Axis Sally: The American Voice of Nazi Germany (2 page)

What drove the woman who proudly called herself “a 100% American girl” to collaborate with a genocidal regime? What forces made her cut the final tie to her native land and betray an entire nation? Mildred Gillars’ story is one of poverty and hunger—a woman who, like the Führer she served, wished to accomplish great artistic feats but instead thrust herself into infamy. An ambitious female coping with the realities of her time, she was an attractive young woman who said “no” to marriage and instead relied on the good graces of a series of questionable men to achieve her dreams of independence and notoriety.

How that reliance played a central role in her descent into the ranks of traitor will become evident as this book examines the circumstances that led her to represent the Third Reich on radio. For the first time, the facts of Axis Sally’s life will supplant the speculation and false claims that have worked their way into her life story over the decades. The myth of Axis Sally—the all-knowing, hate-filled disseminator of military and logistical information—needs to be reconsidered in light of declassified documents from the files of the FBI, the Department of Justice, the Office of Alien Property and the Army Counter-Intelligence Corps, as well as wartime records of the German Foreign Office.

Like Iva Toguri d’Aquino, who bore the punishment for several Tokyo Roses, there was more than one Axis Sally. Infantrymen in the deserts of North Africa and later in northern Europe heard one woman speak from Berlin, while another “Sally”—a native New Yorker—welcomed American troops to Italy from a studio in Rome. The book examines the deeds of Berlin’s Axis Sally and the uneven justice meted out in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War. Not intended to be an
apologia
for a convicted traitor, this book aims to portray a life lived on the “wrong side of history” with compassion and insight.

On a cold morning in October 1928 a slim, attractive woman walked into the Camden, New Jersey offices of the
The Evening Courier
newspaper. Teary-eyed, she approached the front desk and asked to place an advertisement for that day’s edition. She identified herself as Mrs. Barbara Elliott and told the clerk that she was searching for her missing husband Charles, whom she had married only six weeks before. Her husband had left their New York apartment and never returned. A few days after his departure, Barbara discovered that she was expecting a child. A friend told her that he had spotted Charles in Camden, and the distraught mother-to-be had come to New Jersey in search of the man who had abandoned her.

The desk clerk knew a good human interest story when he heard one and called upstairs for a reporter to take down the woman’s story.
The Evening Courier
regularly printed melodramatic stories about lucky Ziegfeld Follies dancers marrying wealthy heirs, lonely and lovesick women driven to suicide, and couples finding love against all odds. Because Camden is only a few miles across the river from Philadelphia, some of the stories printed in the local paper found their way to the wire services and the big New York newspapers. In a weary voice, Barbara Elliott told the newsman her sad story in detail.

It all began when a girlfriend invited her on a double date where she was introduced to a “dark, slender, ascetic-looking” man of thirty—a linguist and world traveler who regaled her with tales of his visits to Morocco, Singapore and Baghdad. Barbara was enthralled with the handsome, urbane stranger named Charles Elliott. The two couples danced the night away at a roadhouse in Greenwich, Connecticut. There, Barbara and Charles held hands under the table and were swept away with happiness.

Within twenty-four hours, the two lovers agreed to an “ultramodern” marriage, with the understanding that if either party grew tired of the other—the marriage would end. Barbara explained their pact:

“It’s the bonds that kill love. People must be free, untrammeled. Love must not be forced or shackled…. It was a mad thing to do, but to us it seemed so right. We were so much in love. And we agreed never to hold each other back. I would continue my work as interior decorator; he, his as a tour director and linguist. ‘When love dies we will part,’ we told each other. And so by leaving love free we hoped to keep it always.”
¹

Two weeks later, it all fell apart. Charles promised to meet his wife for dinner but never returned. Heartache turned to panic when Barbara found out that she was pregnant: “I was frantic when I discovered a few days later that I would become a mother. Then a friend said he had seen Charles in Camden, at least he thought it was he and I came down here to search for him.”
²
That evening, pressed in between articles about the political battle between Herbert Hoover and Governor Alfred E. Smith of New York for the White House,
The Evening Courier
told the shocking tale and launched a citywide search for the missing husband:

MISSING MATE SOUGHT BY COMPANIONATE BRIDE
Six Weeks of Marriage Was Unmarred by Rites or Contracts
CHILD NOW COMING WITH FATHER GONE
Not for Self, But for Baby She Says, She Hunts “Pal” Husband
³

The next morning Barbara telephoned the
Courier
reporter to thank him for his sympathy and kindness. In a voice choked with emotion and portent, she told him that the money for her hotel bill had been left on the nightstand. “They will understand,” she said and abruptly hung up.
⁵
Barbara then called the Hotel Walt Whitman and told the front desk clerk to go upstairs to her room, where he would find something. He did—a suicide note written on hotel stationery:

Published in full on the front page of the
Courier
, the suicide note thrust Barbara Elliott into the spotlight. (See Appendix I for its full text.) Camden police were placed on alert and county detectives were told to be on the lookout for the deserted bride. A photograph of Barbara Elliott sitting on a wooden chair wearing a full-length fur coat and a hat popular among the flappers of the time was emblazoned on page one under the banner “Suicide.” Although the
Courier
noted that the authorities considered “the possibility that Mrs. Elliott’s unusual actions might be in the nature of a publicity stunt for a motion picture, play or book, etc.,”
⁷
the police decided to err on the side of caution. Dubbed the “companionate bride,” her story spread to the New York newspapers and the wire services. The International Wire Service and United Press sent representatives to Camden to cover the impending tragedy.

At this point, the hard-bitten city journalists stepped in to verify Barbara Elliott’s story. The
New York World
attempted to confirm Barbara’s stated address but had no success. Other New York papers could not confirm details of the story. Nevertheless, the dramatic story took on a life of its own, transcending mere details, and the “companionate” bride’s command of the front page was not yet over.

At 7:30 a.m. on the morning of October 19, Officer William Basier of the Camden police department was patrolling the great bridge that spans the Delaware River, connecting Camden with Philadelphia. In the morning mist, the young policeman saw the figure of a woman on the bridge’s walkway. Within seconds, Basier saw her remove her coat and dangle her foot over the side rail. The bridge was a popular site for suicides, and the patrolman snapped into action.

By then the woman was straddling the rail and Basier grabbed her as she swung 135 feet above the icy river. Pulling her back from the rail, he soon realized that the disturbed girl did not want to be saved. Lashing out at her rescuer, she fought him off vigorously. Several other officers arrived to assist Basier and they soon had control of the flailing woman who screamed, “This is a free country and one ought to be able to do as one wants… If I am not allowed to jump off this bridge, I’ll jump off another!”
⁸

The officers carried the distraught woman into the bridge’s security office. The policemen asked if she was Mrs. Barbara Elliott, the “companionate bride” of the newspaper. She denied it, but after further questioning finally admitted that she was the woman for whom all Camden had been searching. She moaned, “Oh, why didn’t you let me carry out my plans?”
⁹

Barbara was taken to police headquarters for her own protection where she was met by an inquisitive press. Greeted by popping flashbulbs and peppered with questions, she and her background came under increasing scrutiny. She said she was an interior decorator by profession, and that she had attended the Art Students League and Ohio Wesleyan College. She had lived in a number of cities and claimed to have a number of “influential” relatives in Philadelphia and New York whom she didn’t wish to bother with her troubles.

Soon the pressure of the press inquisition in the court hallway began to affect her demeanor. She alternately sobbed and laughed hysterically when confronted with the speculation that her story was nothing more than a publicity stunt. When a
Courier
reporter asked her to comment on the allegation, Barbara was indignant: “You have no right to suggest such a thing to me. I am on the level. I admit I am in great trouble and I tried to take the easiest way out but I guess I’ve caused trouble for everyone.”
¹⁰

Ushered into police court, Barbara beseeched the judge for mercy: “It doesn’t much matter what happens. I didn’t know I was committing an offense. I thought I could do as I wanted to. You have any promise that I won’t take my life here—I won’t say it won’t happen again however.”
¹¹

Crying, she told the judge that she had no money and nothing to live for, and insisted, “I refuse to bring an unwanted child into this world, and I was taking the easy way out.”
¹²
It was Friday morning and the judge decided to put her in protective custody over the weekend. She would remain in jail until she was composed enough to guarantee that there would be no more suicide attempts.

That night, the story of Barbara Elliott was again front-page news. As she sat in a holding cell in the Camden jail, the photograph of heroic Officer William Basier appeared on the
Courier’
s front page:

HE SPOILED HER SUICIDE
Deserted Bride, Foiled in Leap into Delaware
Cop Grabs Barbara Elliott As
She Climbs Over Span Rail
Sobs Out Her Story in Public Hearing
Begs to Die and Insists That She’ll Leap Off Some Other Bridge
¹³

As the story of the seemingly well-bred woman with the cultivated accent spread on the news wires, the press demanded answers about her background and sought verification of her story. That same morning, a wire service reporter received word from his New York headquarters that she should be asked if she worked for a “moving picture producer known to be ready to release a film on companionate marriage.”
¹⁴
Mrs. Elliott was unmoved, replying that she had never heard of the company. She stood her ground, “What I have told you and other newspapermen and the police here in Camden is the truth.”
¹⁵
Despite the allegations, Barbara received several proposals from chivalrous men willing to marry the distressed mother-to-be.

On Saturday morning, Camden police investigators became even more suspicious of Barbara Elliott’s story when a young man walked into the offices of the
Courier
claiming that he was Charles Elliott. Questioned about his whirlwind courtship and marriage, the police soon discovered that his version of events did not correspond with Barbara’s. Accompanied by several newspapermen eager to witness the ecstatic reunion of two lovers, Captain John Golden, the Chief of Detectives, took Charles down to the detention area. The police captain quietly waited to gauge Barbara Elliott’s response to the obvious fraud.
The Evening Courier
described what happened next: