World War Three 1946 Series Boxed Set: Stalin Strikes First

by Harry Kellogg

  Part Two:

  Smoke & Shadows -

  Intelligence in the Third World War

  Chapter Seven:

  Reshuffling the Deck

  0700

  29 June 1946

  Meeting of the Special Services Group,

  Temporary Headquarters at the Pentagon,

  Alexandria, Virginia

  In Attendance:

  Lieutenant General William Donovan, Director of

  Central Intelligence

  Allen Welsh Dulles, Deputy Director of Operations

  Captain Roscoe H. Hillenkoeter, U.S. Navy, Captain

  of BB-63 USS Missouri, and former Chief of

  Intelligence to CINCPAC

  William E. Colby, Case Officer, former OSS

  Jedburgh commander, Southern France

  Major Archimedes L.A. Patti, U.S.

  Army, former OSS station chief, Kunming, China,

  Far East analyst for the U.S. War Department's

  Operations & Planning Division

  Colonel Aaron Bank, U.S. Army, former OSS

  Jedburgh commander and architect of Operation Iron

  Cross

  Lieutenant Colonel Russell W. Volckmann, U.S.

  Army, Former commander of U.S. and Filipino

  guerrilla forces in Northern Luzon, The Philippines

  Miss Michelle Ryan, Executive Secretary to the DCI, recording minutes of the meeting...

  “Gentlemen, please be seated.” General Donovan calls the meeting to order. “Is there any past business that anyone wants to address before we continue?” says General Donovan. All the men present shake their heads. “Very well then, let's get going. This meeting is to address several security breaches that we've encountered recently, especially in regard to counterintelligence. I've already spoken with President Truman about this issue, among others. We will be transferring counterintelligence operations to the FBI. God knows that I hate to admit it, but that son-of-a-bitch, Hoover, put together a damned good espionage and counterintelligence unit before, and during, the war.” Gasps from all the men assembled in the room, then Dulles speaks up “Aren't those cocky bastards going to get piggy and withhold information from us, Bill?” “No, Allen, they won't. I got a promise from the President that we would get full cooperation and access form the acting director of the FBI. No fuss, no muss.” Dulles looked visibly relieved to hear that. “Now, next order of business, selection of the new Deputy Director of Central Intelligence. I believe we all know why Captain Hillenkoeter is here, so allow me to introduce him into our happy little circle. Roscoe, say hello to the fellas...” Hillenkoeter stands up and shakes hands with everyone in the room, except for the secretary. “He is currently the Commanding Officer of the Mighty Mo, but after this meeting, he will disappear from the Navy's active list, as soon as he jumps down our rabbit hole” says Donovan, everyone now chuckling “Congratulations are in order, Roscoe. No mere mortal is selected to serve so close to me” again Donovan says. “Thank you, General. You will not be disappointed” Hillenkoeter says.

  “I believe that you have some important information for us, Allen, regarding what we will call the Burgess Incident?” Dulles stands up and begins to deliver his report. To sum the report up, Burgess is suspected to have communist ties, going all the way back to his days at Cambridge University, in the 1930's. All leads are being followed, but since there is no one they know they can trust in British MI6, this sensitive and explosive information was passed along to Prime Minister Clement Attlee himself, via diplomatic pouch. The cover story of his murder by Irish gangsters from Boston has been maintained, as a useful fiction. “Despite their vindication, I'm damned glad that I exiled those two rogues, Clark and Chavez, for that caper. Maybe working directly with the Germans will teach them some professionalism!” exclaimed General Donovan.

  “Now, I'd like to introduce to this meeting four very fine gentlemen,” announces General Donovan “all masters of their trade, including one man in particular, whom I was saddened to lose to the Army: Colonel Aaron Bank, one of the finest Jeds that has ever served under my command, Officer William Colby, another of one my finest Jeds, Lieutenant Colonel Archimedes Patti, our former station chief in Kunming, China, and keeper of all knowledge of all things Asian, and last, but certainly not least, Lieutenant Colonel Russell Volckmann, the commander of American and Filipino guerrilla resistance in Northern Luzon, The Philippines, in the last war. Gentlemen, please present your reports. Colonel Bank and Lieutenant Colonel Volckmann, you may proceed first.”

  “Thank you, General” Colonel Bank says before he continues, “Lieutenant Colonel Volkmann and I have been exploring a concept for creating within the Army, combat units trained in unconventional and guerrilla warfare, capable of being dropped behind enemy lines, to disrupt and harrass the enemy's rear area and supply lines. They can also be utilized to train indigenous insurgents in guerrilla techniques and tactics, these being applied as a proxy force, to minimize casualties among our own forces.” Bank continues, “We need some help in convincing the Army Chief of Staff, and OCSCC, that this is a fully feasible idea, capable of reaping rewards immediately, in the current war, and in future conflicts. If the gentlemen will please reference the copy of of our report, left at every seat...” And as the men, most especially General Donovan and Captain Hillenkoeter, perused the the materials before them, Bank and Volkmann looked at each other, then back at the men seated around the table, and felt encouraged for the first time in this meeting. “We have all the information we need here, Colonel Bank. As usual, your planning is meticulous, down to every dotted 'i' and crossed 't'. I will bring this up at the next cabinet meeting, with the President and the Secretary of War. Your “Special Forces” command will be stood up by the end of the year.” General Donovan now turns to Colby, “William, what news do yu have from your contacts in the French Maquis?” Colby, appearing apprehensive, clears his throat, before continuing “It doesn't look good for non-communist Maquis cells all over Western Europe. French communists are rooting out our network, with the help of the NKVD and GRU. We need to engage in some sort of deception, so they don't find our agents so quickly, perhaps something like a planned disinformation campaign, akin to what we did to the Nazis before the Overlord landings” As Donovan shoots a blank stare at Colby, he continues, “and the French government in exile is far less likely than before to extend any help to us, since forced them to give up their overseas colonies, except in the West Indies and South America. This time, we have to go it alone, since we still don't know how far up the leaks in the British government go. For all we know, Attlee maybe passing sensitive information to the Soviets himself...” Donovan bolts straight up in his chair, “Now wait a minute there, Colby! Do you have any PROOF that Attlee is a spy?!? If not, then I suggest that you keep a lid on that kind of talk. There's nothing better that the Reds would love than us at each others' throats. So, until you have proof, Colby, shut the hell up!” Nobody, except Bank, had seen General Donovan this furious before, and would die just as happy if they never saw it again.

  After allowing everyone in the room to cool off, somewhat, and the General to regain his composure, the meeting continued, with General Donovan calling up Lieutenant Colonel Archimedes Patti, to give his report on the Far East, “Thank you, General, and gentlemen. This is the situation on the Asian continent, as the time this information was compiled: Contact was made with Major General Sun Li-jen of the National Revolutionary Army of China, by one of our operatives, Major James Van Der Haas. Major Van Der Haas happens also to have been a classmate of the General's at the Virginia Military Institute. From additional reconnaissance provided to us by paid assets in the area, it appears that the General is arraying his forces for a coup attempt. He has requested a meeting with Generalissimo Chaing Kai-shek, and his Defense Minister and son, Chiang Ching-kuo, in Si'an, claiming that he can not go far from the battlefront. We'll support his efforts as best as we can, see how that turns out. On another front, in Indochina,
nationalist forces are beginning to rally around a 24-year old Cao Daist militiaman, named Trinh Minh Thé. In a very short time, he has forcefully taken over the VNQDD, the Vietnamese version of the Chinese Kuomintang. He has formed an opposition army, using his Cao Dai militia, the Lien Minh, as the nucleus. He has amnestied his opposition, and is now receiving training and arms from surrendered French forces at Nha Trang, in exchange for asylum. Intelligence reports seem to indicate that upon hearing about this, the Vietnamese Emperor, Bao Dai, made his way back to Saigon, and withdrew his support from Ho Chi Minh's Viet Minh, and gave it to Trinh's Vietnamese National Army...” General Donovan gives Patti a quizzical look, “I thought this guy Ho was our guy? Are you telling me that he's not anymore?” Patti looks him directly in the eye and says, “No, he isn't. He never was. He was always just angling for us to keep France off his back, while he consolidated power. We have developed some new information on him, from a friend of mine, who used to be a member of the French Sûreté in Indochina. He was assigned the cases of the most dangerous communist and independence agitators. It seems that Ho Chi Minh was formerly known as a man named Nguyen Sinh Cung, a.k.a. Nguyen Ai Quoc, and he had a long record of agitating for communist causes from the Soviet Union and China, before he created the Viet Minh in 1941. I no longer consider him a reliable ally. As distasteful as it sounds to me, personally, I recommend that we throw our support behind Trinh Minh Thé, and his Vietnamese National Army.” All the men present nodded in agreement. General Donovan breaks the contemplative silence, “Well, if there isn't anymore business to conduct, let's get out of this oversized coffin, and get some drinks...”

  As soon as the room is mostly cleared, General Donovan grabs Major Patti's arm, “Let's talk, Major” he says to Patti, who is not comprehending, “Yes, General” was the only response he had available. When someone who outranks you says “Let's talk”, one had better listen, especially in the Intelligence game. “I admire your work on War Plan Red, Major. That proposal that you wrote, along with that idiot-savant, Halderman? Have you been ghost-writing for him the whole time?” The General grins, “I bet you had no idea that I recognized your writng style, from the reports you'd send me from Kunming, from a couple years back, eh?” Patti looked overly embarrassed “Well, Sir, I, um...” The General grins even wider, “No need to be embarrassed, Arch, I admire Halderman's work, too. But he is an unknown quantity to me, whereas I am familiar with, and trust, you. I need you to do for me what you have been doing in the Operations & Planning Division, since you came back from Kunming. But I need you to do it on-site, to get me real-time intelligence, from the contacts you've developed there. Do you get what I'm saying, Arch?” Patti replies “Yes, General. I know that since you've had this conversation with me, it's already fait accompli. So, when do you want me to start?”

  *****

  0325

  25 July 1946

  On a beach near Vladivostok,

  The U.S.S.R.

  Being this far north and east, the Siberian autumn was beginning to set in, and it was getting bitterly cold. The soldiers participating in this reconnaissance mission were from a very-specially trained Special Forces unit known only as Detachment 500. It was not a part of the normal “Able” team structure, but completely insulated and self-contained, operating outside the chain of command, to give the Army the option of plausible deniability, in case they were captured. They were inserted by a fishing trawler, whose captain had been paid a large sum of money up-front, and would be paid an even larger sum after he picked up the men for the return trip. The soldiers did not know each other by their real names, only by their assumed Russian names. They were all dressed and armed as Soviet officers and soldiers, spoke fluent Russian, and had been instructed on current Soviet internal events, as they were known at the time they were taught. These men were the best and the brightest, and were driven to succeed in their mission. Failure was absolutely out of the question for them.

  The men made their way to an out-of-way beach in semi-rigid inflatable rubber boats, with muffled outboard motors, speeding them toward their landing objective. As they hit the rocky, barren, snow-covered beach, they struggled to bring their two boats inland, and hide them for the return trip. They referred to maps of the area that were surveyed back in 1919, when the American Expeditionary Forces were diverted here, on their way home from France, to restore order. They were the first American soldiers to arrive here since then, but no one but the Military Intelligence Corps and the CIA would ever find out about this trip.

  Their objective was to reconnoiter Vladivostok, and its environs and other surrounding areas, make detailed maps of what they had seen and what facilities were here, what Red Army divisions and Red Navy Pacific Fleet units were stationed here, and what the mood of the locals was. They had three weeks from today to secure the information needed and make it back aboard the fishing trawler, or their mission would be considered a failure and the operation that they were collecting the information for would be cancelled. They were not about to let that happen. The Vladivostok operation was as vital to the Allied war effort now, as the Doolittle Raid had been in the last war. Their commander, known only as “Markov”, was a true Spartan in mindset and determined to make this mission a success. Markov and his men were prepared and proceeded on to their mission.

  *****

  Two weeks after the initial insertion of Detachment 500 into Vladivostok...

  2150

  Eastern Shoreline of the Bay of Ussuri,

  Near Vladivostok, U.S.S.R.

  It was getting darker sooner, and brutally colder, and their time was up. Time for them to go. Markov had spread the word among his men that they would be on the move tonight that the fishing trawler would meet up with them at the arranged time and place, to take them to a place only he knew at this moment. To this point, he had been successful, and he hoped that it would stay that way.

  All the men met up where they had stashed their boats a couple weeks before and dug them out, began inflating them for the quarter-hour trip back. Halfway through the chore, a patrol of NKVD Frontier Guards passed by them...they stopped what they were doing and hid in the shadows and hoped that nothing out of the ordinary was noticed. A short while later, the NKVD patrol went away to investigate something more worthy of their malevolent attention. The men resumed, with renewed haste, their task and promptly cast off from the shoreline. During the trip out, Markov couldn't help but review the information that they had gathered in his head: there was little in the way of Red Fleet units here, as most of them had been transferred west before the war, to supplement the Baltic Sea and Black Sea Red Banner Fleets. What the Red Fleet had at its Pacific Headquarters was pathetic: an ice breaker and a motley collection of coastal gunboats, most dating back to the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05. All the modern equipment was going to the NKVD Sea Frontier Guards. Navy men would grumble a bit about it, but never too loudly, for fear of disappearing into of one of the many infamous bottomless salt mines that the region was notorious for. As for the Red Army, there were mostly Category B units, mostly manned by invalids from the last war, still wishing to continue doing their patriotic duty. Who was Uncle Joe to deny them that? All the first-line Army units were either west, occupying Europe, or in Manchuria, training the Chinese communists, who got walloped shortly after the new Chinese president came to power. The Red Chinese took a hard hit, but the rumor has it that they're gearing up for a counteroffensive, and just received tons of captured equipment from western Europe that they're trying to make usable...

  Markov notices a bright wavering light on the water: fire, and in the spot where the trawler was supposed to be. He passed the word along for his men to be ready, especially as they slowed the rubber boats down and began to use paddles to maneuver silently around the flaming oil slicks and debris on the water. Markov spotted it first: an NKVD Sea Frontier Guard Lend-Lease patrol torpedo boat. At that moment, he decided that he and his men were going to take it. Markov signaled to the men to
creep as closely as possible to the PT boat without being seen. In what seemed like hours, Markov and his men finally reached the side of the ship and rushed the boat as savagely as possible, taking out the crew as quickly as possible, killing a few outright, and tossing the rest into the freezing waters of the Sea of Japan, to die a slow and agonizing death of hypothermia. They quickly pull their rubber boats aboard to deny the Russians any chance of escape, and open up the throttle to head to the friendly waters of Japan, if they had enough fuel. Markov hauled down the NKVD ensign and hoisted the Stars and Stripes, the one that he'd stowed with their escape gear. They would still get their information back to Far East Allied Headquarters and the plan might yet still proceed.

  *****

  Chapter Eight:

  The Gate Crashers

  0230

  12 August 1946

  Outside the Lubyanka Prison,

  In Feliks Dzherzinsky Square,

  Moscow, The U.S.S.R.

  It was half past two in the morning, and there was an electric feeling in the air. Though he had been here many times before, he could not help feeling excitement and dread all at once. He had reached the most impenetrable part of the Soviet Union, having crafted as close to an impeccable and unassailable alias as humanly possible, and having had help in doing so, for himself and his team, from the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, with whom he still had contacts. The Lubyanka was, perhaps, the most guarded government building in all of the Soviet Union, obviously after the Kremlin and Stalin's personal dacha.

  He took a moment and drew a deep breath, gathered up his courage and proceeded to play his part: he boldly went up to the guard post and announced himself, in an affected Shtetl-accented Russian, as NKVD Colonel Maksim Avramyevich Shtein, Special Prosecutor for Hitlerite War Crimes Against the Soviet People. This allowed him to have unfettered access to the target and the target's associates. Yes, it was a ballsy move, but it was now or never, since the target's execution date had been moved up, to the day after tomorrow. He was banking on the fact that he so closely resembled the Cheka prosecutor, and that not many people outside Stalin's Inner Circle knew what he actually looked like. It would take only a matter of a few days, maybe only hours, for the actual Shtein to be found, murdered, in his Arbat office.