He might have his eye on an OSS headquarters in Rome, but it was now critical for Donovan to return to Algiers. On September 8 the Italian government had surrendered, and the Maquis—guerrilla fighters in the French underground—on Corsica had risen against the Germans. OSS agents with the Maquis had flashed the word to Algiers, and the French command in North Africa was sending an expeditionary force to Corsica to help. It was up to Donovan to send along an operational group of 32 men to assist the French. He also selected a demolitions expert and a few SI officers as well as OSS-trained Corsican agents. The OSS men left with the French troops aboard a French naval vessel and landed at Ajaccio, Corsica, on September 17. Donovan soon dispatched an R&A group to form a complete OSS field unit, representing the three major branches of his organization. He instructed his men that from Corsica they would carry out maritime operations against both the coast of Italy and southern France.
Anthony Scariano was one of the OSS men Donovan sent to Corsica. The OSS set up its headquarters at a villa on the coast and from there began to put operational groups into Italy. “We used P T boats,” recalled Scariano. “It was a risky business because we had not yet gained air supremacy.”
To Scariano’s amazement Donovan appeared at the villa one day while the island was still being secured. He demanded to be told in great detail exactly what each of the teams was doing. Then he relaxed and became jovial.
“We talked about politics,” said Scariano, who was a budding Democratic leader back home in Illinois. “I listened. The only drawback was that he was a Republican.”
Donovan’s trips to the Mediterranean almost always included a stop in London, where he kept close watch on David Bruce’s efforts to strengthen the OSS-SOE partnership. Combined teams of OSS, SOE, and French resistance personnel were trained at Jedburgh in Scotland to be sent into France. Realizing that the war for Europe would be won or lost in France, Donovan wanted to be certain that the OSS had effective intelligence and resistance support for the Allied landings he knew must eventually take place. The London office had a huge job to recruit agents, authenticate and train them, and send them into France. And communications with agents in France were a very precarious business. John Bross in the OSS London office recalled Donovan’s frequent visits.
“He’d barge into town, and there’d be daily breakfasts at 7:00 A.M. at Claridge’s,” he remembered. “He’d have a German grammar in one hand and a list of people he wanted to see in the other.”
Both King Peter of Yugoslavia and King Michael of Romania stayed on the floor at Claridge’s where Donovan kept a suite. Donovan usually conferred with the two kings when he was in town. He saw Eisenhower as well, invariably urging him to support the OSS in its role with the French Resistance. The British should not be given the entire responsibility for working with the French, argued Donovan, and Eisenhower should support the OSS and the Jedburgh teams.
Whether he was talking to King Peter in London, Ambassador Fotić in Washington, or his station chief in Cairo, throughout the summer and autumn of 1943 Donovan kept up his interest in events in Yugoslavia and Greece. In both countries the war with Germany continued to be obscured at times by the conflict between royalists and republicans on one hand and the communists on the other. Donovan tried to avoid the political rivalries in the Balkans. He dropped a key agent to Tito, and to General Mihajlović he dropped Walter Mansfield, one of his law partners. Anxious to “embarrass the Germans on their Mediterranean front,” General Marshall became convinced that the warring factions must settle their differences.
Describing a meeting with Col. Truman Smith, Marshall said, “I commented that apparently we needed another Lawrence of Arabia, and he thought that that was exactly the point; some man to go in there in the effort to influence these people for the time being. Offhand I proposed that we might send General Donovan.”
Admiral Leahy thought the idea of sending Donovan to the Balkans was a good one. Leahy mentioned it to Roosevelt, who thought it a splendid idea but felt it would need to be cleared with Churchill.
On October 20 Roosevelt sent a message to Churchill.
The chaotic condition developing in the Balkans causes me concern. I am sure you are also worried. In both Yugoslavia and Greece the guerrilla forces appear to be engaged largely in fighting each other and not the Germans. If these forces could be united and directed toward a common end, they would be very effective. In the present confused condition, the only hope I see for immediate favorable action is the presence of a “Lawrence of Arabia.” The only man I can think of now who might have a chance of success is Donovan. I do not believe he can do any harm and being a fearless and aggressive character he might do much good. He was there before and is given some credit for the Yugoslavs entering the war against the Germans. If we decide to send him in, all agencies of ours now working in the Balkans should be placed under his direction and the resources we put into this effort should be at his disposal. I understand that your General Gubbins is now in the Middle East. Donovan could consult with him en route.
I feel this is an urgent matter. If you are inclined to agree to my idea, I will discuss the possibilities with Donovan at once.
Churchill did not agree, and Donovan did not go to the Balkans, but the OSS continued to operate in the region. He sent his men into Bulgaria and Romania as well as into Greece and Yugoslavia.
In the fall of 1943 Gen. Leslie Groves, head of the Manhattan Engineer District, came to see Donovan. He explained the critical nature of the atomic research that he directed, and he requested that the director of the OSS present him with an atomic spy, a man who would be “trustworthy, intelligent, and courageous.”
“Donovan gave him Moe,” stated William Casey, later to direct the CIA.
“Moe” was Moe Berg, Boston Red Sox catcher, “the nation’s most intellectual athlete” and an OSS man. He had already undertaken several missions for Donovan. In mid-October Donovan sent him to Norway. The Rjukan plant, which was producing heavy water, had been damaged by Norwegian saboteurs. Word had reached Donovan that the plant was back in operation. Berg was to enter Norway and determine whether this was true.
Berg left immediately for England. A U.S. Air Force plane took him aloft over Norway and dropped him to the Resistance, who spirited him into Oslo, 75 miles from Rjukan. In the Norwegian capital, Berg met with patriotic Norwegian scientists who told him that at least half of the production of the plant had been restored. Furnished with accurate figures, Berg went to a remote airfield controlled by the Resistance and took an American plane back to England. When Berg brought Donovan his report, the OSS director passed the information on to Groves. The JCS ordered an air strike on Rjukan, and the plant was destroyed.
On October 23, Donovan was advanced to the grade of major general. Two days later he furnished the President with a memorandum as to what might be done with Axis war criminals. “You might think it advisable to consider the possibility of having as a term of your unconditional surrender a refusal to conclude an Armistice unless and until there should be turned over to the United States war criminals in areas held by the German armies,” he suggested. “I have prepared a partial list of present German officials in that class of criminals, and will see whether other names might be included.”
Then he was off again on a trip to the Middle East. Donovan was already looking forward to the end of the war. In Algiers he talked with Arthur Goldberg and Gerhard Van Arkel, who were carrying out a mission for the OSS labor desk.
“He took Art Goldberg and me aside after dinner,” said Van Arkel. “I want you guys to draft me a statute for a postwar intelligence agency,” Donovan said. “One: It should be small. Two: Limited to intelligence. Three: Super secret.”
Donovan left for Cairo, where he attended the Cairo Conference at the request of President Roosevelt. Roosevelt, Churchill, and Chiang Kai-shek were meeting on the Nile to discuss operations in China. Roosevelt received Donovan’s reports on the situation in the Far East and promised Chi
ang Kai-shek strong support in his effort to drive the Japanese out of his country. The OSS would play its part in China, and Donovan was to go there as soon as possible to make necessary changes in his Chinese connections. When the conference concluded, Roosevelt, carrying an additional sheaf of OSS reports dealing with conditions in Europe and the Middle East, left with Churchill for Teheran, where on November 28 they were to begin a historic meeting with Stalin. At the same time that the President departed for Teheran, Donovan left for India and China.
32
Behind Enemy Lines
“BILL DONOVAN IS the sort of guy who thought nothing of parachuting into France, blowing up a bridge, pissing in Luftwaffe gas tanks, then dancing on the roof of the St. Regis Hotel with a German spy.”
That is what John Ford told people he talked with in India during the summer of 1943. Donovan had sent him to Southeast Asia to make a motion picture about Lord Mountbatten in the hope that Mountbatten’s staff might then cooperate more fully with the OSS. At the same time Ford was to try out a new Mitchell 35-millimeter motion-picture camera to make a photographic survey for the Intelligence Documentary Photographic Project, which Donovan had established. Field Photo men called the project Ippy Dippy Intelligence.
Donovan was convinced that OSS Detachment 101—which by then had successfully organized the Kachin people of the North Burma mountains into units of guerrilla fighters working as much as 250 miles behind the Japanese lines—held the key to Allied victory in Southeast Asia. At the Quebec Conference, Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill had made historic decisions about the war in Asia, and had given the OSS an important role to play. The new supreme allied commander in Southeast Asia was Lord Mountbatten. Because of his experience as head of the commandos, Mountbatten could easily envision an important role for Donovan’s OSS in both Burma and China.
Donovan had become worried by reports that the redoubtable commander of 101, Carl Eifler, had received serious injuries on an aborted attack on Ramree Island on the southern Burma coast. Donovan asked Duncan Lee, a young law partner and aide, to make a tour of inspection in Asia to report on OSS readiness to further Mountbatten’s plans. Lee was also to evaluate Eifler’s ability to stay in command.
In early November Duncan Lee flew into Chabua, India. That evening at 101’s forward base at Nazira, Assam, Lee attempted to question Eifler. “When you come from the general with low rank on your shoulders and try to tell a full colonel what to do, you’re in trouble!” Eifler shouted at Lee. “If Donovan has something to say to me, let him come and say it.”
Chastened by Eifler’s explosion, Lee flew on to China, where he had a critical message to deliver to the commander of OSS Detachment 202. Then he returned to Washington. Donovan listened to Lee’s report with dismay. He had a high regard for Eifler, and now it appeared that he would have to fire him. He set out for Asia.
John Ford had decided to include the dramatic story of the Kachin resistance to the Japanese in his film about Mountbatten. He had sent Field Photo cinematographers into Burma with the OSS guerrillas. Ford briefed Donovan in Calcutta, and he was with Donovan when 109 flew to Chabua. Carl Eifler met Donovan’s transport plane at the airport there. Donovan was courteous and soft-spoken, but Eifler noted that there was an icy glint in his eyes. Eifler carried 109’s bag over to the De Havilland Moth, a light plane of 1925 vintage that belonged to Detachment 101. Donovan got into the passenger’s seat, and Eifler took the controls. They flew over the jungles of Assam to Nazira.
During a tour of the secret OSS base on a British-owned tea plantation, Donovan was impressed by how much 101 was doing with so little in the way of logistical support. He went into the message center and sent off messages to Washington urging that more personnel, equipment, and money be made available to the unit.
Eifler led Donovan into the war room at headquarters. The general glanced over the seven maps hanging on the wall, each indicating a separate plan for the deployment of OSS teams in Burma. He sat down on a bamboo chair.
“Well, Eifler,” he said at last. “What are you doing?”
“General Stilwell told me he might want to approach Burma in seven different ways,” replied Eifler. “I was supposed to organize each one of them, and I did.”
Donovan continued to study the maps. His voice was still gentle when he spoke.
“That’s what I mean about you, Carl,” he said. “You are too goddamned ambiguous about organizing. What do you mean by organizing seven different eventualities?”
Eifler fought down his anger. “Sir,” he said, “would you like to go behind Jap lines and find out for yourself?” He knew he had thrown down a challenge Donovan could not refuse.
Donovan smiled genially. “When do we leave?”
“First thing in the morning, sir.”
As a rule even 101 men did not fly into the hidden bases in Burma, and yet Eifler was daring Donovan to do just that. Japanese Zeros ruled the skies over Burma, and if Donovan, who carried the secrets of the Allied high command in his brain, were captured, it could be a disaster of staggering proportions. Could Donovan, whose battlefield bravery had made him a national symbol for courage, disregard a direct challenge? Eifler found a certain black humor in the situation. Surely once he was behind Japanese lines, Donovan would find out just how much Eifler and his men had accomplished. As an experienced field commander, Donovan would recognize how remarkable a fighting organization the OSS-led American-Kachin Rangers had already become.
Eifler intended to fly Donovan to an OSS outpost at Nawbum, Burma, called Knothead (after the sobriquet of its commander, Vincent Curl), situated some 150 miles behind Japanese lines and about 275 miles southeast of Nazira. Since the venerable De Havilland Moth could not carry enough gasoline to make the round trip, arrangements had to be made for the Air Transport Command to drop a quantity of gasoline to Vincent Curl so Eifler and Donovan could refuel for the return to Nazira. Eifler also informed Knothead that he was bringing 109 in to see him. He set up a radio signal with Curl, which would be flashed to Nazira when the plane had landed safely at Nawbum.
Nicol Smith was training his Thai guerrillas in the jungles of Assam for the infiltration of Thailand, and that night he was Donovan’s roommate. Smith was puzzled. Why was 109 risking not only his own life but the secrets he carried in his head? “General,” he finally asked, “aren’t you risking your life?”
“Everything is a risk,” replied Donovan. “My boys are risking their lives every day.”
Donovan did not tell Smith, but he was carrying one of Lovell’s L pills. Although filled with deadly potassium cyanide, the capsule was insoluble and could be put into the mouth without danger. It could even be swallowed and it would pass harmlessly through the digestive tract. But let it be chewed and the result was almost immediate death. An OSS man who anticipated danger was taught to hide the capsule beneath his tongue, ready for use in case he faced torture.
Smith spent a sleepless night worrying about Donovan who, he said, “slept like a babe.” In the morning 109 handed his wallet and identification papers to Smith for safekeeping. “If anything goes wrong, it’ll be just as well if I’m incognito,” he said.
“That’s an understatement, General.”
After breakfast Eifler handed a parachute to Donovan. Donovan refused. “I’ll ride the plane down if we crash,” he said. “I can’t afford to be captured.”
“General, if we land within 15 feet of the enemy, I will bring you back,” said Eifler. “Please put on your chute.”
John Ford and a Field Photo crew were standing by, and they photographed Donovan strapping on his chute. Eifler and Donovan put goggles on their foreheads, and donned aviator caps, looking “like a couple of well-fed pilots out of Wings,” as 101 man Vince Trifletti put it. It all seemed like a Hollywood set with Ford directing a movie.
Then the moviemaking ended, and the two men were in the plane, bouncing down the strip out among the tea bushes. On the way over the Naga Hills separating India from
Burma, Eifler flew low over the treetops to hide from Zeros. Finally, at Nawbum, the Moth circled what appeared to be a small village in a long, narrow clearing in the jungle. Kachins dashed out of hiding and dragged simulated huts off what was revealed as a landing strip.
“The strip ran up the side of a hill,” Eifler said afterward. “It was short, but gravity helped us to slow down before we reached the far end.”
“On that day I lived about five lives,” Curl remembered. “The plane rolled to a halt, and Donovan and Eifler got out. I’d met the general in Washington, and he strode right up to me and gave me a real hug. It seemed just as natural seeing him in the middle of the Burmese jungle as it had to see him behind his desk.”
Eifler was right. Donovan was indeed a field man, and he watched with professional approval as the Kachins rushed the mock-up huts back into position and rolled the plane into a jungle hiding place. He checked the defenses of the outpost and inspected the smiling young Kachin soldiers who, as Eifler said, “were scarcely as tall as their rifles were long.” In Washington Donovan had read reports from 101 about the remarkable Kachin leader, Zhing Htaw Naw. Zhing Htaw Naw proved to be a slight brown man, erect and smiling.
“His eyes alone gave away his penetrating intellect,” Donovan said later.
Zhing Htaw Naw bowed his head in the Kachin show of respect and courtesy. Vincent Curl had told him that the leader of the OSS worldwide was coming to visit Knothead, but Zhing Htaw Naw met 109 as an equal. During the next several hours Donovan questioned every man in camp, but Zhing Htaw Naw most of all. Father James Stuart, a Catholic missionary among the Kachins, acted as his interpreter.
Zhing Htaw Naw told 109 about his people and their fight against the Japanese. He put his arm around Vincent Curl’s waist. “He is the life blood of our people,” he said.
“Zhing Htaw Naw is my buddy from the inside out,” responded Curl.
Donovan Page 57
