Six Faces of Courage

M. R. D. Foot

• Editorial: Leo Cooper
• Año: 2003
• ISBN:
  9781783379699
• Categoría: Geschichte
• Categoría: Zweiter Weltkrieg

Professor Michael Foot is indisputably the greatest authority on the activities of SOE in Europe during WW2. In Six Faces of Courage he selects six of the bravest of the brave agents and describes their backgrounds, activities and characters. Truly inspiring reading complemented by an updated introduction that sets the scene superbly. This excellent and successful book gives the reader a real insight to what it meant to be a SOE agent in Nazi-occupied Europe.

1

Resisters and resistance movements

As the great war of 1939–45, the second of last century’s world wars, recedes in time, its shape in history becomes more clear. People get less obsessed with the fate of their own family, their own province, their own country, and are more ready to take notice of what happened to other people in other places. It is plain already that within this world war there were really two big wars in parallel: the struggle with Nazi Germany – which from the Germans’ point of view was the Nazis’ struggle for world supremacy – and the struggle with the Japanese, who tried to set up by force their own ‘Greater East Asia Co–Prosperity Sphere’.

Mixed in with these two great contests between great powers, there were several other wars. For example, the Spanish Civil War of 1936–9, a sort of dress rehearsal for the impending conflict for mastery in Europe; the Russo–Finnish Winter War of 1939–40; the Yugoslav Civil War of 1941–6 and the Chinese Civil War of 1934–49. In Palestine and Vietnam, among many other colonies, the early forties saw the preparatory stages of wars of national liberation, in which the main fighting still lay ahead in the winter of 1944–5, when Weizmann, the creator of modern Israel, was expressing ‘deep moral indignation and horror’ at Lord Moyne’s murder by Jewish gunmen¹ (one of them later Prime Minister of Israel), and Ho Chi Minh’s life was about to be saved by American secret service doctors.²

None of these wars was decided, as most earlier wars had been, by the efforts of uniformed armed forces alone. Since the United States’ Civil War of 1861–5 and the German Civil War of 1866, the seven weeks’ war between Prussia and Austria, the impact of railways on war had been marked, and the World War of 1914–18 had also shown the strategic weight of industrial power, which weighed in heavily again next time. Moreover, the next World War saw activity almost everywhere, in territories overrun by the fighting, by a combatant force that had not had much chance to act in 1914–18: resistance.

The 1914 war’s proximate cause was a Serb student’s act of resistance, the assassination at Sarajevo. The next four years of fighting scoured out the Balkans too thoroughly for much clandestine work there to be conceivable. In the wastes of eastern Europe there was some guerilla activity of an unorganized kind – not much more than banditry – which became more serious during the Russian Civil War of 1917–20 until it was cleaned up by Trotsky’s Red Army. The Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916 was a dismal failure at the time, but was so clumsily put down that it had a posthumous success: the Irish republic of today claims to date back to it. The Rising was an act of resistance if ever there was one, presaging the Troubles of 1919–22 and since 1969; items in the secular struggle between Ireland and England that has raged since the twelfth century and is far from over today (a distant bomb resounded as this paragraph was being revised in north London in 1977).

The main resistance movement in 1914–18, the Arab revolt against the Turks, became world-famous, and had a perceptible impact on the course of the war. This revolt, guided in part by the genius of T. E. Lawrence, liberated the Arabian peninsula and helped British imperial troops to conquer Mesopotamia and the Levant coast from Gaza to Alexandretta, with results a lot less satisfying politically to the Arabs than they or Lawrence had hoped. Lawrence has left a tremendous legend, and wrote a tremendous book, Seven Pillars of Wisdom;³ in an even less heroic age than his, thousands of young men hoped they could imitate him.

During the wars of 1939–45 no new Lawrence appeared, nobody having quite the combination of brain, daring, eccentricity, opportunity and luck. There might have been an opportunity in China, had the Chinese not thrown up Mao Tse-tung and Chou En-lai, who read Lawrence, approved – indeed, took up – his doctrine of irregular warfare, and were far from sharing his hatred of politics. And in Europe too there was local talent enough to lead resistance; none of the brilliant strangers sent in from America, Britain or Russia to help were able to work Lawrence’s magic. Instead a few produced some passable imitations of Robert Jordan, the hero of Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.⁴

All over Nazi- and Fascist-occupied Europe there was resistance to the fact of occupation. Outside the two home countries of Germany and Italy, this took several forms, usually including armed insurrection, and many Italian opponents of Fascism, who had had to lie low while Mussolini held real power, made up for time lost and ran a vigorous partisan movement in the last twenty months of the war. In occupied France, Norway, Denmark, the Low Countries, in truncated Czechoslovakia, in re–partitioned Poland; all over the Balkans; the whole population outside the resistance movements became aware that there were resisters around and among them. In all these countries it took only a few years of Nazi occupation for most people to decide that they wanted the Nazis to go. Even in the Baltic states, which had been independent from 1918 till the USSR annexed them in 1940 and had strong local traditions of anti semitism, even in the western republics of the USSR itself, which the Germans had overrun, republics that had lived under communist dictatorship since communism seized power in 1917; almost everyone came to agree that a Nazi German regime was the worst of all possible systems, and must end.

The official historians – except for the handful of us who write about SOE – all say that Nazi Germany was beaten by the combined armed forces, the soldiers, sailors and airmen, of the powers allied against it: principally, the USA, the USSR and the United Kingdom. People who came under Nazi occupation know this, and are grateful for it, but they know too that there was a fourth force at work besides the armies, the navies and the air forces: the resisters, supported by and drawn from the common people of occupied territory. As a rule resisters worked in parallel harness with the rest. Some of them were so wholly independent–minded that they could not work closely with anybody; they suffered the usual fate of cranks, disappointment. Some of the others got so completely involved in their countries’ politics during the anti-Nazi struggle that post-war history is unintelligible without them: de Gaulle and Tito are the outstanding examples. Parri and Togliatti in Italy, Damaskinos in Greece, Lie the first secretary of the United Nations, King Haakon of Norway, Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands provide other, if not quite so familiar, instances. Resisters were an infinitely varied lot; not many generalizations can apply to them.

One or two can be ventured, all the same. They shared one aim in Europe, at least after 22 June 1941 – the day the German attack on the USSR began: that aim was to get rid of German Nazi occupation. And they shared one characteristic besides bravery: contrariness. They were disputatious, argumentative, non–conformist, did not enjoy being ordered about. An unusually high proportion of them were women, well before some of their daughters got going in the women’s liberation movements of today. And they all, without exception, tried to be brave, even though when it came to the point of danger some turned out arrant cowards.⁵

The first, indispensable task for a resister was to make an act of will: to form a private, unshakeable determination that the Germans must go. ‘He that wills the end, will the means’; yet means and opportunity had to fit together. Each country had its own systems, methods, favoured forms of organization. Some were more easily reached by particular great powers than others; for instance, the nearness of the Red Army with its penchant for partisans gave a distinctive flavour to resistance in eastern Europe. Distance, or proximity, could not help affecting the course, the scale and the kind of each resistance struggle.

There was much talk in the 1950s and 60s of the European resistance struggle, but the truth is that none existed on a continental scale. The communist-dominated partisan movements were all infused with similar doctrines, including enthusiasm for ‘our gallant Soviet ally’; without whose sublime efforts the rest of the continent would indeed probably have gone under. The paradox of freedom being saved by an unfree state is odd, but need not blind us to the points at issue, which are two. The partisan movements, though usually important, nowhere constituted the whole of the resistance effort, and this effort was everywhere organized on a local or a national and not on a supranational or European basis.

Many people hated the Nazis, and longed to see them depart, but never found a chance to do anything about sending them packing. Others had more insight or more luck. Leo Baeck, for an eminent example, a leading rabbi in Germany in the thirties, would not flee from the Nazi menace, and could not believe it was wholly evil. He was arrested in 1943 and put in the concentration camp of Theresienstadt, and there used to lecture, most evenings, quietly, to anybody who would come to listen. He discussed the philosophical doctrines of Plato and Aristotle, or recited the great Greek classic dramas, which he knew by heart, in his own German translation. This, in a punishment camp run by the death’s head division of the SS, was an individual act that ran counter to the whole system of Nazi dictatorship; though unarmed, it was a significant act of resistance and of courage. When the camp was liberated, the former prisoners proposed to lynch their guards. Baeck gently remarked that it would be more just to put them on trial, and had a personality strong enough to impose his humane impulse even on that starving and exasperated mob.

Few people have such strength of personality, or so keen a sense of what is due to law, and few people have Baeck’s intellect or his bravery. Only at that level of austere originality could resisters make much impact as individuals. As a rule they had to form into groups, to exercise any real effect, and in spite of working against the cult of leadership that was one of the central doctrines of Fascism and Nazism, they needed to have leaders themselves. Resistance leaders were not worshipped by crowds numbering scores of thousands, chanting Sieg Heil, Sieg Heil or Duce Duce; their smaller followings were no less devoted than Hitler’s and Mussolini’s, but behaved in a more modest way. Leaders were indispensable: leading from in front at the rare moments of action, providing guidance, understanding of wider issues, hope, a broader view, in the quieter but hardly less dangerous spells in between.

Besides, it was a good deal safer for groups of resisters to deal with other groups, or with outside authorities, through a single channel than through several. Never multiply risks was a vital resisters’ rule; not always followed even by the best of them. When, for instance, one of the first V-1 pilotless buzz-bombs ever fired, for testing purposes in the Baltic, accidentally went off course and crash-landed (without exploding) on the Danish island of Bornholm, some quickwitted Danes photographed the wreckage before the Germans got to it. The photographs were passed to a network of spies in Copenhagen, senior men who were in touch with London. They thought them so important that they forwarded several copies, through separate channels; one at least of their less experienced messengers was caught.⁶ London got the material all right, but so did Berlin. All the photographers were arrested; they seized an heroic occasion to keep silent.

The history of resistance, everywhere, is cram full of incidents like this: blind folly and blind heroism marching in step. Before we get too deep in narrative or obsessed by anecdote, we need to spell out resisters’ tasks more carefully. What sorts of work could they do to lessen the Germans’ hold on their countries? Wishing alone is never strong enough to get rid of a secret policeman.

There were three kinds of work that could affect the course of the occupation and of the war: work for military intelligence, work in hiding other people and helping them to escape, and work on subversion. Subversion in turn could be of several kinds, ranging through rumour–spreading and other kinds of propaganda – such as the distributing of leaflets and illegal newspapers – to minor and major sabotage, and from minor attacks on troops to full–blooded insurrection. Of each of these three main categories, intelligence, escape and subversion, a little more needs to be said.

The occupied peoples could not rely on getting rid of the Nazis by themselves, they were much too weak. In every occupied state, the first thing everyone had to realize was how very much too weak they had just been proved to be, by the fact of defeat. Even in a state as strong – potentially – as the USSR, nothing like enough had been done in time to make that potential strength actual, before the Germans struck. So the occupied had to look to those who were still free of the Nazis, to the main Russian, British and American forces, on whose efforts as well as their own everyone’s hopes of a successful end to the war had to rest.

From these forces’ point of view, intelligence about the enemy was of first-rate importance. All commanders depended, for every plan they made, on knowledge of who and where their enemy was and what he was doing. Much of this knowledge they could get for themselves, through active patrolling; some of it a very few of them could get from decipher; but much more information could be made available to them, if they could get in touch with eyewitnesses actually on the occupied spot.

Some units in the Allied armies, such as armoured car regiments, specialized in patrolling for intelligence – not all with the daring of Bob Melot of the SAS, who spent several days sitting beside the roadside in North Africa, wearing a sheet over his uniform, and noting particulars, which he wirelessed back to base each night, of the Afrika Korps as it drove past this apparent Bedu. Navies necessarily included patrol craft, not made much less useful by the introduction during the war of radar: sightings by eye were then almost always much more informative than sightings on a radar screen. Air reconnaissance and ground intelligence provided from resistance sources could be knitted together firmly to provide excellent information, on which tactics and even strategy could be based.

Almost any news from enemy-occupied territory was worth having. What came out officially by Axis broadcasts was certainly worth listening to, and equally certainly had been doctored by the Nazi propaganda machine before being put on the air. Broadcasts at least could be picked up immediately; newspapers, much fuller of nuggets for the intelligence analyst, might take weeks to get into his hands. It is true that there was a constant traffic of both sides’ secret agents, in both directions, but this was not the sort of traffic that could easily manage armfuls of newspapers. Most newspapers from occupied Europe that reached London at all had to come round through Lisbon or Stockholm or Vladivostok, and on by sea or air. Moscow, not being at war with Bulgaria (except for a few days in September 1944), could do a little better, traffic across the Black Sea allowing. Washington, being farther away, necessarily did worse. Main news items could be picked up fast enough in Switzerland, and wirelessed out; the intelligence requirement was rather for such items as the stock exchange prices and the small advertisements.

Newspapers provided invaluable economic intelligence, in spite of all the efforts made by censorship to keep vitally important items from being published. A spy – provided he or she could communicate – was of course a far better source than a newspaper for this kind of information, but hardly any of the wartime spies of whom we know was rightly placed for this work, in a big government office. Significantly enough, the best-known case is that of Harry Dexter White, who worked in the United States treasury for the secret services of the USSR, which were supposed to be on the same side as the United States in the war, not against them. There may be other cases, that have never come to light: the truly successful spies are the ones whose names never get into the news media, at least in their lifetimes.

Less sensational, much more practical work could be done by people far from government directing staffs, who yet had economic data under their hands that mattered: railway clerks. Ideally, an intelligence network would include a clerk-typist at a main railway junction, who worked in an office so large that no one would notice if he (or she) took an extra copy of everything typed, and took it home in the evenings. This, like so many tricks of the intelligence trade, is an old one: the senior typewriter (in those days a person, not a machine) in Dublin Castle in 1919, a highly respected lady who had been many years in government service and did all the really secret typing, had an extra copy of everything she typed in Michael Collins’s hands by seven o’clock every weekday evening. No wonder Collins saw the backs of the British. A Belgian intelligence circuit, run by a man who had done the same sort of thing in 1914–18, had a similar agent on the station staff at Namur in 1942–3, who saw and collected notes (among other things) on all the goods traffic between the Ruhr and the U-boat bases along the Biscay coast of France. This material he passed to his secret chief, who was able to transmit it to the Belgian government-in-exile in London, usually by clandestine short-wave wireless. Sometimes, if the sheer bulk was too great to be compressed into a telegram, the RAF would send a light aircraft across to fetch suitcases full of it.⁷ Either way, the data soon got to the British admiralty and helped to decide the Battle of the Atlantic, one of the most crucial of the war. More on the methods of transmission – a vital point for clandestine workers of all kinds –when we come to actual examples later on.⁸ We need to go into more detail about what got transmitted.

A great deal of economic intelligence was available in print, for those who had the learning and the energy to quarry it out of great libraries. Europe’s geolog...

Índice

• Front Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Preface by R.V. Jones
• Author’s note
• 1 Resisters and resistance movements
• 2 Jean Moulin
• 3 Marie-Madeleine Fourcade
• 4 Harry Peulevé
• 5 Victor Gerson
• 6 Andrée de Jongh
• 7 Witold Pilecki
• 8 Conclusion
• Chapter Notes
• Note on Books