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Hyperbole Is Like Hitler
Apr. 7th, 2010 07:59 pmThis was a world of microphones and pinhole cameras, dead drops and double intelligence. It was a world and a time where a single person behind enemy lines could be worth more than five battalions in front of it, where one intercepted dispatch could save thousands of lives. It was the world of Sidney Reilly and William Stephenson — the world that James Bond would have thrived in.
But it was also a world where both sides were more than eager to get information from the other and would pay handsomely for it; it was also the world of moles and double-agents, where even the most trusted agents could be working for the enemy, where betrayal was significantly more common than loyalty to one's nation.
Jack Abbott was a thirty-one year old British scholar of German literature that had been a friend of the Viscountess Astor; he had gone to Germany in 1933 on her recommendation, to 'see how the Germans were rebuilding', as she put it. It was only later that he learned that the Viscountess and her friends — the Cliveden set, as they become later known — wanted to keep friendly relations with Nazi Germany, and intended to use him to communicate to the leadership — Hitler, Hess, Goering, and the others.
It was an experience that he cooperated with, at first; it filled him with a sense of importance when he met these powerful leaders at state dinners. It perhaps helped that he fit the Aryan ideal, with his wavy blonde hair and sky blue eyes, his non-threatening manner but close ties to British leadership, they spoke to him of their designs to bring a new age about, one where the two great nations of Britain and Germany could together exert influence over — not 'rule', of course — their neighbors.
One day, he met a William de Ropp, another British national, at a private dinner with the Führer. It was a short dinner, and few words passed between them, but there were few enough British in Berlin that Abbott invited him over the next day for tea. As they chatted, he felt that de Ropp was appraising him — and indeed, at the end of the afternoon, de Ropp mentioned something about serving the British Empire, and that someone would be in contact. Abbott was pleased — it was a chance to serve his country, but more importantly, to earn honor and fame.
Someone did contact him the next day, a man who called by phone and identified himself as codename 'Intrepid'. That was the beginning of Abbott's training. The next weeks were a whirlwind of activity as various MI6 agents stepped in to teach Abbott the basics of spycraft — the art of covert exchanges, of where the points in Berlin were that he could drop information to make sure it got back to the Home Office, of the bugs that he could use. Above all, though, they taught him one lesson — make sure he stayed connected with those that he needed to, and when in doubt, risk nothing. Risk nothing, they said, because it could be his life on the line. But all he remembered were the ways to hide cameras in regular objects, the ways to use the exciting secret code to transmit information he found.
His objectives came in, two months later — stay close to Hess and Goering, and Hitler if he could, and continually promise that the British were interested in peace, and that they were just waiting for a sign from the Germans. As he was doing that, use the system of dead drops to alert the Allies of any significant military movement. It seemed fairly simple, as the leadership still hosted soirées and public gatherings, which Abbott was invited to and always attended.. but the intelligence was slim.
Two months of training didn't make a regular civilian a spy, and Abbott didn't realize that much of a mole's job was simply to wait until an opportunity fell into his lap. As the weeks passed and he heard of German victory after victory, he fought to contain his impatience, his dreams of being a hero slipping away, and started asking about how the military was doing — subtlety, of course. At least, it was subtle to him.
He opened his mail several days later and found a letter which said that the Germans would be moving towards the Maginot Line with fifty tanks, and that they would be striking from Alsace. It was signed 'a supporter of the allies', and Abbott believed his break had finally come, that his time to shine was then. That afternoon, he set off directly towards his closest dead drop location, and passed the message on — except that he felt it would be better if he embellished a bit, to make sure that the Germans would be crushed and that he would get credit for it. So he put that there would be 100 tanks, imagining the honors he would be given for his services as the Allies swiftly crushed the German incursion into France and Germany surrendered the next day. Abbott would be made a Lord — or perhaps even given some land in Germany to watch over. It would be perfect.
-
A week later, the Germans overran Belgium and crossed into France, and the tanks never materialized at the Alsace section of the Maginot Line. Abbott didn't have too much time to ponder this, though, because he was met by Hitler at his door, who had taken time out of his schedule for a personal house call.
His last words to Jack Abbott were, "We almost missed the fact that you were the mole because you had exaggerated so much, my friend."
But it was also a world where both sides were more than eager to get information from the other and would pay handsomely for it; it was also the world of moles and double-agents, where even the most trusted agents could be working for the enemy, where betrayal was significantly more common than loyalty to one's nation.
Jack Abbott was a thirty-one year old British scholar of German literature that had been a friend of the Viscountess Astor; he had gone to Germany in 1933 on her recommendation, to 'see how the Germans were rebuilding', as she put it. It was only later that he learned that the Viscountess and her friends — the Cliveden set, as they become later known — wanted to keep friendly relations with Nazi Germany, and intended to use him to communicate to the leadership — Hitler, Hess, Goering, and the others.
It was an experience that he cooperated with, at first; it filled him with a sense of importance when he met these powerful leaders at state dinners. It perhaps helped that he fit the Aryan ideal, with his wavy blonde hair and sky blue eyes, his non-threatening manner but close ties to British leadership, they spoke to him of their designs to bring a new age about, one where the two great nations of Britain and Germany could together exert influence over — not 'rule', of course — their neighbors.
One day, he met a William de Ropp, another British national, at a private dinner with the Führer. It was a short dinner, and few words passed between them, but there were few enough British in Berlin that Abbott invited him over the next day for tea. As they chatted, he felt that de Ropp was appraising him — and indeed, at the end of the afternoon, de Ropp mentioned something about serving the British Empire, and that someone would be in contact. Abbott was pleased — it was a chance to serve his country, but more importantly, to earn honor and fame.
Someone did contact him the next day, a man who called by phone and identified himself as codename 'Intrepid'. That was the beginning of Abbott's training. The next weeks were a whirlwind of activity as various MI6 agents stepped in to teach Abbott the basics of spycraft — the art of covert exchanges, of where the points in Berlin were that he could drop information to make sure it got back to the Home Office, of the bugs that he could use. Above all, though, they taught him one lesson — make sure he stayed connected with those that he needed to, and when in doubt, risk nothing. Risk nothing, they said, because it could be his life on the line. But all he remembered were the ways to hide cameras in regular objects, the ways to use the exciting secret code to transmit information he found.
His objectives came in, two months later — stay close to Hess and Goering, and Hitler if he could, and continually promise that the British were interested in peace, and that they were just waiting for a sign from the Germans. As he was doing that, use the system of dead drops to alert the Allies of any significant military movement. It seemed fairly simple, as the leadership still hosted soirées and public gatherings, which Abbott was invited to and always attended.. but the intelligence was slim.
Two months of training didn't make a regular civilian a spy, and Abbott didn't realize that much of a mole's job was simply to wait until an opportunity fell into his lap. As the weeks passed and he heard of German victory after victory, he fought to contain his impatience, his dreams of being a hero slipping away, and started asking about how the military was doing — subtlety, of course. At least, it was subtle to him.
He opened his mail several days later and found a letter which said that the Germans would be moving towards the Maginot Line with fifty tanks, and that they would be striking from Alsace. It was signed 'a supporter of the allies', and Abbott believed his break had finally come, that his time to shine was then. That afternoon, he set off directly towards his closest dead drop location, and passed the message on — except that he felt it would be better if he embellished a bit, to make sure that the Germans would be crushed and that he would get credit for it. So he put that there would be 100 tanks, imagining the honors he would be given for his services as the Allies swiftly crushed the German incursion into France and Germany surrendered the next day. Abbott would be made a Lord — or perhaps even given some land in Germany to watch over. It would be perfect.
-
A week later, the Germans overran Belgium and crossed into France, and the tanks never materialized at the Alsace section of the Maginot Line. Abbott didn't have too much time to ponder this, though, because he was met by Hitler at his door, who had taken time out of his schedule for a personal house call.
His last words to Jack Abbott were, "We almost missed the fact that you were the mole because you had exaggerated so much, my friend."
