So far as the admiral was concerned, it was as simple as that. Once he reached London, he would be the senior officer outside Vichy control.
He had been an admiral when de Gaulle was a major. If de Gaulle wanted to pretend that he was head of some sort of government in exile, fine.
But the commander of Free French military forces would be the senior officer who had not caved in to the Boches-in other words, Vice Admiral d'escadre Jean-Philippe de Verbey. Brigadier General de Gaulle was not pleased with the admiral's offer, which he correctly believed would be a threat to his own power. De Verbey's very presence in London, much more his assumption of command of Free French military forces, would remind people that de Gaulle was not anywhere near the ranking Free French officer and that his self appointment as head of the French government in exile was of very doubtful legality. He couldn't have that. Admiral de Verbey shortly afterward received orders-signed by a major general, in the name of Charles de Gaulle, "Head of State -ordering him to remain in Casablanca, "pending any need for your services to France in the future." Early in 1942, de Verbey, furious, took the great risk of offering his services to Robert Murphy, who was American consul general in Rabat. The Americans, he told Murphy, could use him in any capacity they saw fit, so long as it was concerned with getting La Boche out of La Belle France.
Murphy related the information to Washington, where eventually it S reached C. Holds worth Martin, Jr. Martin knew de Verbey, and suggested to Donovan that the old man be brought to the United States.
It might be useful to have a lever available if de Gaulle-who already showed signs of being very difficult-became impossible.
Donovan was aware that since Roosevelt looked fondly upon de Gaulle, he was safe in his self-appointed role as head of the French government in exile. Further, even if they were to have a de Gaulle replacement waiting in the wings, he felt they could find someone better than a long-retired admiral with a serious heart condition. He had not then rejected Martin's recommendation, however. But he believed that he would ultimately decide that getting the admiral out of Morocco would be more trouble than it would be worth, But later there came the necessity of bringing out of Morocco the French mining engineer who knew about the stock of uranitite in the Belgian Congo. That operation had a very high priority and was top secret. Which meant they would need good cover for it. Donovan's deputy, Captain Peter Doug lass, USN, had suggested, and Donovan had agreed, that should something go wrong with the snatch the-mining-engineer operation, the Germans would begin to suspect an American interest in atomic fission. If, however, the operation had the escape of the admiral as its cover and the operation blew up, there was at least a reasonable chance the Germans would not suspect what was really up. Thus C. Holds worth Martin, Jr." had been told that Donovan had decided to bring the admiral to the United States. He had not been told M'77"M"77777" about the mining engineer. The operation had been a success. The admiral and the engineer had arrived at the Brooklyn Navy Yard aboard a submarine, which had picked them up fifteen miles at sea off the Moroccan coast.
The admiral and the engineer were then taken to a seaside mansion in Deal, New Jersey, where they could be kept on ice until a decision was made as to what to do with them, Afterward, Martin told his wife that the admiral was safe in America, and where he was being kept. Madame Martin, who had known the admiral all her life, then drove the fifty miles to Deal, loaded the admiral in her Packard, and took him to the Martin dulex on Fifth Avenue. p When the formidable Madame Martin arrived, the naval officer charged with the security of the mansion incorrectly decided there was nothing he could do to keep the admiral in Deal. Madame Martin, after all, was the wife of a Disciple. So he had helpfully loaded the admiral's one suitcase into the Martin Packard, and then saluted crisply as it drove off. As a result of this failure of judgment, he would spend the balance of World War 11 as a supply officer in the South Pacific, but the damage was done. The admiral was in New York City, prepared to tell anyone who would listen that Brigadier General Charles de Gaulle not only was a megalomaniac but had no legal authority whatever for declaring himself the head of the French government. "This will never do," Donovan told Martin.
"Maybe we'll need to let the admiral have his say. But for the time being he has to be kept on ice at Summer Place. If you have to take him back to the mansion by force, then do that. But we absolutely have to keep him away from the press. I have had a word with The New York Times, and they are not going to run the interview they did with him.
But it's only a question of time until the story gets out. God help us if Colonel McCormick gets wind of what we've done. Who's Colonel McCormick?" Martin asked, confused. "He publishes the Chicago Tribune," Donovan said. "He volunteered for active duty on December eighth. Since Franklin hates his guts-the feeling is mutual-Roosevelt turned him down, ostensibly because of his age. As a consequence, the colonel would be very sympathetic to another Old warrior denied active service by that socialist in the White House."
"I can get de Verbey back to Deal, Bill," Martin said.
"But how are u going to keep him there?"
YO "For the time being-I really don't want to lock him up unless I have to-I think we should keep staffing him," Donovan said.
"Maybe pay him some Navy attention. That will infuriate de Gaulle when he finds out about it-and he will. But I still think we can peacefully stop the admiral from calling him a megalomaniac on the front page of the Chicago Tribune. "What do you mean by "Navy attention'?" Martin asked. "Send some Navy brass to ask his opinion about invading North Africa," Donovan said.
"That might appeal to his ego, keeping his role in 11@ the invasion a secret."
"And he might even be helpful," Martin said, just slightly sarcastic.
"He was the naval commander in Casablanca."
"Well, you make him feel important, and I'll arrange with Captain Doug lass to send some Navy brass down to confer with him," "What about some of the French naval officers in Washington? Can we get him some kind of a small staff? Otherwise, he'll know we're just humoring him."
Donovan thought that over. The moment Free French naval officers were assigned to de Verbey, de Gaulle would hear about it-and be furious.
Perhaps that might not be a bad idea. It was MacHiavellian.
Or perhaps Rooseveltian. "I'll speak to Doug lass," Donovan said.
"I'm sure we can find several otherwise unoccupied French naval officers to serve the admiral."
"I'll have him at Summer Place by noon tomorrow," Martin promised. The third item on the agenda was financial. Five million dollars in gold coins had been made available to finance secret operations in Africa, France, and Spain. More would be made available when needed. Five million was enough to get started.
Project Arcadia had two basic objectives: to keep Spain from joining the German-Italian-japanese Axis, and to keep the native populations of French North Africa (Morocco Algeria, and Tunisia) from throwing in their lot with the Germans. Five million was a lot of money, but worth it. Ten times that much was available if necessary from the President's secret war appropriation. It would be much cheaper to spend fifty million to keep Spain neutral than to spend two weeks at war with her.
Donovan and his Disciples knew that it had been decided to invade French North Africa as quickly as possible. That would be called Operation Torch. Donovan now told the Disciples something he had learned from the President only the day before: The Army and Navy were shooting for an August or September D-Day for Operation Torch, but he and Roosevelt privately believed the operation could not be executed until October or November. In addition to the logistical nightmare of sending an invasion force from the United States directly to Africa, there were geopolitical problems. If Spain joined the Axis, the Germans could legally move troops into Spanish Morocco, from where you could almost spit on Gibraltar. The Vichy government was almost certainly going to resist Torch with whatever they had. And they had troops and warships, including the battleship jean Bart, in Casa
blanca.
All of these problems would be compounded if the natives decided to support the Franco-Germans against an American invasion. Some of their troops were not only good but in French service; and even the least modernized of their forces could function effectively as guerrillas.
On the other hand, the French Army had never been able to pacify the ones who disdained French service. Donovan ordered the five million to be spent with the missions of Project Arcadia alone in mind. As little as possible would be spent for general war objectives." It was further not to be regarded as supplemental funds by intelligence operators on the scene. Gold was worth $32.00 an ounce, $512.00 a pound. Five million dollars' worth of gold weighed about ten thousand pounds, five tons. A man named Atherton Richards, a banker on the fringes of the Disriples, would pick up the gold at the Federal Reserve Bank in Manhattan, transport it by Brink's armored cars to the Navy base in Brooklyn, and load it on a U.S. Navy destroyer, which Would then make a high-speed run across the Atlantic to Gibraltar. Donovan's Disciples had other plans and operations to discuss, offering suggestions and seeking instructions, and the session continued for two more hours before it died down. "Is that all?" Donovan finally asked. He was tired and wanted some sleep. The rat poison and the Scotch were getting to him. "I have one thing, William," the Near Eastern Disciple said. "Has there been any decision about whether, or how, we're going to deal with Thami el Glaoui?"
"No," Donovan said, adding dryly, "There are many schools of thought on Thami.
The Disciple, previously professor of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton, believed that Thami el Glaoui, pasha of Marrakech, was not only a very interesting character but that he had every likelihood of becoming king of Morocco. "Who?" the German Industry Disciple asked, chuckling.
"That sounds like an Armenian restaurant." He was given a withering look by the Near Eastern Disciple. Thami el Glaoui," the Disciple began patiently, pedantically, "bridges, one might say-he's sixty-some, maybe seventy, no one seems to know for sure-the Thousand and One Nights and what it pleases us to consider modern civilization. He rules over his tribesmen like a sheikh in the desert, as absolute monarch, exercising the power of life and death. But he also owns wineries, farms, a bus company, and phosphate mines. God only knows how much he made by taking a percentage for smuggling diamonds and currency out of Morocco and France."
"Can he do us any good?" the Italian Disciple interrupted impatiently.
"And if so, how?" The Near Eastern Disciple was not used to being interrupted, and produced another withering look. "We could not have gotten the mining engineer Grunier out of Morocco without his permission," he said.
"That cost us one hundred thousand dollars. If I may continue?"
"Please," Donovan said, spreading oil on troubled waters. "If Thami el Glaoui were to come to believe that we were in favor of his becoming king, or at least that we would not support the present monarch-who would, I should add, like to behead him-it could be quite valuable to us, I think." Sorry, Charley," the Italian Disciple said contritely."
No offense. The apology was ignored. "The man who has led Thami el Glaoui into the twentieth century is another interesting chap," the Disciple went on, as if picking up a lecture. "He is the old pasha of Ksar es Souk. For years and years and years he was the 6minence grise behind Thami's maneuverings. He was assassinated on December sixth last, probably by the king. Probably with the tacit approval of the Germans.
Possibly by mistake-they could have easily been JEER after his son instead. The son was involved in high-stakes smuggling."
"I don't get the point of all this, Charley," C. Holds worth Martin, Jr., said.
THE SECRET WARRIORS N as "On the death of the pasha, the eldest son became pasha. The pasha is dead. Long live the pasha. The new pasha of Ksar es Souk is Sidi el Ferruch," the Disciple went on."
Twenty-five years old. Educated in Switzerland and Germany. A product of this century."
"What about him?" East Europe asked impatiently.
"Can he do us any good?" It was time for Donovan to interrupt. "He already has," he said.
"He smuggled-with el Glaoui's permission-Gruni er out of Morocco.
Charley feels that he could be very useful when we invade North Africa.
So do I. But there is, to reiterate, more than one school of thought on the question."
"You're thinking about causing a native rebellion, then?" The previously skeptical Italian Disciple was now fascinated. "The Army's weighing the pros and cons," Donovan said, not wanting to get into a lengthy discussion of that now.
"It's something for the back burner. A rebellion could quickly get out of hand, but simply ensuring that Thami el Glaoui's Berbers stay out of the fight seems worth whatever effort it would take. I'll let you know what's decided." The Near East Disciple was used to concluding lectures when he wished to conclude them, and not before. He was also, Donovan decided, not immune to the romance of his first venture into international intrigue.
"With an eye to using el Ferruch in the future, and for other reasons," the Disciple said, we decided not to bring Eric Fulmar out when we brought Grunier out."
East Europe took the bait.
"Who is Eric Fulmar?" It was the first he had heard about this operation. "Still another interesting character," the Near East Disciple said.
"His father is the Fulmar of Fulmar Elektrische Gesellschaft, and his mother is Monica Carlisle, the actress." Now that Charley had the other Disciples' rapt attention, Donovan knew that silencing him was going to be damned near impossible. "I didn't know she was even married. Or was that old," C. Holds worth Martin, Jr." said.
"Very likely to make sure that her dark secret-a son that old-did not become public knowledge," the Near East Disciple went on, "she sent him to school in Switzerland. Where Sidi el Ferruch, conveniently for us, was also a student."
I @
"This is off the wall, Charley," Martin said.
"But where in Switzerland? What school?"
"Bull's-eye, Holds worth," the Near East Disciple said.
"La Rosey. Where your boy was." C. Holds worth Martin snorted.
"I'll be damned," he said. "And then el Ferruch and Fulmar went to Germany-to Phillip's University in Marburg an der Lahn-for college.
Where they apparently took honors in Smuggling 101. The pair of them have made a fortune smuggling gold, jewels, currency, and fine art out of France-not to mention the hundred thousand we paid them to get Grunier out. Fulmar now has over a hundred thousand in the Park and Fifty-seventh Street branch of the First National City Bank. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if there was more money in Switzerland," "This Fulmar chap was supposed to come out with Grunier?" Italy asked, and when the Near East Disciple nodded, asked: "Then why didn't we bring him out?"
"That was part of the deal," the Disciple said, relishing his role as spy master. He has a surprising talent to be a sono/abitch, Donovan thought, but so long as it's in a good cause... "He thought we were going to bring him out," the Disciple went on. "The Germans were breathing down his neck. They knew about the smuggling, and the son of a prominent Nazi industrialist should be in umiform, preferably with the Waff en SS in Russia. Since he knew that it was a bit below the salt to have made himself rich by helping the French move their assets out from under the benevolent control of the Thousand-Year Reich, he really wanted to get himself out of Morocco. It made him very cooperative. "If we said we would bring him out, then why didn't we?"
Italy continued, his sense of fair play offended. "It wasn't nice, Henry," Donovan said.
W E B Griffin - Men at War 2 - Secret Warriors Page 3
