Memoirs

by David Rockefeller

  I found the work disappointing. I had been led to believe that I would be involved in a much more active intelligence-gathering operation that would utilize my specialized training. Colonel Byron Switzer, my commanding officer, felt differently. An engineer with little intelligence background, the colonel believed JICANA had no mandate to originate its own intelligence reports. Shortly after my arrival I wrote my parents that “no one seems to know what I am supposed to do.”

  After a few weeks of collating reports prepared by other agencies and growing increasingly frustrated, I asked Colonel Switzer if I could try my hand at reporting on political activities and economic conditions in the region. After some hesitation he agreed to my request, and I set about creating my own intelligence “network” from scratch.

  Frankly, this was an almost impossible task for someone in my position. I was only a second lieutenant and was competing with the more established intelligence services—including Colonel William Donovan’s Office of Strategic Services. However, I did have a few advantages. I spoke French and understood the political and economic situation better than most. In addition, I had letters of introduction to a number of influential people, two of whom proved to be of immense help.

  Henri Chevalier, Standard Oil of New Jersey’s general manager in North Africa, had lived in Algiers for many years and had wide contacts within the business community across North Africa. Henri introduced me to a number of colons (Algerians of French descent) and to others who had left France after the German occupation. Among the latter was Alfred Pose, the powerful head of the Banque National pour le Commercial l’Industrie’s branch system in North Africa, who introduced me to influential Arab businessmen and political leaders.

  Prime Minister Mackenzie King, my father’s old friend, wrote on my behalf to General George Vanier, the senior Canadian representative in North Africa. The friendship I developed with General Vanier brought me into contact with a number of people in the Allied diplomatic community and with members of the CNL, whom it would have been difficult for me to meet otherwise. Vanier’s military attaché, Colonel Maurice Forget, invited me to join a ten-day trip through Morocco with a group of military attachés. That trip provided me with a number of new contacts and a broader understanding of the precarious French position in North Africa.

  I also began to meet senior people in Allied diplomatic circles and in the CNL, among them Ambassador Robert Murphy, a staunch Giraud supporter who had prepared the way for the Allied landings in North Africa. I also met several of Murphy’s famous vice consuls, such as Ridgway Knight, who would later join me at Chase. It was in Algiers that I first became friends with William Paley, the founder of CBS, who ran the psychological warfare program in the theater, and C. D. Jackson, one of Paley’s deputies and later publisher of Fortune magazine.

  Within a few months I developed a large and well-placed network of informants, which enabled me to report thoughtfully on the evolving political situation in North Africa. Colonel Switzer saw the merit of my work and gave me a free hand, even to the point of allowing me to make forays—about ten thousand miles of it in a jeep—throughout Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, as well as a two-week trip to Cairo and Istanbul to deepen my contacts with French intelligence officials. Presumably, the reaction from Washington was favorable since I was not told to stop.

  GIRAUD VERSUS DE GAULLE: AN INSIDE VIEW

  The most valuable contacts I developed were within the CNL command itself. Two men in particular enabled me to obtain an inside view of the rivalry between Giraud and de Gaulle. A friend of Mother’s introduced me to de Gaulle’s aide-de-camp, Etienne Burin des Rosier. Like most of de Gaulle’s entourage, Etienne kept a chilly distance from most Americans, but he was friendly to me and occasionally provided me with useful information.

  Even more responsive was Léon de Rosen, Giraud’s aide-de-camp. A refugee from the Russian revolution, Léon had worked his way up from a menial job to become director of the Fiat assembly plant in Provence. He joined the French Foreign Legion in 1939 and became one of Giraud’s aides in late 1942. Léon and I became good friends, and he was quite willing to provide me with information on the struggle between de Gaulle and Giraud, because, no doubt, he felt it would be communicated to sympathetic ears in Washington.

  Even Léon recognized that Giraud’s political ineptness and connections to conservative political circles made winning the political struggle with de Gaulle a difficult proposition. De Gaulle, on the other hand, was astute and ruthless, and step by step he outmaneuvered his older rival. As the year progressed, Giraud became increasingly isolated, and as I drove down the boulevard de la République, the main street of Algiers, I saw more and more flags displaying the blue and white cross of Lorraine, de Gaulle’s liberation emblem, flying next to the tricolor.

  By April 1944 the struggle was over. De Gaulle forced Giraud from the CNL and sent him in exile to the town of Mostaganem, near Oran. A few weeks later and shortly after Giraud survived an assassination attempt, Léon invited me to visit them for a long weekend. I talked with the general for several hours, and he told me in detail about his escape from prison, his months hiding out in the south of France, and his negotiations with the Allies in the weeks leading up to the North African invasion. Giraud was a proud man with all the soldierly qualities, and he had accepted his defeat with dignity and sadness. He gave me fascinating insights into the political situation, which had important consequences for the postwar period, which I passed on to Washington.

  Much of my reporting focused on the anticolonial movement that was gaining strength among the Arabs and Berbers throughout the Maghreb. This was of considerable significance since the U.S. government was on record as favoring the independence of colonial areas in Asia and Africa after the war. In one report I said: “German propaganda in North Africa among Arabs no longer effective. Arabs supporting the Allies. No fundamental hostility between Jews and Moslems in Algeria. . . . Arabs’ principal antagonism is toward the Colons. . . . Communism said to be spreading rapidly. . . . Ultimate objective of Moslems in North Africa said to be political and economic equality with other national groups.”

  It was clear to me that even though Algeria had been incorporated within “metropolitan France,” the Arabs and Berbers resented French control. The beginnings of the Arab revolt that would culminate in Algerian independence in 1960 could already be seen during World War II. However, it would take a savage colonial war and the near collapse of the French Republic itself before that occurred.

  Although my duties in North Africa were not hazardous, there were moments of extreme danger. The closest I came to death was on a routine flight from Morocco to Oran, and it wasn’t from enemy fire. I was on a DC-3, sitting, by chance, with Adlai Stevenson, who was on a mission as an assistant to Secretary of the Navy Knox. We encountered severe turbulence, but the real problem was cloud cover, which made it impossible to get visual bearings to land in Oran. The plane was not equipped with radar, and the pilot circled for a long time hoping for a break in the clouds. Looking over the pilot’s shoulder I saw the gas gauge needle pointing ominously to empty. The pilot was visibly nervous, Adlai had turned green, and I probably looked the same. As a last resort the pilot took the plane down through the clouds to get his bearings, hoping we didn’t hit a mountain in the coastal range. We descended for what seemed like an eternity before breaking through the clouds above the landing strip at an altitude of about one hundred feet. The pilot landed safely, bringing a terrifying flight to a prosaic conclusion.

  TO HOME AND BACK

  In July 1944, Colonel Switzer arranged for me to act as a courier to escort our intelligence pouch to Washington. On my arrival I was given a fifteen-day leave to visit Peggy and the children. There were now three; Neva, the youngest, had been born in June, and I saw her for the first time. It was a welcome respite and one that few Gl’s ever had. It also gave me an opportunity to reassure Peggy that I cared for her and missed her, and tell her how important she was in
my life. She had cause to wonder since my letters, though frequent, arrived after delays of several weeks. The problem was the “V” mail system; one wrote letters on a single sheet of paper, which were censored, microfilmed to reduce their size for shipping to the United States, then blown back up to normal size, and finally mailed. This cumbersome process caused Peggy much stress and anxiety. My stay was painfully short; we hardly had time to get reacquainted before I had to leave.

  SOUTHWEST FRANCE

  I returned to Algiers just before the Allied invasion of southern France in August 1944. The city had become a backwater, and there was little for me to do. I desperately wanted a transfer and finally received new orders in early October transferring me on a temporary basis to “T” Force, a frontline intelligence unit attached to General Alexander Patch’s Seventh Army, which had moved north along the Rhone River to join forces with General George Patton’s Third Army near Lyon. I joined the unit near Dôle in eastern France. The front was only a few miles away, and there was a constant movement of men and supplies toward the Rhine and the steady rumble of artillery.

  “T” Force was the brainchild of Colonel James Pumpelly, who had been the deputy commander of JICA in Algiers when I first arrived. The unit’s mission was to travel with frontline combat troops and seize critical scientific and technological information before the enemy could destroy it. However, the colonel had a different job in mind for me. He had been impressed by my work in Algiers and asked for my transfer to handle a special assignment. Eisenhower’s headquarters, Pumpelly told me, had little reliable intelligence about the immense area west of the Rhone and south of the Loire rivers, which had been bypassed in the rapid pursuit of the German armies toward the Rhine. There were reports of German SS units operating in this area, and other accounts that the French Communist resistance controlled vast portions of the countryside and would launch an insurrection when the time was right. Along the border with Spain, units of the Spanish Republican Army were known to be still active. As resistance groups evened old scores by purging collaborators with drumhead courts-martial and summary executions, there was a danger that the situation might degenerate into civil war.

  Colonel Pumpelly ordered me to assess the political situation, the state of the economy, and the degree to which foreign forces or indigenous radical groups posed a threat to Allied forces or the authority of the new French government in extreme southwestern France. Although Pumpelly gave me a general idea of my mission, he left it to me to make my own way.

  MEETING PICASSO

  Since the successful completion of this mission would require assistance from the newly established French Provisional Government, I went to Paris to request help from some of my old friends from Algiers who had moved to France with de Gaulle. I spent a few days visiting government offices and the Deuxième Bureau of the Army and was given several “To Whom It May Concern” letters that would prove of great value.

  One morning I ran into Henri Laugier, the former rector of the University of Algiers who had been a member of the CNL in Algiers. He invited me to lunch with him at the home of his mistress, Madame Cuttoli, an art dealer in Paris with whom my mother had dealt before the war. Her husband, an elderly, semi-senile former senator from the Department of Constantine in Algeria, was confined to a wheelchair in his upstairs bedroom. Much to my delight the fourth member of our luncheon party was Pablo Picasso, who, Laugier informed me, had also been a lover of Madame Cuttoli before the war.

  Picasso, though not yet the preeminent artist he would become, was already a well-known personality. He was subdued and did not talk much about his wartime experiences, which he had spent quietly in the south of France. Upon his return to Paris in the autumn of 1944, he had immediately joined the Communist Party. Nonetheless, he was warm and friendly to me, and was pleased Mother had been an early collector of his drawings and prints, which she had acquired through Madame Cuttoli in New York before the war.

  It was a memorable if somewhat disconcerting meal. The aged senator remained upstairs while his wife, Picasso, Laugier, and I enjoyed a sumptuous meal. Neither Madame Cuttoli nor her amorous friends were the least embarrassed by their past or present relationships, even when we all visited her husband in his bedroom.

  CUT OFF FROM THE WORLD

  I returned to Luneville in early November 1944 to make final preparations for the trip. Colonel Pumpelly assigned me a jeep and a young Navy yeoman driver, Buddy Clark, who doubled as a stenographer. We towed a small open trailer filled with five-gallon cans of gasoline and large quantities of C rations since both fuel and food were in short supply in the area. Buddy and I were completely on our own during the entire six-week period. I don’t recall any other time in my life when I was so completely cut off from the rest of the world for so long.

  The area we had been assigned was the ancient lands of the Languedoc, the Midi, and Gascony. It was a glorious trip through some of the most beautiful country in Europe. The last of the harvest was being brought in, and the distant peaks of the Pyrenees were white with the first snows of winter as we drove from Perpignan to Toulouse. Only a few hundred miles away millions of men were locked in savage combat.

  We visited the regional capitals of Nîmes, Montpellier, Perpignan, Toulouse, Pau, and Bordeaux, where I met the new commissioners of the Republic appointed by de Gaulle. I was well received and had no difficulty getting them to talk about the political and economic situation in their areas. I also spoke with many people I met along the way who represented a variety of backgrounds and points of view. In many of the places we visited, we were the first Americans anyone had seen since 1940. It was a fascinating and, at some points, a nerve-racking mission.

  Returning to Luneville in mid-December, I dictated reports on each departement, which were sent to AFHQ and Washington. I had found nothing to substantiate the reports of subversive elements roaming the countryside, but there was great political and economic uncertainty, as well as anxiety about the progress of the war. With winter fast approaching and food and fuel supplies low, I suggested the situation could deteriorate quickly if supplies were not sent in from the outside.*

  INTELLIGENCE GATHERING IN PARIS

  Although I had hoped to remain in France after completing my mission, the Army had other plans. I was sent back to Algiers and spent a desolate Christmas there waiting for a new assignment. Finally, in February 1945, just after I was promoted to captain, I received orders to report to Paris as an assistant military attaché.

  A few weeks later General Ralph Smith was appointed military attaché. General Smith had served in France during World War I, married a French woman, and spoke the language well. He had fought in the Pacific and commanded the assault on Makin Island in 1943. General Smith brought with him as an aide Captain Warren T. (Lindy) Lindquist, who had won the Silver Star for bravery at Makin. Lindy and I became friends and also got along well with General Smith, who asked us to share his quarters on the boulevard Saint-Germain. Once again my responsibilities as an AMA were not clearly defined. General Smith was a combat officer with little intelligence experience. When I told him what I had done in North Africa and southwestern France, he suggested that I set up a similar political and economic intelligence unit, reporting directly to him. He assigned Lindy to work with me, along with two lieutenants, one of whom, Richard Dana, had been a friend of mine in New York and would, like Lindy, work for me after the war.

  I built the intelligence operation around my contacts with members of de Gaulle’s government. Rather quickly we were reporting on the Provisional Government and its internal conflicts. We kept a particularly close watch on the competing French intelligence services—the Army’s Deuxième Bureau, the Gaullist Secret Service, and the remnants of Giraud’s intelligence apparatus. We learned that Jacques Soustelle, head of the Gaullist operation, had been ousted after a “heated cabinet discussion.” André DeWavrin, who used the nom de guerre Colonel Passy, replaced him. The Colonel was believed to have been a member of the Cagoular
ds, the rightist group that had almost toppled Léon Blum’s Popular Front government in a 1937 coup attempt. I had written a report on Passy the year before, saying, “There are few people in Algiers more generally feared, disliked, or distrusted. . . . He has openly expressed the desire to get control of the police of France so that he can eliminate the elements he considers undesirable.”

  Somewhat naively I sent out a questionnaire to U.S. military commands asking for all material on French intelligence. Not surprisingly, Colonel Passy learned about my inquiries. Although everyone did it, it wasn’t comme il faut to be caught spying on one’s allies. Within days Colonel Passy summoned me to his office. He seemed in a good mood and ushered me to a seat with a friendly wave of his hand. We chatted amiably, then he said, “Captain Rockefeller, we have come to understand that there is information you would like to have about our services.” He looked at me and raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Isn’t that so?” I nodded. I could tell he was clearly enjoying my agony. “But my dear captain,” he continued, “really, all this is readily available to you if you will just ask us for it. Please tell me what you would like, and we will be glad to provide the information.” I thanked him for his offer and left as quickly as possible.