Into the Lion's Mouth: The True Story of Dusko Popov: World War II Spy, Patriot, and the Real-Life Inspiration for James Bond

by Larry Loftis

  Sitting idly, passively waiting for the stars to align, was almost a sin to Dusko. He met again with Tar and Ian on June 3 and pressed for action. Popov “urged with some vehemence,” Wilson wrote, “that some active step ought to be taken to clear up the position of his case, such as trying to get in touch with DREADNOUGHT in Belgrade. . . . He suggested that if we did not have agents to whom we could safely entrust such instructions, he or The WORM might be sent out for the purpose.” Dusko, however, had no idea of the scheduled invasion date—June 5—or that the Lisbon secret police had identified him as a British or Russian spy.

  Reigning in their aggressive agent, the MI5 officers told Dusko that this was not the time for “hasty or violent action”; they would revisit the situation when the picture cleared.

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  The importance of TRICYCLE and GARBO in the grand scheme of Operation Fortitude cannot be understated. A victory on D-Day was critical to winning the war, and a successful invasion was critical to D-Day. The Germans knew this as well. As early as 1943 Hitler had warned that a successful Allied invasion of France would have decisive consequences for the war, and on May 5, 1944, General Jodl, OKW* operations chief, had said: “Today we are faced with the great landing by the western powers and with it battles decisive for the outcome of the war and for our future.”

  German commanders had two questions: Where and when? They had received countless signals and letters from agents and spies who suggested untold locations, from Norway to Normandy. The most frequent, however, and the one confirmed by their best two spies—IVAN and ARABEL—suggested that Calais was the principal spot. Radio traffic consistently supported that location, as did aerial photos of Dover, which showed a significant increase in boats, landing craft, aircraft, trucks, and tanks.

  All made of rubber.

  Hitler and his generals believed the invasion would occur principally in the Pas-de-Calais area, but that simultaneous attacks or feints would occur in other areas, perhaps the Somme, the Bay of Saint-Malo, the Gironde estuary, or even along the Mediterranean coast. Dr. Paul Leverkuehn, Abwehr station chief for Turkey and the Near East, remembered that as early as 1943 the Allies were flying coastal reconnaissance in distinct patterns. Calais, the Seine estuary, and the sector west of Bordeaux were most often reconnoitered. In April 1944 Hitler had specifically included Normandy in the list of probable landings, although, according to General Walter Warlimont, OKW deputy operations chief, the notice brought no change of defenses.

  The second question—when?—was equally difficult. The German High Command had originally concluded that May 18 was the invasion date, and Rommel had readied his troops. The date came and went. As May turned to June, foul weather entered the picture and suggested that an invasion could only come in late June or July. Aside from reinforcements from the Eastern Front, the Germans were as ready as they could be.

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  In the spring of 1944 the German commander in chief of the western theater, Field Marshal von Rundstedt, had sixty divisions west of the Rhine, with estimates of soldiers under his command ranging from 950,000 to over 1.8 million. As commander in chief of Army Group B, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel was in charge of guarding the 2,500-mile Atlantic coastline.

  According to General Hans Speidel, Rommel’s chief of staff, Army Group B consisted of the Fifteenth Army—seventeen infantry or field divisions stationed around Calais—the Seventh Army—eleven divisions covering Normandy and the Channel Islands—and nine Panzer divisions scattered in various positions away from the coast and the reach of naval guns.

  For the Allies, a successful invasion required that the Germans keep the massive Fifteenth Army in Calais, and the Panzer divisions where they were. Accordingly, in the weeks and months leading up to D-Day, British agents with wireless sets—GARBO, FREAK, and BRUTUS in particular—worked feverishly, sending hundreds of misleading radio messages and letters suggesting various invasion spots and times.

  Yet that was not enough.

  Understandably, the Germans wanted to corroborate wireless and written information with hard evidence—a warm body. Radio messages and letters cannot be cross-examined, and German Intelligence needed someone they could interrogate to provide what lawyers call “demeanor evidence” and poker players call “tells.” If someone is lying or under stress, experts say, the body will provide reliable cues: certain postures, rapid blinking, throat clearing, crossed legs, jittery feet, lip biting, heavy breathing, swallowing, sweating, and so on. Very few people—even professional poker players—can consistently bluff without a tell. Only one in a million—Menzies’s virtuoso—can lie again and again under extreme duress without a sign of insincerity or insecurity.

  Dusko had been that virtuoso. He had sold the Germans, under countless hours of cross-examination by seasoned Abwehr and SD interrogators, on the bogus buildup at Dover, and on the massive but fictitious First U.S. Army Group to be led by Patton. He also had backed up the German view of timing—that an invasion couldn’t commence yet—by posturing that the Dover preparations were far from ready.

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  On the morning of June 5, 1944, the weather at Normandy was abysmal. Sea swells were reaching four to five feet, it was drizzling, and heavy clouds were moving in. At Cherbourg the German naval commander for Normandy, Admiral Hennecke, was told by his meteorologist that the sea was rough, visibility poor, the wind was five to six knots, and that the rain would become heavier. The weatherman expected little change over the next few days. “Then that means,” Hennecke concluded, “that the next day on which all the conditions of tide, moon and overall weather situation necessary for a landing . . . would not be until the second half of June.”

  Weather reports circulated among the army groups. From his headquarters in the Rochefoucauld castle at La Roche Guyon, Erwin Rommel wrote in his diary: “There is no indication that the invasion is imminent.” Later that morning he left for Herringen to visit his wife Lucia, whose birthday was the sixth. From there he was planning to drive to the Berghof—Hitler’s retreat in the Bavarian Alps—to personally plead with the Führer to let Normandy have two Panzer divisions and a rocket launcher.

  It was a quiet day, Hans Speidel remembered. Reports from Abwehr agents, which suggested that an invasion was possible between June 5 and 15, had been distributed among the generals in France. Prior notices had all been false alarms, and the commanders received the updates with a grain of salt. The weather would prevent an invasion in any case. Reports of increased activity of the Free French resistance in the interior of France trickled in, and leaflets were distributed—particularly in Brittany—but Army Group B had been on full alert since the beginning of June. Speidel issued no further orders.

  That evening at ten o’clock the Fifteenth Army stationed at Calais intercepted a coded message that the invasion was to begin. The report was relayed to Field Marshal von Rundstedt, as well as to troops on either side of the Fifteenth. Von Rundstedt decided not to notify the entire front, however. The seas were so rough that the navy patrols had been cancelled; surely this was another false alarm.

  Not long after midnight General Speidel received word that enemy troops were parachuting into Caen and the Cotentin Peninsula. It was unclear whether the landings were isolated drops to assist the resistance, or part of an invasion force. Regardless, Speidel ordered all units to battle stations. Between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m., more landings were reported. Shortly thereafter, Allied planes began to bomb coastal defenses and the 21st Panzer Division was ordered to move into its battle position south of Caen. The 1st and reserve Panzer groups were told to be ready to move. Von Rundstedt and General Jodl at High Command headquarters in Zossen were notified.

  At 5:30 a.m. it began.

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  Hundreds of Allied ships began raining down artillery on the Calvados coast, and Speidel ordered implementation of the German invasion defense, Operation Normandy. Just after six he called Rommel at home. Erw
in approved Speidel’s actions, ordered that all available resources be consolidated under one command, and suggested that the 21st Panzer Division would probably be needed for a counterattack. Rommel canceled his meeting with Hitler and left for La Roche Guyon. Hans passed word to General Marcks, commander of the 84th Army Corps.

  No sooner than Speidel had hung up, he received word that Allied troops had stormed the beaches. He phoned Jodl and von Rundstedt again, but there was little they could do until a clear picture of the enemy’s movement emerged. Hans knew Rommel would be furious. Throughout May the field marshal had repeatedly requested utilization of the 1st, 12th, and Panzer-Lehr divisions, intending to place them between Caen and Falaise. All requests had been denied, and this was part of what Erwin had planned to discuss with the Führer. As the battle on Normandy raged, Hitler denied Army Group B’s requests for assistance from reserve armored divisions.

  At ten o’clock the 21st Panzer Division, now pushing along the banks of the Orne, made contact with the besieged 716th Army Division. General Marcks, hearing that enemy troops had parachuted behind his line, abandoned the counterattack and moved his tanks to assist 716. At 3:00 p.m. the 1st Panzer Division was finally approved for release, but couldn’t move during daylight hours due to Allied air superiority. At the same time, Allied ships were laying down a ring of fire inland to prevent the Germans from reinforcing.

  Back at the Berghof, Hitler received the news. At his situation conference that morning, he mulled the probability of Normandy being a feint. In particular, he was concerned about the intelligence supplied by Germany’s best spies. “How many of those fine agents are paid by the Allies, eh?” he asked his generals. “Then they deliberately plant confusing reports. I won’t even pass this one on to Paris.”

  Hitler knew that the British had been flooding him with misinformation, but finding the right countermeasure was difficult. Albert Speer, Hitler’s architect, armaments minister, and closest friend, explained: “The enemy intelligence service had deliberately played this information into his hands, Hitler maintained, in order to divert him from the true invasion site and lure him into committing his divisions too soon and in the wrong place. . . . During the previous several weeks, Hitler had received contradictory predictions on the time and place of the invasion from the rival intelligence organizations of the SS, the Wehrmacht, and the Foreign Office. . . . Now he scoffed at the various services, calling them all incompetent.”

  The Allies couldn’t have asked for a better response. As Rommel begged for reinforcements, Hitler asserted that Normandy was only a distraction; the real invasion was yet to come. “During the following days and weeks,” Speer wrote, “in characteristic but more and more absurd mistrust, Hitler remained convinced that the invasion was merely a feint whose purpose was to trick him into deploying his defensive forces wrongly. . . . For the time being he expected the decisive assault to take place in the vicinity of Calais. . . . This was the reason he did not commit the Fifteenth Army, stationed at Calais, to the battlefield on the coast of Normandy.”

  The exact opposite of what Rommel had requested—an immediate repelling defense by four Panzer divisions—was occurring. By the time Erwin arrived at his headquarters at 4:30 p.m., it was too late; the Allies had established several beachheads along the Normandy coast. Before sunset, Speidel was told, the U.S. First Army had landed two airborne divisions and at least three armored divisions; the British Second Army had pushed ashore four or five armored or infantry divisions, along with an airborne division; and bridgeheads would open between the Orne and the Ryles, and in the southeast corner of the Cotentin Peninsula. Reports indicated that the former was fifteen miles wide, six miles deep; the latter, nine miles wide, two deep. Before the day was out, Speidel heard that Allied air forces had pummeled the German positions with twenty-five thousand sorties.

  Rommel’s request that most of the eight infantry divisions in Calais be released to Normandy was denied. Available infantry and tank divisions were held back, released only piecemeal over the crucial invasion days: The 12th Panzer Division did not arrive until June 7; the Panzer-Lear and 346 Infantry divisions arrived on June 8 and 9; the 2nd Panzer, 3rd Parachute, and 77th Infantry divisions on June 13; the 1st Panzer Division on June 18. It was too little, too late.

  General Speidel explained: “The reason for refusal was that Hitler and the High Command expected a second Allied landing on the Channel coast [Calais]. This question of a second landing was to play an important part in the first six weeks of the invasion. Marshal Rommel considered a second landing rather unlikely . . . but the bits of intelligence data that came in to us from above . . . reported between 30 and 50 divisions still in the British Isles. . . . From the middle of June on Army Group B thought it unlikely that Patton’s Army would land north of the Seine. . . . The High Command again refused to let divisions of the Fifteenth Army be brought up . . . until the second half of July.”

  The Germans were waiting for Patton’s massive army to launch from Dover and invade Calais. The “bits of intelligence”—agent IVAN’s report of FUSAG troops, division insignia, preparations, officers, landing craft, and more—had been swallowed whole by the Abwehr and the High Command.

  By all accounts D-Day was the turning point of the war, and Operation Fortitude was the turning point of the invasion. While Popov often didn’t know if the Germans were buying his lies, Normandy was different: “Sometimes we never knew for sure,” he later said. But regarding the invasion, “they must have—because after D-Day we captured maps which showed they had deployed their troops exactly as we had wanted them to.”

  The thousands of lives his Pearl Harbor information could have saved, his D-Day misinformation surely did.

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  While Allied soldiers battled and bled to secure ground in France, Popov secretly waged his own war. Soon after hearing of Johnny’s arrest, Dusko had sent—without telling MI5 or MI6—a blackmail letter to the Abwehr station in Lisbon. If Johnny wasn’t freed, he threatened, he’d terminate all efforts on their behalf. So long as he wasn’t blown, Dusko figured, it might work. Since the war began, he had been Germany’s top agent, and they wouldn’t risk losing him needlessly.

  In the meantime, he wanted work and he wanted to find out about Ivo. He suggested to Colonel Robertson that someone, namely himself, might go to Yugoslavia to meet with General Mihailovic. Since the country’s politics underlying the war were in play—with the Partisan Communist Tito and Chetnik Royalist Mihailovic vying for power—British Intelligence surely needed a man on the ground. At the same time, Dusko could find Ivo and their parents and secure everyone’s safety.

  On June 19 Robertson and Wilson met with Popov and explained that such a trip would be too risky. If Dusko were to be captured—either by the Germans or the Communists—it would jeopardize the tremendous gains that had been achieved over the last four years. Dusko again would have to sit idle while MI5 monitored the situation. FREAK, meanwhile, had been asked by King Peter, Yugoslavia’s monarch, to accompany him on an upcoming trip to Italy and Malta. Accordingly, the Germans were notified that he would be unable to transmit for a short while.

  About this time, the king sent word that he also had a mission for Popov. If the British and Americans would allow it, Peter wanted Dusko to visit the U.S. to participate in a conference on international currency and postwar trade, and to garner support from Yugoslavs in the States for a pending compromise between the king and Tito. Ian Wilson supported the trip, since it would be a suitable reason why Popov could not continue to supply the Germans with reports, coinciding with FREAK’s duties. “The present position is that the Germans are continuing to call FREAK,” he wrote in a memo to Robertson and Marriott. “The position is still too uncertain for us to resume normal traffic, and our principal concern must be to prevent the Germans from learning, if they do not already know it, that TRICYCLE and FREAK have been working under our control.”

  Ian
suggested that FREAK, now back from his trip, could signal the Germans that Popov had been similarly called to duty by the king and was leaving for America. FREAK could report that Dusko “hoped that either on the way out or the return journey he would have an opportunity of reporting in person in Lisbon. (In fact we would make arrangements to ensure that he did not pass through Lisbon.)”

  Robertson and Marriott agreed, and the Yugoslav Embassy immediately applied for Dusko’s exit permit from England and visa to America. On June 30 FREAK radioed the Germans:

  Had to stop for reasons given in Ivan letter May twenty. Have since had to travel with my master. Am just back but may be sent away on further unavoidable mission for him at short notice. Thanks to him English doubts of me mostly overcome but still some exist. Ivan has been invited to go on official mission for our Government to Washington. He will try to pass through Lisbon as he has much material.

  Around this time, Dusko remembered, Robertson showed up again at the Clock House. “News of Jebsen,” he cried. “Your ruse seems to be working. We’ve had a report that the Abwehr is trying to obtain his release. The Gestapo is blocking it, but there’s hope.” Most importantly, Tar said, Johnny hadn’t talked.

  Dusko had his doubts about Johnny’s release. Since the fall of Canaris, the Abwehr had little power. The only hope, it seemed, was his letter to Lisbon, which might—if Popov was lucky—end up on Schellenberg’s desk. But feedback from the Germans about agent IVAN proved unsteady. On July 3 they responded to FREAK’s messages:

  Yours thirtieth June, do not understand sudden unnotified interruption of work in present critical times. Letter Ivan twentieth not received in view of postal restrictions. Please notify urgently date departure Ivan for U.S. via Lisbon.

  MI5, however, wasn’t about to resume regular radio contact; FREAK and TRICYCLE needed to stay out of the loop until it was clear that Jebsen had not exposed them. Ian suggested that B1A toss in a countermeasure—a secret ink letter from Dusko to Lisbon complaining about the lack of activity on the escape route. If nothing else, he figured, it might provoke the Germans into revealing why they had abandoned the route, citing “technical difficulties.”