The Brits, in brief, managed to control and manipulate every single German agent sent to Britain to spy on the Allies and their preparations for the decisive June 1944 D-Day invasion. Not only did the British flip or neutralize every Nazi operative, they were able to assess the success of their deception every step of the way by monitoring Germany’s encrypted intelligence messages. On these two pillars of Britain’s wartime intelligence success — the “Double Cross” deception and the “Enigma” code break — stands, at least in part, the great Allied victory in Europe. But lest the Brits get too cocky about their espionage genius, it’s worth noting that, at the very time they were deceiving the Germans, they were themselves being deceived by the Soviets, who had planted their own spies at the heart of Britain’s MI6 and MI5 services.
No wonder the post-World War II generation has been spy-crazy. Espionage changed the course of the war and animated the Cold War that followed. As Macintyre writes at the end of his saga, “The main thrust of the deception was an undisputed, unalloyed, world-changing triumph.” So completely did the Germans swallow the central lie — that the decisive D-Day target was the Pas de Calais — that a week after the actual landing in Normandy, the Germans were still holding dozens of divisions in reserve for what they believed would be the real attack by Gen. George Patton. Even in 1946, German Gen. Alfred Jodl was still patting himself on the back for having deterred Patton, who was actually heading a phantom army that existed only in the phony, British-dictated intelligence reports and a few props to reinforce the deception.
This story was first revealed in detail by J.C. Masterman, one of the architects of the deception scheme, in his 1972 book, “The Double-Cross System.” Its publication was said to have outraged Masterman’s former colleagues, but not so much that they stopped him from exhibiting this espionage gem. Indeed, for a post-imperial Britain, the reputation for intelligence prowess has been a special merit badge, not to mention a marketing tool for all those James Bond films.
Masterman introduced the world 40 years ago to the theatrical roster of British double agents who pretended to be working for the Germans: the Balkan playboy known as “Tricycle,” the brilliant Spanish fabricator code-named “Garbo,” the patriotic Polish back-stabber called “Brutus,” the high-society temptress dubbed “Bronx” and the impetuous Frenchwoman code-named “Treasure,” who nearly blew the operation in a pique over the death of her pet poodle, Babs. A spy novelist couldn’t invent characters as colorful as these, and Macintyre wisely lets newly declassified documents, private letters and personal recollections tell the story.
.jpg)
Loading...
Comments