by Rick Beyer
PRAISE FOR THE GHOST ARMY OF WORLD WAR II
World War II was the greatest event in the history of mankind, and although it has been the subject of countless books, documentaries, and academic courses, there is so much still to know. The Ghost Army of World War II describes a perfect example of a little-known, highly imaginative, and daring maneuver that helped open the way for the final drive to Germany. It is a riveting tale told through personal accounts and sketches along the way—ultimately, a story of success against great odds. I enjoyed it enormously.
TOM BROKAW
Journalist and author of The Greatest Generation
Brings to life a whale of a tale of World War II innovation—one laced with brash creativity. The notion of a special Army unit using dummy equipment, mobile loudspeakers, officer impersonations, and foul rumors to deceive German forces seems outlandish, but the tactics worked. This theater-goes-to-war story is finely told and beautifully illustrated—an important contribution.
GORDON H. “NICK” MUELLER
President and CEO, The National WWII Museum
The Ghost Army of World War II is a veritable hive of fascinating information based on sound research. It’s apparent that Rick Beyer and Elizabeth Sayles enjoy the subject with a level of dedication and passion that warms the hearts of irascible military historians such as me. I heartily recommend this book.
MARTIN KING
Author of Voices of the Bulge and The Tigers of Bastogne, consultant to the History Channel
A fascinating read, and a fun one as well. Audacious is the right word for this daring sideshow that protected Patton’s flank and other American soldiers. The original art is superb and frequently humorous. A well-crafted account of the amazing combination of shenanigans and tremendous courage that characterized the Twenty-Third Headquarters Special Troops.
LIBBY O’CONNELL
Chief historian of the History Channel, author of The American Plate: A Culinary History in 100 Bites
Military deception is much like a successful magic trick. It is about fooling people into believing that something is happening that isn’t.
Inflatable dummy tanks and trucks set up near the Rhine River in Germany, 1945. Even the tire tracks were faked.
CONTENTS
Introduction 9
The Cecil B. DeMille Warriors
Chapter 1 15
My Con Artists
Chapter 2 25
The Art Boys
Chapter 3 37
Men of Wile
Chapter 4 53
Journey into the Unknown
Chapter 5 61
When First We Practice to Deceive
Gallery: A Church in Trévières
Chapter 6 81
Special Effects
Chapter 7 91
“Adolph, You Son of A Bitch”
Chapter 8 103
A Great Town
Chapter 9 113
One Bad Spot in My Line
Chapter 10 123
They Even Had Art Supplies
Gallery: You on K.P.!
Chapter 11 147
All Their Heavy Hitters
Gallery: Mail Call
Chapter 12 171
The Coldest Winter in Forty Years
Gallery: Briey
Chapter 13 189
One Last Grand Deception
Chapter 14 201
A Toast to Freedom
Gallery: Displaced Persons
Epilogue 223
Laudable and Glorious
Selected Postwar Biographies 230
Sources and Notes 240
Acknowledgments 244
Credits 246
Index 247
About the Authors 253
INTRODUCTION
THE CECIL B. DEMILLE
WARRIORS
Its complement was more theatrical than military.
It was like a traveling road show that went up and down the front lines.
— Official History of the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops
They drove east from Paris, leaving the City of Light behind and hurrying into the inky darkness that soon enveloped the blacked-out French roads. The convoy of half-tracks, trucks, and jeeps moved relentlessly through the night, stopping only briefly before resuming the journey in the gray dawn light. By midday on September 15, 1944, the men of the Twenty-Third Headquarters Special Troops had traveled 250 miles and were moving into position along the Moselle River, near the border between Luxembourg and Germany. The weather was cold and rainy, presaging a winter that would be called the worst in forty years. The GIs were understandably edgy: the German lines were said to be less than two miles to the east, just across the river. “We’re the only outfit on this part of the front except for one cavalry squadron spread very thinly,” wrote Sergeant Bob Tompkins in his diary. “No one knows where [the] front is.” They had been rushed here from Paris to perform a vital but dangerous job code-named Operation Bettembourg.
Their mission was to put on a show, with the German Army as the audience.
They were plugging a hole in General George Patton’s line by pretending to be the Sixth Armored Division, with all its tanks and might. But the men of the Twenty-Third had no tanks—no real ones, anyway—and precious little might. In fact, they carried no weapon heavier than a .50-caliber machine gun. This cast of artists, designers, radio operators, and engineers was equipped instead with battalions of rubber dummies, a world-class collection of sound-effects records, and all the creativity the soldiers could muster. They understood all too well that their own lives depended on the quality of their performance—if the Germans saw through their deception, they could attack and overrun the small, lightly armed unit. “There was nothing but our hopes and prayers that separated us from a panzer division,” Lieutenant Bob Conrad recalled. But thousands of other lives were at stake as well. If the Germans realized how thinly held the sector was, they could break through and attack Patton from the rear.
All the different dummy vehicles used by the Ghost Army
In other words, it was just another day in the life for the men of what became known as the Ghost Army.
This top-secret unit went into action in June 1944, a few weeks after D-Day. For the next nine months they conducted deception missions from Normandy to the Rhine River. “Its complement was more theatrical than military,” noted the unit’s official US Army history. “It was like a traveling road show that went up and down the front lines impersonating the real fighting outfits.”
What they did was so secret that few of their fellow American soldiers even knew they were there. Yet they pulled off twenty-one different deceptions and are credited with saving thousands of lives through stagecraft and sleight of hand. Like actors in a repertory theater, they would ask themselves: “Who are we this time?” Then they would put on a multimedia show tailored to that particular deception, often operating dangerously close to the front lines. They threw themselves into their impersonations, sometimes setting up phony command posts and masquerading as generals. They frequently put themselves in danger, suffering casualties as a consequence. After holding Patton’s line along the Moselle, they barely escaped capture by the Germans in the Battle of the Bulge, and in March 1945 they performed their most dazzling deception, misleading the Germans about where two American divisions would cross the Rhine River.
Their mission bordered on the surreal. But that is only part of their amazing story. The artists in the unit, recruited to handle visual deception, used their spare time to chronicle the unit’s adventures in thousands of paintings and drawings, creating a unique and poignant visual record of their war. After coming home many took up postwar careers as painters, sculptors, designe
rs, illustrators, or architects. A surprising number went on to become famous, including fashion designer Bill Blass, painter and sculptor Ellsworth Kelly, and wildlife artist Arthur Singer.
Some of the eleven hundred men of the Ghost Army
Thirty years after the war, when the details of their story were still being kept secret, a United States Army analyst who studied their missions came away deeply impressed with the impact of their illusions. “Rarely, if ever, has there been a group of such a few men which had so great an influence on the outcome of a major military campaign.”
They were the “Cecil B. DeMille Warriors,” in the words of Ghost Army veteran Dick Syracuse.
This is their story.
Sergeant Joseph Mack, one of the many artists in the Ghost Army, used this lozenge box to hold his paints.
Dummy tank “hidden” so it can still be seen
MY CON ARTISTS
The con-artist’s job is to hoodwink the enemy instead of slugging it out with him.
— Ralph Ingersoll
Every army practices deception. If they don’t, they can’t win, and they know it.
— General Wesley Clark, United States Army
Ralph Ingersoll had the perfect combination of attributes to be a deception planner. Not only was he a genuinely creative thinker, he was also a bold, confident dissembler. “I’ve never met anyone who was such a bright guy who was such a goddamned liar,” fellow deception planner Went Eldredge later told Ingersoll biographer Roy Hoopes. “He’d say anything to get what he wanted.” Ingersoll is the only person to have claimed credit for dreaming up the idea of the Ghost Army. Given his reputation, it is easy to be skeptical. But he was certainly there when it happened, and even if he didn’t think up the idea all on his own, he undoubtedly provided a good share of the creative spark.
Ralph Ingersoll
Before the war Ralph Ingersoll was a celebrity journalist and best-selling author—not to mention a man who attracted controversy as effortlessly as a starlet draws paparazzi. A product of Hotchkiss prep school and Yale University, he became managing editor of the New Yorker, publisher of Fortune, and general manager of Time Inc. He was one of the prime movers in the launching of Life magazine but made many enemies. He left Time to found his own innovative and left-leaning newspaper in New York, called PM. In a front-page editorial, Ingersoll wrote of PM, “We’re against people who push other people around.” The New York Times once described him as “a prodigiously energetic egotist with a talent for making magazines, covering a war, womanizing—and pushing other people around.” He acted as a star reporter for his own paper, met face-to-face with Joseph Stalin and Winston Churchill, hung out at the White House with FDR, and made good copy for other reporters.
Ingersoll was in his forties when war broke out. After complaining vociferously when inducted by his local draft board (Ingersoll thought publishers should be exempt), he eventually gave in and joined up. Entering the army as a private, he quickly won a commission and became a staff officer. He served in North Africa, then came home and wrote a best-selling book, The Battle Is the Pay-Off. In the second half of 1943 Captain Ingersoll was stationed in the Operations branch of the army’s headquarters in London. He worked alongside British planners on various strategic deceptions so that American activities would dovetail with the overall British plan.
He took to deception like a duck to water. “For Ingersoll, it became love at first sight,” wrote Sefton Delmer, a British counterintelligence officer who authored the memoir The Counterfeit Spy. “He became one of the foremost American exponents of the art of deception.” He was full of ideas to meet any contingency. “Any problem, he would just think a bit and come out with something,” said Went Eldredge, who in civilian life taught at Dartmouth. “This was damn irritating for a college professor. He was always three moves ahead of you.”
One of the British deceptions Ingersoll worked on was Operation Fortitude, a massive effort designed to fool the Germans about where the D-Day landings would take place. Many means of deception—including inflatable landing craft, turned spies, and phony radio transmissions—were used to convince the Germans that an army under General George Patton was preparing to invade France at the Pas-de-Calais, when the real invasion would take place in Normandy.
In late 1943, according to an unpublished account Ingersoll wrote years later, this collaboration with British deceivers led him to the idea of creating a tactical deception unit flexible enough to create numerous different battlefield illusions. “My prescription was for a battalion that could imitate a whole corps of either armor or infantry…a super secret battalion of specialists in the art of manipulating our antagonists’ decisions.” He referred to the unit as “my con artists,” and said its creation was “my only original contribution to my country’s armed forces.” He went on to say: “When I first dreamed it up, I considered it one of my more improbable dreams, but damned if the Pentagon planners didn’t buy it whole.”
Ingersoll had a reputation for exaggerating his accomplishments. John Shaw Billings, who worked with him at Time, complained “he blew his own horn in the most outrageous way.” And he certainly didn’t conceive of the Ghost Army all on his own. One of his most important collaborators was his immediate superior, Colonel Billy Harris.
In many ways, Harris was the polar opposite of the flamboyant Ingersoll. He was a buttoned-up, straight-arrow West Point military man. He came from a family steeped in military tradition. His father was a general. His uncle was a general. Harris would himself eventually become a general. His mother, Lulu Harris, introduced Dwight D. Eisenhower, then a young army lieutenant, to his future wife, Mamie Doud, at Fort Sam Houston in 1916. Ingersoll called Harris a “cocky little man” and thought he had “more cheek than imagination.” Nevertheless, the two worked well together. While Ingersoll was full of wild, pie-in-the-sky ideas, Harris had the military training and discipline needed to implement deception in a way that could actually work.
Inflatable dummy tank
The plan they developed, with input from other military planners, was to create a unit of about eleven hundred men capable of impersonating one or two infantry or armored divisions—the equivalent of twenty to forty times their number. “It’s really simple,” Corporal Sebastian Messina explained to a reporter from the Worcester Daily Telegram shortly after the war was over. “Suppose the Umpteenth Division is holding a certain sector. Well, we move in, secretly of course, and they move out. We then faithfully ape the Umpteenth in everything…Then the Umpteenth, which the Boches [the Germans] think is in front of them, is suddenly kicking them in the pants ten miles to the rear.” Ralph Ingersoll thought that deception was the wrong word for what they did. “The right one should be manipulation—the art and practice of manipulating your enemies’ mental processes so that they come to a false conclusion about what you are up to.”
The inflatable personnel developed for deception purposes did not see much use because their lack of movement was such a giveaway.
Military deception—or manipulation—has a long history, going back to the Trojan Horse. “Every army practices deception,” says retired United States Army General Wesley Clark, former commander of NATO and a student of military history. “If they don’t, they can’t win, and they know it.” American generals have often used it to gain an advantage. Seemingly caught in a British trap in January 1777, General George Washington detailed a small number of men to tend bonfires and make digging noises to make it seem as if he were readying for battle in the morning, while in fact he was spiriting most of his troops away to attack the British rear. In 1862 Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston used log cannons to make his front line in northern Virginia appear to be bristling with guns and too strong for the Union to attack. Earlier in World War II, the British had made deft use of deception in North Africa.
But the Ghost Army wasn’t simply more of the same. It represented something unique in the history of war. George Rebh, who served in the unit as a capta
in and retired a major general, described it as nothing less than the first unit in the history of warfare that was dedicated solely to deception. “Now, you take Napoleon and Lee and Caesar,” said Rebh. “They would take part of their fighting force and use them for deception, but when they got through, they would come back as fighting force. In contrast, our sole mission was deception.”
The Ghost Army was different in two other ways. It was designed to project multimedia deceptions, using visual, sonic, and radio illusions together so that however the enemy was gathering information, everything would point to the same false picture. And it was mobile, capable of carrying out a deception for a few days in one place, packing it up, and moving on to someplace else to carry out a completely different deception. In effect, a commander could maneuver the Twenty-Third the same way he would a real unit.
An idea of this magnitude had to get approval from the highest levels. General Jake Devers, top American commander in the European theater of operations, embraced the idea and gave the go-ahead in a memo to Washington on Christmas Eve, 1943. Military historian Jonathan Gawne, author of Ghosts of the ETO, has argued that Devers deserves the lion’s share of the credit for the creation of the Ghost Army. “Lots of people suggest things,” he said, “but it was Devers that had his name on the bottom of the memo and thus his butt on the line.” Once General Dwight D. Eisenhower replaced Devers in January 1945, he, too, became an enthusiastic supporter of the endeavor.
The new unit was officially activated on January 20, 1944, at Camp Forrest, Tennessee. To carry out the deception mission, the army brought together three existing units and one brand-new one, placing them all under the command of Colonel Harry L. Reeder (who would continue to command the Twenty-Third Headquarters Special Troops until the unit returned home from Europe at the end of the war):
