"So he put the kid, at thirteen years of age, into grammar school. Pyotr finished grammar school and then went to high school. Four years later, just as he was finishing high school, bang, bang, the Germans invaded. Popov and his classmates in their little school in the country immediately formed a regiment and left to defend the town of Tula, a city about 100 miles south of Moscow. He became a second lieutenant in the Quartermaster Corps, not knowing anything else. The Germans attacked. Tula was in a vise. It was surrounded, but the defense held. There was a tremendously cold winter and the Germans almost froze to death. The temperature plummeted to as low as forty degrees below zero. Their tanks wouldn't work as the oil in them froze.
"Popov survived that winter and was promoted to the rank of first lieutenant. His job became that of a supply officer for the Quartermaster Corps, providing katyusha (a multi-rocket launcher) rounds for those automatic weapons. The challenge of his work was no big deal. He did get slightly wounded, but he continued on in the war as one of the very few peasant officers in the army.
"Suddenly, in March of 1944, back to headquarters he was summoned. There, someone tapped his shoulder and began to talk with him:
"`Popov, you are now twenty-three years old. We have just won a tremendous victory at Leningrad. Do you know where that is?'
"`Yes. What do you want with me?'
"'Well, the reason that we have you here is that we would like to send you to a very good school, which can advance your career. It is called the Frunze Military Academy) It's the highest military school in the USSR. Do you know about the school?'
"`Yes.'
"`Well, we lost many men at the defenses of Stalingrad, Leningrad, and Moscow. We have lost the majority of our officers, some by attrition, many by death; we have schools with advanced academics and we need people to enroll in these schools.'
"`Why me? I am a peasant.'
"`Exactly; you are politically clean, clean as a hound's tooth. We have nothing against you, politically, and we don't have anybody else for the school. How would you like to go to the Frunze Military Academy?'
"`Fine.'
"Shortly thereafter he acquired a girlfriend. Her family was from the city of Kalinin, but she now was in Moscow, teaching German to intelligence officers there at an intelligence academy. The pair were married later that year and he was able to share with her his private apartment. He was graduated in 1948 and received a diploma from the school. He became a captain, and the commissar came and grabbed him.
"'Popov, come here. Let's go to the general's headquarters in Moscow. Popov, you are a peasant. You are doing well for a peasant. You became an officer; you are now a captain. How would you like to continue on to another academy? A higher academy.'
-Me?'
"'Yes, you.,
"`Why me?'
"`We don't have enough students who are politically clean like you, a peasant.'
"`Can I keep my apartment? Can my wife stay with me?'
"`Yes, we can arrange that too.'
"So, for an apartment, a place to live in Moscow, he attended the Military Diplomatic Academy, which is the intelligence school for the military. Now, they have to study a language in this academy. He could read and write Russian, but languages were not his forte. He therefore elected to study the Serbo-Croatian language and military intelligence operations toward Yugoslavia. Why? `Because the people there swear just like the Russian peasants,' he said. `I can understand their language-screw this, screw that, whatever the equivalents are. So, choosing the language that was easiest for him, he laid down his future. Thus, with this peasant-like logic, his choice of an operational direction gelled. He was graduated, I believe, in the class of June 1951. Since he was to go to Vienna, he also had to learn some German. That was very difficult for him, but his wife, who was a good linguist, helped him and he was on his way. From Vienna, where they had operations against Yugoslavia, he could cultivate Yugoslavian agents, swearing like Russian peasants, and he could understand some of what was going on. So, that is how he eventually came to Vienna in November of 1951. Incidentally, I later had to help him with some with his German so that he could properly order beer in the restaurants there.
"That was the nature of the man. The matters on which he was reporting to us were whatever rumors he heard from any of his fellow case officers. Remember that he was an intelligence officer and a member of a strategic intelligence residency at a high level. The Vienna residency had many targets among the British, the Americans, and others, as well as targets involving multiple nationalities. He wouldn't know every detail, for he couldn't look into the personal files of every officer; but he did his best. We devised some means with him of forging a special key that would give him access to sealed, classified documents. He would use this to read the documents and make extracts. Afterwards, he would reseal the documents and replace them. This way we could find out who was doing what to whom.
"When we found out something from him, we never took immediate action. To do so would jeopardize him, since the Soviets would realize that a leak had occurred, and possibly could determine where the leak was. It was amazing to what degree we found out things from him. He brought us so much. For instance, when he was on duty at night, he could gain access to the monthly payroll. He copied the whole thing and it contained all kinds of exotic information. We found out who had received special prizes or rewards in money for linguistic accomplishments, who would be next in line for promotion, who did this, who did that, as well as quite a lot of biographic data on every officer involved. These were intelligence officers. So, we made a roster of their organization that displayed just where everyone was assigned, against which country and in which location, as well as their linguistic competence, notably, of course, in handling English.
"He gave us much military information. In some cases we were able to contradict what the Pentagon thought they knew about certain things. For example, there was a particular tank on which he reported. I think it might have been T-10. It was described in detail as a new monster tank. It was not called a `Joseph Stalin' tank. It was labeled with a numerical designation, with a Tbefore the number. Eventually the tanks would be designated T-10, T-54, T-78, etc., for different categories and vintages. This was a radical change from the procedure previously followed (e.g., JS-1, JS-2, JS-3), where everything was Joe Stalin this, Joe Stalin that.
"The Pentagon questioned this report. `What kind of reporting is that? What is the authority for such a report?' they demanded. His authority was the cutest thing in the world. He told me, 'You know, when I was very much younger and the war was on, my rank was low; I was a lieutenant. I knew a young man who was an up-andcoming officer. He became a colonel and he became very prominent. He became a hero of the Soviet Union and was killed. He had a wife and he had a son. He also had friends. Some of his friends were far more prominent than I. One was the chief of our military intelligence in the Soviet Union, the GRU, who just happened to be my boss at the time.'
"I said, `So, what happened?' Pyotr went on, `Well, I was visiting on leave in Moscow, to see the widow of my friend who was killed. She told me that her husband's friend, who was then my boss, the chief of intelligence, had just gotten word of a new assignment of some distinction in the show division of Moscow. That is where they planned for the parades, and it had all of the latest equipment, tanks, etc., which they exhibited in the parades. Also, her son, the son of the deceased war hero, had a job as a commander of a tank platoon; he was the driver of the brand-new T-10 tank.'
"The question was, `Why did that series have T for designation?' They used to be designated as the Joseph V. Stalin series. He said, `First of all, Stalin died last year. (This was 1954.) People are sick and tired of having everything named after Joseph Stalin. So, they gave it back the dignified name of "tank." Moreover, they gave it a number corresponding to its place in the sequence of technical development. And if he's the driver, he ought to know what the heck he is driving. Also, I spoke to his mother, and I spoke to
my boss who is a general who also ought to know a tank from a peanut, and that is the new tank! That is my authority for my statement.'
"The Pentagon had to swallow this one. That story was far too convincing. It was very embarrassing for them, very human. But it shows how the truth in intelligence can sometimes be hard to digest. And you can see how a simple thing like the re-designation of a piece of hardware can have major implications. It reflected some of the growing disdain that the military had for J. V. Stalin, as well as an advance in technology of their weaponry.
"Once, when he went away, I had to wait for him a few months without knowing whether or not he would return. He had been reassigned. I found him on the street and gave him a high sign. He followed me to the safehouse, which was then vacant and wide open. I was able to display all areas in the place in order to demonstrate to him that there were no wires for tape recorders. He thus was reassured that there was no taping of our conversations. He left, comfortable in that knowledge. When he came back for the appointment later, however, it was completely and expertly outfitted for the taping of our session."
The process of George meeting with Popov and charging him to find out things worked out very favorably for the CIA the entire time George was in Vienna. It was a great deal of work for George and it involved many things. In Vienna, sixty-six meetings were held; each lasted anywhere from a half-hour to four hours. A great deal of information was passed. The Agency also acquired a great number of documents and a lot of material that Popov brought with him. George photographed these before Popov returned them to their rightful repository. From headquarters George was getting instructions by cable. "Find this out; find that out; don't let him get into trouble; control him. Don't let him freewheel." Popov wanted to freewheel with the women a little bit. He had a girlfriend. George made sure that he didn't get himself exposed and under criticism by his people, so he did everything he could for Popov. As George stated, "I babysat with him; I even had venereal-disease medications with me for him if he needed them. To make sure that nothing evil happened to him I had to be very, very circumspect."
CHAPTER 6
Ferdi
During this period, while George was meeting with Popov in Vienna, he had little contact with Washington, or even with Americans in Vienna. It was then that George met Ferdi. He was alone. She was a Viennese widow with a small pension. Her husband had disappeared during the war. She had two children by that marriage, Ferdenand and Karl.
About three months after he arrived in Vienna George and Ferdi met through Austrian friends at a garden party in downtown Vienna. Because he spoke German with a Russian accent, Ferdi at first thought George was a Soviet. Accordingly, she told him that she wouldn't have anything to do with him. He countered with the story that he was an American pilot going back and forth between Salzburg and Vienna. He said he was Joe Palmer, a name he invented just for her; no one else knew of it. So, she called him Joe Palmer for two years. The romance began when he took her home from the party and then asked her for a date. They went to the Mess Shop.
Then George had to disappear-not because of her but because of his job with the Russian, Popov. He had to get away from almost all American associations since it was too easy to be spotted. At the time, he was living in the Cottage Hotel in the American sector, which was the center of most American activities. The Agency had leased it and more or less controlled it. The CIA people determined that George had to get out of there. He asked what was available in black housing facilities. They could get him an apartment under a phony name. They would guarantee the rent and they could guarantee the coal. George found an apartment, which was far out of town, in the British Zone-away from the Americans. He had a date with Ferdi and said, "Look, you won't understand this, but I have to move from where I am." She said, "I will help you."
They drove up to the Cottage Hotel and, armful by armful, he dumped all of his clothes, with suitcases half-packed, into his car. He wasn't pretending to travel, so he just dragged the things out piece by piece and filled the car. It was a QP a British one, and an official car. It had an Austrian license plate and an Austrian registration under a phony name.
When he completed packing the vehicle, they took off to the new premises. Ferdi helped him set up the apartment, which was half of a huge duplex. The owner occupied the other half. He was a dentist who had a wife and two children and conducted his dental practice there in his house. George had a private entrance into one side of the house. He had a beautiful bathroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a great big bedroom with an anteroom. The dentist was delighted to have George as a tenant because his overhead was very high and he had no coal. George guaranteed the coal and they had an abundance of the fuel. It was American coal; a mountain in Pennsylvania was moved to Austria.
George continued with his story. "You'd die laughing at some of the comical-type activities that went on there. During the course of one hot Sunday, thirteen strangers barged through my door. The lady who did my laundry came in unannounced. Some mailman who had mistaken an address knocked on my door. 'Are you a Burglar?' he inquired. I said, 'Do I look like a burglar?' He goes, 'You live here? Look at your number; look at this letter!' Uh oh, the mail was addressed to a 'Burglar,' a female. A football flies through the open window; kids come in to get it. Anyway, thirteen assorted people, all Austrians, from different walks of life, barge into my living room on that particular Sunday, and I'm still in my bathrobe.2 So, I was camouflaged, believe you me. I was in deep cover. There was some broken-down garden where I parked my car. I paid five shillings-that's twenty-five cents-a week to keep it off the street. From there I could walk in through the back door to my apartment.
"One night I had Ferdi over to eat. She stayed overnight with me. Well, this starts a romance. After all, we are human. That is what happened. We fell in love, all right? What the hell, she was free; she was a widow. She liked me. She said, `Well, as long as I'm here, I'll stay if you want me.' So, I said, `If you'll cook, do this and that, I'll go to work and I'll take care of you. On the weekends, now and then, I have to be away; I have to go to Salzburg.' Which was my way of telling her that's how it was. So she lived with me the rest of the time I was in Vienna. We had fallen in love. I know that it was scandalous, but, you see, I had been alone for a long time, eleven years actually, when you come down to it. There were the five years of the army, including four of war. There were the five years when I was in Gothenburg, Nebraska, running the alfalfa operation. During that time Velma was eighty miles away in McCook taking care of her family and the jewelry store. It wasn't that she did not want to be with me there in Nebraska; she simply felt that she had to take care of her parents. There also was a year of Agency TDY. Velma and I were already, in a sense, breaking up. She was forbidden, for security reasons, to go to Vienna. I was living black and the Agency didn't want her there. She lived in Salzburg. They put her there. I spent most weekends in Salzburg with her and weekdays in Vienna with Ferdi."
George was at least somewhat complicit in the arrangement to keep Velma in Salzburg. He wanted it that way, especially after he began his romance with Ferdi. The American contingent in Vienna cooperated with George, although they were very much concerned with the Ferdi affair. They feared that the operation with Popov, the Agency's foremost intelligence asset at the time, could be jeopardized, particularly since Ferdi was an individual unknown to them. Moreover, Vienna was quite a dangerous place, with kidnappings routine. Perhaps George's safety could be in jeopardy.
George's friend, Dick Kovich, provided additional insight into the situation. He disclosed that when Velma first learned she was to be in Salzburg, she was delighted. The music, history, and atmosphere were things that she so loved. She would be quite at home in the town since it was so steeped in musical history. But she was advised that, for reasons of security, she would be there without George. He would be in Vienna. She did not expect to be so fatefully separated from George while there. In 1953 Kovich made a trip to Germany and took a side tr
ip to Salzburg in order to visit his good friends, Velma and George. He arrived in Salzburg on Thursday. George would not arrive until the next day so Dick had dinner with Velma. She appeared very happy although she was not pleased that she could not be with George all of the time. George arrived on the military train on Friday and Velma prepared a wonderful dinner. She had no idea that George was seeing someone else. Dick knew then about George's liaison with the other woman but said nothing. He resolved not to get himself involved or to take sides because he loved them both. George said nothing to Dick about the awkward situation, but he seemed to sense that Dick knew of it. It was also clear to Dick that George was anxious to get back on the train that Sunday to return to Vienna. He was very much in love with the other woman and he preferred to be with her.
Kovich found the situation so coincidental. George's mother had gone from Le Creusot in France to Vienna to be a schoolteacher. George's father had come all the way from St. Petersburg to Vienna, where he had met his bride. Now George was here, possibly for the first time in his life, and he had fallen in love with this Viennese woman.
George went on: "Velma tended to yap too much on the telephone. She would say things that she shouldn't say. I'd usually speak French to her because it was more comforting to her, in the false sense of security that it suggested. Unbeknown to me, she had a case officer watching out for her welfare. Her phone was tapped and he was reporting on her and on me. When I found out about this, it made me nearly blow my stack. I was madder than hell with them for pulling one like that. It also caused me to get caught in a mousetrap.
CIA Spymaster_George Kisevalter Page 10