The very existence of this body was one of the most closely guarded secrets. Yet a team of administrators had to be formed, people with vision and connections. Recruiters had to be found who could identify individuals with the right combination of skills and personality traits. The new organization couldn’t advertise for laborers and secretaries in the want ads. Trainers and instructors would be needed who could impart the knowledge necessary for agents to carry out their missions, jobs which would certainly be different from their current occupations. The scope of the task was immense. As one veteran said later, “Examining such an enormous task, one felt as if one had been told to move the Pyramids with a pin.”
Sections were organized within the SOE to handle different areas of work and different parts of the world. Since the newly fallen France was geographically the closest Nazi territory to Britain, it appeared logical that operations should begin there as quickly as possible. Thus F Section came into being at the same time that SOE was formed. Leslie Humphreys was the original head of the section. The leadership then passed to H. R. Marriott in December of 1940, and finally to Maurice Buckmaster, who retained the position until the end of the war. Into their capable hands fell the task of recruiting French-speaking individuals who could infiltrate the country behind enemy lines.
The RF section was formed in the spring of 1941 when de Gaulle insisted on having a section that would be manned only with French and would answer directly to him. F Section was prohibited from recruiting any Frenchmen or Frenchwomen, although to do so seemed the most logical step. The DF section handled escapees from France, primarily through Spain. The EU/P section acted as liaison between the Polish government in exile in London and SOE and dealt with the large number of Poles living outside of Poland, half a million of them in central France. The section dubbed AMF was based in Algiers and worked in the southern areas of France. In addition there were country sections for the Middle East, the Balkins, and Scandinavia.
This profusion of sections and personalities quite naturally caused occasional friction and confusion, made all the more difficult by the number of Resistance organizations sprouting up throughout France. In one instance, F Section agents arrived at an appointed parachute drop location, only to find RF agents already in possession of the goods sent from London. On another occasion, an SOE group was surveying a potential German shipping target at the Bordeaux docks only to watch it blown up by Royal Marine canoeists who used mines that had been supplied to them by none other than the SOE.
In order to run a successful clandestine operation, an army of support people was needed. Their work was done at “stations,” each designated by a Roman numeral. The stations were located throughout Great Britain in office buildings, manors, schools, and halls. And their work covered a broad spectrum.
Besides training for the newly recruited agents, new weapons and implements were needed that could be mass-produced, dropped by parachute, or deployed underwater. To that end, a creative research and development team came up with such devices as booby traps, miniature motorbikes, and tiny submarines. Cryptologists devised codes and communications experts developed a staff to receive incoming agents’ messages. Eventually even forgers were hired to begin work on counterfeit French francs that could be taken back into France to purchase whatever was necessary to carry on missions. In addition to the need for intelligence analysis, counterintelligence was also needed, and staff was recruited for both of those areas as well.
SOE personnel came from all walks of life and worked slavishly, sometimes around the clock. This included, of course, Vera Atkins. She was an intelligence officer and deputy to the F Section chief. Their operations began at offices at 64 Baker Street under the cover name of Inter-Services Research Bureau. The location was a tongue-in-cheek nod to Britain’s most famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, whose offices were also located on Baker Street. In fact the SOE was occasionally called, as was Holmes’ fictional group of spies before them, “the Baker Street Irregulars.” A great deal of effort went into keeping the locations of all SOE work secret, even among the various sections. New recruits were never taken to Baker Street. Rather, SOE officers met them in other locations.
The Northumberland Hotel was a dingy building near Charing Cross, in the heart of London. A pub anchored the first floor, while a sitting room and restaurant were located on the second, and two floors of hotel rooms sat above that. It would have been a completely unknown location to Virginia except for the fact that she had been an avid Sherlock Holmes fan in her youth. The Northumberland figured prominently in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic Hound of the Baskervilles.
Virginia asked for Vera Atkins at the hotel desk inside the pub. The man behind the counter gave her the once-over, then escorted her to the lift. The two of them rode silently up to the third floor, where he led her down the hall to a closed door. He rapped on the wood paneling and waited for a response from within. Upon Vera’s raspy acknowledgment, the door was opened.
Virginia took in the room. Despite the fact that the windows were boarded up from outside, the shades were partially drawn in further preparation for the evening’s imposed blackout. Cigarette smoke hung in the room like London’s famous fog and ashtrays overflowed with the remnants of Vera’s virulent habit. There was no bed as would be expected in a hotel room; in its place was a desk and a round table cluttered with used plates and teacups. The room was devoid of any accoutrements or color.
Vera sat in a chair on one side of the desk with a file folder lying open in front of her. She smiled pleasantly and motioned toward the chair opposite her, asking Virginia to sit down. She began promptly by telling Virginia that she was not really with the War Office, but with another organization looking for people who might consider going to France.
Before Virginia had a chance to respond, the room door opened and a very tall, handsome man near Virginia’s age strode in. He nodded at Vera who said in French, “Je voudrais vous présenter Mlle Virginia Hall.” Upon hearing herself introduced, Virginia held out her hand. The man took it and smiled warmly, responding, “Bonjour, Mlle Hall. Le capitaine Jacques de Guélis.”
Vera explained to Virginia that de Guélis was a newcomer to the organization. He had been in France as a liaison officer with the British Expeditionary Force and was captured the previous year. He had been able to escape and found their organization when he returned to Britain.
De Guélis said that he was interested in hearing Virginia’s story. How had she, an American, come to be in England during a war? What were her experiences in France? Where had she gone to school and what languages did she speak? The questions continued for thirty minutes, and Virginia responded calmly to each one in flawless French.
When she finished, he told her she had a perfect command of the French language, despite a decidedly American accent. In a soft, confidential voice, he explained that the organization he and Vera were a part of was planning on sneaking British agents into France. Their purpose would be to gather information about the Nazis’ positions and begin to organize whatever kind of resistance among the French they might find. De Guélis said Vera had told him about Virginia’s desire to return to France, but he was confused as to why she would take up a fight that wasn’t even hers.
Virginia bristled at this, explaining that she had spent most of her adult life in Europe. She loved the countries she’d lived in and the people shed met. In no uncertain terms, she told him, a fight against the Nazis was as much hers as it was theirs. Or his.
Her outspokenness startled de Guélis and he studied her. Virginia never blinked or wavered, looking directly back into his eyes. A long silence ensued, after which he told her that taking action against the Nazis would require not only desire, but an organized effort with help from both inside and outside the country. And that was where their interest in Virginia lay.
He and Vera believed, he said, that women agents would be able to move more freely and would be less suspect than male agents. Virginia had
been highly spoken of. She had the wit, courage, and attention to detail that they believed would be the hallmarks of a good agent. And it was obvious, he said, that she didn’t step down from a challenge.
Her familiarity with the country and the language was an enormous asset. Plus, as an American, and therefore a noncombatant, she would have complete freedom to move about. Finally the question Virginia had anticipated came. Would she be willing to go back to France working undercover for the British government?
Virginia was elated. For ten years she had struggled to get a job in the Foreign Service of her own country. The response had essentially been that women weren’t right for the job, that she wasn’t right for the job, and that amputees weren’t up to the challenge. Now, suddenly, a foreign government saw something in her that her own government had not. She was indeed mentally and physically capable—in some ways more so than those who currently held even loftier governmental positions—and she cared very deeply about Europe’s position in the world community and its very survival. In short, the British government saw her as a valuable asset.
Virginia needed no time to think over her answer.
Great Britain’s plan to infiltrate France with special agents was crucial, in terms of both helping to free France, as well as to defend the British homeland. There were many Brits, and as in the case of Virginia, non-Brits, willing to volunteer at the very mention of it. But in order for such a plan to work successfully, the agents had to be trained to absolute perfection. Their lives and those of their colleagues would depend upon it. The training was demanding. Recruits had to learn demolition, field craft (clandestine survival), Morse code, weapons training, map reading, canoeing, parachuting, bomber receptions, security, and the general organization of an underground circuit.
The SOE was very selective and many of the volunteers washed out for various reasons: the training was more rigorous than they could physically handle, they were unable to guard secret information, their personality was not suited to espionage. Those who didn’t make it went from the training facilities to “the Cooler,” a lonely manor in northern Scotland where they remained a number of weeks until the information they had learned was no longer current and any slips they might make couldn’t harm the program.
Virginia had been identified as having the qualities the SOE was seeking. Their agents would need to be leaders, but also have a team spirit. They needed organizational skills and to be efficient and industrious, but also had to know when to delegate. They needed versatility and resourcefulness as well as common sense, and they needed to be able to mix in well but to be discreet and not draw attention to themselves. Most of all, they needed to understand that there would be no applause for a job well done. Recognition would mean exposure, making it impossible for them to take on future missions and endangering other agents in the field.
While Vera Atkins, Jacques de Guélis, and others believed that Virginia possessed the much sought-after qualities, she still had to be trained and tested. Virginia understood that the training alone would be a full-time job, making it impossible for her to carry on with her job at the embassy. She officially resigned her position on Wednesday, February 26,1941, listing her reason as seeking other employment.
Working for a foreign government’s intelligence division would most certainly be frowned upon by her own government, however, Virginia dealt with the conflict in her own way. She always preferred asking forgiveness for something she’d already done, rather than ask permission—and face the risk of being turned down—before she took action.
Not qualifying for a mission in France wasn’t something Virginia could envision. But at this early stage, her exact insertion date behind enemy lines couldn’t be predicted. So she held on to her room at Mrs. Tipton’s, telling her landlady that she was taking a position with the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, the FANYs. Her FANY training would take her away from London for a time, she explained, but she would continue to pay for her room from her savings to have a home to come back to once the training was complete.
The following Monday, Virginia was on a train heading south to the town of Guilford. The twenty-five-mile trip took just an hour and when she arrived at the station she met a young woman in a FANY uniform who walked up to her and called her by name. I’d better do something about my appearance, Virginia thought, if I’m that easy to spot. After arriving at Wan-borough Manor, the estate that was to be her home in the weeks to come, she mentioned the incident to one of the hosts that first night at dinner. He told her it wasn’t that her looks were anything out of the ordinary, but probably that her look was. One must never look as though he were searching for someone or something, unless of course, one wanted others to think precisely that. By the end of training, he assured her she would know just how to differentiate between the two.
Training at Wanborough began immediately and was continuous. Virginia tore into it with a kind of dynamism she hadn’t felt since high school, the kind she employed when learning a new sport or the lines to a play. Every waking hour, the recruits were instructed, right down to simple table manners that would give them away as being British. They learned how to hold their eating utensils in the French way, with fork in left hand and knife in right, just as they’re set at the table. They had to be taught not to pour their milk into their teacups first, but after the tea or coffee had been poured. Smoking was prohibited for women in France during the war, so female recruits who smoked had to do so surreptitiously. Any one of these simple missteps could be deadly under a watchful German eye.
Immediately upon their arrival at Wanborough recruits received code names that they would use for communications with other SOE members and headquarters. Virginia’s was Germaine. They were instructed to use these names exclusively from then on. Only French was to be spoken at meals and after that first morning, Virginia was amazed at the command of the language her recruit colleagues had. It was comforting as well—survival in the field would rest not only with her own expertise, but also with that of those around her.
Their course work began that first day with Morse code. All the recruits were slow and sloppy, and Virginia was not alone in her frustration. Just when she thought she’d burst, the whole group was trooped outside into the winter sunshine, where they began lessons on demolition. Two hours later, they were all back in the large dining hall, lunching on an excellent sausage cassoulet with crème brûlée for dessert. Then it was on to a canoe class followed by an introduction to the weapons they would be issued.
“This is a Browning repeater,” Leslie, their weapons instructor told them. “It’s the lightest gun available and is clip-fed. This is the gun you’ll use in the field, and by the end of three weeks, you’ll be very comfortable with it.”
Virginia knew from the start that the weaponry class would be her favorite. It brought back fond memories of the hunting and target practice she’d done with her father and brother at Box Horn.
“Never kill a German,” Leslie told them a few days later. “Put him in the hospital for six months instead. He’s more bother to his commander alive than dead. A wounded soldier has to be looked after. A dead soldier is buried and forgotten.” The class stood silently considering this comment. “You’re truthfully better off not being caught with anything that could be used against you in a fight. Furthermore, it’s not easy explaining away a weapon—those Nazis are highly suspicious of anyone who has one.”
The only other female, a recruit code-named Delphine, leaned over to Virginia and told her she thought the weapons business was ghastly. She said she had never considered until just then that she might have to actually use a weapon against another human. It was rather a sobering thought.
Virginia nodded and they moved on to their next lesson: knife fighting. “A knife should be used daintily,” Leslie told them. “To defend yourself, you don’t stab. Rather, you cut.” The recruits were given wooden knives the exact shape and weight of the real thing. The knives were tipped with red lipstick a
nd the recruits used them first on hanging dummies and later on one another. The telltale lipstick smears identified how accurate the cutting would have been had they been attacking another person.
Virginia became very adept using a knife against a dummy. The day they graduated to working on one another, the drill was to sneak up behind one of the other recruits and slit the throat. Virginia accomplished the task with no problem. But when the man turned and Virginia saw the lipstick smear on his throat, reality sunk in, just as it had for Delphine several days earlier.
If the agents were caught without a gun or knife, they were taught how to defend themselves nonetheless. They were to forget any fistfights they’d ever seen in the movies, nor did they need to use their knuckles to fight. Knuckles, the instructor said, were comparatively fragile. Rather, he instructed them to use the heel of their open hand. Landing on a man’s jaw will break it neat as you please.
If they happened to be caught holding an umbrella or walking stick, they could use those as well. But they shouldn’t slash with them like a sword. Instead, they should thrust. He demonstrated on a hanging dummy. And the golden rule in hand-to-hand combat, the instructor said, was to get close. The nearer they were, the harder it would be for their opponent to get out of their way.
Virginia participated in all of the courses her colleagues did. Her disability was never an issue, although some of the physical training, like running up and down Hog’s Back Hill, was made difficult by her wooden leg. Had her instructors allowed her to pass on those exercises, and they did not, Virginia would not have agreed to it anyway. After all, the Germans were certainly not going to make any exceptions for her.
The Wolves at the Door: The True Story of America's Greatest Female Spy Page 8