye and said, “We’re sending you back in.”

  Three nurses from the group of twenty-six somehow had become separated from the rest of the party. Donovan was sending Smith back to bring them out. And once again he would rely on the expert sailing skills of his friends and fellow OSS operatives Jack Taylor and Sterling H
ayden to navigate the Yankee through the German-infested waters of the Adriatic, transport him into Albania, and be there to carry him and the three remaining American nurses safely home.

  FEBRUARY 24, 1944, “SEA ELEPHANT,” A CLANDESTINE BASE IN CENTRAL ALBANIA

  In a repeat of the first infiltration, Taylor and Hayden successfully re-inserted Smith back into the country. After successfully reaching the covert base “Sea Elephant,” he worked closely again with the Albanian Ballists as well as SOE and the OSS operatives in Albania to locate where the nurses were hiding, though he could not make contact right away. In fact, meeting up with the nurses wasn’t going to be easy. Since his last mission, the Germans had moved into the area by force. The Allies knew it was only a matter of time before the Germans located “Sea Elephant,” and it wasn’t safe for Smith to leave. Because he couldn’t go himself to fetch the three women, he was forced to rely on the cousin of one of his key Albanian supporters to carry a message. “This cousin was provided with money to secure credentials and to purchase civilian clothes for the nurses to make the trip from Berat by automobile should they decide to get out of uniform,” noted Smith. “In my letter to the nurses, I told them the decision as to whether or not they wished to change to civilian clothes and make the trip by car or have me come up and bring them down by foot was entirely theirs.” One of the partisans, who believed it would be too risky for Smith to get the women by himself, was incredulous that Smith was leaving the decision about how to travel up to the women. He said that in Albania, “We always tell our women what to do.”

  Several tense days followed, and the Germans grew ever closer to the location of the secret base. Local shepherds stood on watch nearby, ready to inform the Ballists and Smith as soon as enemy soldiers approached. Four Germans moved into the area, forcing Smith and his comrade, Sergeant Nick R. Cooky, an OSS agent and Marine who was leading an SI mission in Albania prior to Smith’s arrival, to flee into the snow-covered mountains, but the trip was far from easy. He reported, “We waited in a gulley at the snowline and then started towards the top. After traveling for four hours in knee-deep snow and walking against a wind that was knocking us off our feet every few yards, we decided to come back down the mountain a few hundred yards and find shelter. At this time we came into a hard rain. That night we bundled together under a rock ledge with our two blankets. The next morning I had the feeling that I had not slept at all, however, [Sergeant Cooky] insisted that I was both snoring and shivering, not just shivering.”

  Smith and Cooky proceeded over the mountains to Dukati, avoiding German patrols along the way. The Nazi soldiers somehow overlooked the base at the coast, but the Allied agents in the area decided to remain in Dukati, believing it to be more secure. Weeks passed, but there was still no word from the nurses or the cousin who had gone to retrieve them. Smith’s Albanian contact reassured him, “If my cousin does not return within ten days, you can shoot me. I’ll bet my life on him.”

  It wasn’t necessary. Nine days later, on March 19, Smith “was awakened at 0700 hours by a very excited English corporal,” who announced, “They have arrived!” Smith noticed the British agent’s “suspenders were dangling down the sides of his trousers, and his gun belt was doing the work his suspenders should have been doing. Seeing him in such a state of excitement and figuring that he was warning [him] of the approaching Germans, [Smith] reached for [his] gun belt and panic pack,” ready to fight or flee.

  But his Albanian friend, who understood the true meaning of the corporal’s words, spoke up, stopping Smith in his tracks. “See, God-dammit, Major, I told you my cousin would bring them.”

  The nurses had opted to disguise themselves in civilian clothing and make the trip with the cousin by car. They arrived “in the best possible physical condition and spoke very highly of the care they had received.” That night Smith and the nurses began their long and treacherous trek back to the coast.

  They arrived back at the prearranged location where they were to meet an Italian MAS boat led by Ward Ellen on the night of March 21. However, according to reports, “The coast was considered ‘hot,’ and the waters were believed to be mined. When the MAS boat arrived off the pinpoint from O’Taranto, the Italian captain refused to go as close to shore as planned. The Italian dinghy-men refused to take the canvas boat to a German-held shore.” At this point Ward Ellen stepped forward to take the smaller craft to the shore. Inspired by his example, several Italians volunteered to crew the canvas dinghy. It took them three trips to unload all the supplies on shore and evacuate the three nurses, plus one American operative and one British officer. The Italians’ fears of a German attack never materialized, and all made it safely back to Bari.

  Lloyd Smith, like Jack Taylor, never rested long. He would soon command the Brenner Assignment, a daring plan to gather intelligence and sabotage the Brenner Pass, the main German supply artery from the Third Reich into Italy.*

  LIKE TAYLOR, HAYDEN continued crossing the Adriatic with no let up between missions. He traveled several times to the islands off the Dalmatian coast to gather intelligence and deliver aid to the partisans there. Hayden described one group of fighters there as “about thirty of the toughest bastards on earth. None of them had a bath in years. All of them had been in the thick of the fighting and marching all up and down Bosnia and Croatia. They would only take one cigarette at a time, which they passed around in circles.”

  While Hayden was with the group, a scout brought word that a German gunboat was laying up in an inlet a short distance away to ride out the weather. After hearing the message, “No one said a word. [The partisans] just loaded up two sorry-looking horses with machine guns and ammo and we all took off.”

  They soon located the 120-foot craft “in a cove so small she was tied up aft to some trees.” Although “nobody gave any orders,” the experienced fighters knew what to do. “We fanned out on a bluff full of dwarf pines directly over the vessel,” recalled Hayden. “A kid no more than twelve stayed with the horses and kept stuffing dead grass in their mouths.”

  One of the German officers chose that unlucky moment to make an appearance on deck. “This fat bastard comes out on the bridge in his slippers and yawns and stretches,” said Hayden. “And the fellow in charge of our group fired at him—and missed. Hell broke loose, of course.” Within minutes the skirmish was over. One of the Germans held a towel out of a porthole as a sign of surrender. Not one of the Allies was injured, but several of the enemy had taken grievous wounds. “It made me sick to see the crew—mostly just fuzzy-faced kids—some with their faces half shot off and one holding his eye in his hand, which he kept trying to put back.” A French surgeon with Hayden’s group immediately set to work patching up the injuries and even “shared his cigarette with two Germans.” But the operating conditions were far from ideal. “In place of anesthetic, they took the butt of a pistol and gave the patients a crack on the temple, which laid them out for a time.”

  On another mission Hayden sailed the Yankee to Albania to pick up a group of thirty Italians who were hiding in a cave. For more than a year the group had been on the run, trying desperately to return home. “I had agreed to carry the Italians back to Otranto, but I reckoned without my pilot, Ivosevitch,” recalled Hayden. “He took a Thompson gun ashore with the rubber boat, and then I heard the firing. He came back on board alone.”

  “We go!” shouted Ivosevitch.

  Hayden, knowing that Italian soldiers had previously raped the man’s wife to death, had nothing to say in response.

  NOT FAR INTO THE NEW YEAR, the Yugoslav supply operation underwent a major change. Tofte, Taylor, and Hayden “were suddenly relieved of their duties,” to be replaced by U.S. Army personnel. “This sudden change left the new officers in complete ignorance as to how [the mission] operated and the reasons why.” Eventually, British forces began taking over the operation from the clueless Army personnel. “Soon the American officers were simply figure heads.” Lieutenant Ellen recommended, “Since the British
Army has shown so much interest in the Shipping Operation, this officer suggests that it be turned over to them.”

  Despite the change of command, the mission was a resounding success. A small number of the right men in the right place made a difference. Altogether the operation shipped around 6,500 tons of supplies to the partisans, including “18,932 rifles, 20 field pieces, 33 mortars, 659 machine guns, 72 anti-tank rifles, 165,775 hand grenades, 3,567½ bales of overcoats and woolen clothing, 1,325 bales of GI shoes.” They also transported more than two thousand troops from Bari to Yugoslavia as well as evacuating more than eight hundred wounded soldiers. According to the OSS, “These figures indicate that OSS made possible the activation of a force of 30,000 or more guerrillas. So effective was this aid, that the Germans diverted [several units] from their winter offensive solely to attack the supply line itself. Thus, the impact on the enemy of this operation may conservatively be considered equivalent to that of three American divisions.” It had kept German forces busy in the Balkans so they couldn’t attack Allies elsewhere. In addition, it provided the Allied forces with valuable intelligence.

  Yet this tremendous undertaking cost the OSS amazingly little—just $35,000. And of that, $29,000 was a loan that the partisans promised to repay. By comparison, according to the OSS, “the cost of putting only one American division in the field [at the time was] $57,000,000, or about the total yearly expenditure for the whole of OSS.”

  *The author tells the story of this incredible mission in his fifth book, The Brenner Assignment.

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