Read Between Silk and Cyanide Online

Authors: Leo Marks

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #Historical, #Modern, #20th Century, #Military, #World War II, #History

Between Silk and Cyanide (76 page)

BOOK: Between Silk and Cyanide
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'Perhaps you'd prefer something stronger, sir?'

'Yes—a good idea for Periwig.'

Nevertheless he helped himself to coffee, sampled the sandwiches, and then asked where they came from.

For some reason I told him the truth.

'You an only child?'

I nodded.

'I thought as much.'

He then sharply reminded me that the main purpose of Periwig was to bog down 'the Hun's security forces all over Germany' and that I mustn't lose sight of this when preparing the code-groups and the dummy traffic.

'No, sir.'

Glancing at his watch, he asked at what time I usually reported for duty.

'At 0700 hours, unless there's a crisis.'

'Periwig's a crisis. I'll be here at 0600 every morning. Your mother must call you early.'

He then informed me that he intended to take a Jedburgh codebook with him so that he could study it overnight. 'I enjoy a little light reading,' he added.

He slipped one into his briefcase, nodded abruptly and turned to the door.

'Excuse me, sir, but we don't allow code-books to be taken off the premises.'

He halted in mid-stride, then performed an about-turn which would have done credit to a sergeant-major. 'Are you seriously objecting? Or are you playing games again?'

'Both, sir.'

Apparently satisfied with my answer, he replaced the code-book on the desk and walked out in silence.

My self-confidence walked out with him. After working alone for so long I knew I couldn't function under the constant supervision of a military dictator. My only hope was that Templer wouldn't be with us for long.

I learned next morning that he'd been appointed head of X section.

SEVENTY-SEVEN
 
 
Operation Periwig
 

Nineteen forty-five had a miraculous start. Templer went abroad for a few days to an unknown destination (hopefully Berlin), giving all who worked for him the chance to recuperate.

However, he was back all too soon, and discovered that Periwig had made no progress in his absence due to a policy dispute. He asked me to explain why 'this bloody outfit took so long to reach a decision' and was kind enough to supply the answer: 'It's because SOE as a whole is the sum total of its farts—and they'd better not start blowing in Periwig's direction.'

He was angry with me because although Periwig's vocabulary was finished it couldn't be delivered to the printers as I was bogged down with the code-groups. Although I'd convinced myself that an active Resistance Movement existed in Germany because Tommy was in prison there, I was equally convinced that the code-groups weren't ready to stand up to expert scrutiny.

I was having the utmost difficulty in standing up to Templer's. He'd begun calling on me on his way home to check the day's progress, and seemed to enjoy watching me flounder while he made up for lost sandwiches.

One night he caught me pencilling some code-groups on my copy of the vocabulary.

'Finished at last?'

'Getting there, sir. I'm convinced the basic concept's right but I'm trying to improve it…'

He gave his 'How long, O Lord' look, and I decided to ask him a question.

'Sir, how sure are you that any of the code-books will be captured?'

'Leave that problem to me, and get on with yours.'

He was back the next night for a repeat performance, but this time Gubbins came to collect him half an hour later.

Gubbins watched me in silence for as long as he could bear to (roughly ten seconds), then shot a question at me a la Templer. 'What's your problem, Marks?'

'Verisimilitude, sir.'

'Give her my regards,' he said, and took Templer away with him.

An hour later I realized what the code-groups should be.

It took Muriel three hours to type them opposite the 6,000 phrases, and the RAF unit half a day to photograph the now completed code-book on to a single sheet of silk.

The moment I heard Templer marching down the corridor I buried my head in my hands in mock despair.

'Now what's the hold-up?'

'You are, sir.' I pointed to the sheet of silk on my desk. '… it's waiting for you.'

The way he picked it up, and stared at it in astonishment, was a moment to relish.

'Good God!… I'd no idea it would look like this.'

Neither had I till a few hours ago.

K K-wird-zweimal-gefunkelt-und………………………………………………………………….. 2727 Kalkulationen-falsch-bitte-nochmals iiberpriifen………………………………………….. 2736 Kampf-hat-sich-entspannt-zwischen-dem-Feind-………………………………………….. 2745 Kam-sur-Stelle-wie-abgemacht-fand-aber……………………………………………………. 2754 Kann-Auftrag-nicht-ausfuhren-Umstande-walten-gegen………………………………… 2763 Kami aushalten-bis…………………………………………………………………………………. 2772 4(ziffer)………………………………………………………………………………………………… 2781 Kami bestimmt-den-Auftrag-nachstes-mal-ausfuhren……………………………………. 2790 Kami gewiss-Widerstandsgruppe-n-organisieren………………………………………….. 2800 Kami keine-inneren-Kontakte-bekommen…………………………………………………… 2819 5 (ziffer)………………………………………………………………………………………………… 2828 Kami nicht-mehr-lange-aushalten………………………………………………………………. 2837 Kami Night Operation-durchfuhren-bis-Material-zu-Verftigung……………………… 2846 Kami Night weitgehendverOffentlichenwegenpolitischerVerwicklungsmoglichkeiten …………………………………………………………………… 2855 Kami Operation-sofort-durchfuhren-wemi-Material…………………………………….. 2864 8 (ziffer)………………………………………………………………………………………………… 2873 Kann mich-in-kurzer-Zeit-bis-nach-Gebeit beginne zu buchstabieren……………… 2882 900 und (ziffer)………………………………………………………………………………………. 2891 Kann vielleicht-nicht-bis-spater-kommen……………………………………………………. 2901 Karte-stimmt-im-grossen-ganzen……………………………………………………………….. 2910 Kartenziffern-zerstummelt-bitte-weiderholen-und………………………………………… 2929 Keine-Angriffversuche-unternehmen-bis-Einzelheiten-zur-Hand……………………… 2938 Keine Behalter-werden-vermisst-mit-Ausnahme-von…………………………………….. 2947 Keine Ergebuisse-hervorgebracht-wir-hoffen-aber………………………………………… 2956 Kennwort-er-durch-feindliche-Tatigkeiten-kompromittiert……………………………. 2965 Kerngruppe-befriedigend-aufgebaut-im-Gebiete-beginne zu buchstabieren………. 2974 Kommt-oft-im-Gebiet-vor-wegen………………………………………………………………. 2938 Konnen-hier-gefalscht-werden-durch………………………………………………………….. 2992 Konnte-der-Nachlassigkeit-zugeschrieben-werden………………………………………… 3003 Kontakte-noch-nicht-gegluckt-und-werde…………………………………………………… 3012 Kompromittiert-durch-Tatigkeiten-von-GestapospitzeIn……………………………….. 3021 Kontrolle-lasst-nach-wegen………………………………………………………………………. 3030 14 (ziffer)………………………………………………………………………………………………. 3049 Konzentriert-bitte-vereinbart-wenn-so………………………………………………………… 3058 Korrektion-wie-folgt……………………………………………………………………………….. 3067 Kraftwagenpark-in-dieser-Gegend-ist-verwendbar……………………………………….. 3076 Krels-und-weisses-Kreuz-am-Kusten…………………………………………………………… 3085 Kummern-uns-nicht-um-die-Erhaltung-von…………………………………………………. 3094

He examined the code-groups for at least funf minuten, then looked up at me and nodded his head like Commander Two Us.

I then asked him to look at the code-groups again, and see if he noticed anything special about them.

He examined the ones printed under F, which I knew by now was his favourite letter, then shook his head irritably. 'Come on, come on! What am I missing?'

I explained that the sum of the first two figures was always the same as the sum of the last two:

F F-wird-zweimal-gefunkelt-und……………………………………………………………………… 1551 Fabrik (en)-liefern……………………………………………………………………………….. 1560 Falschen-Annaherungsweg-gebraucht-kehre-nach-Stutzpunkt-zuruck…………………. 1579

'Look at 1551, sir [F-wird-zweimal-gefunkelt]… 1 and 5 come to 6, and so do 5 and 1. Now look at 1560… 1 and 5 come to 6, so do 6 and 0. Now try 1579… 1 and 5 come to 6, and 7 and 9 come to 6.'

* * * * * * * Missing Text * * * * * * *

were imprisoned behind wire-netted compounds, some standing, some sprawling, some kicking footballs.

We drove slowly down a long path between the compounds, and I felt our progress being monitored every inch of the way. Although it was impossible to tell which of them were soldiers and which wild animals, I asked the driver to pull up, leapt out of the car and strode towards one of the compounds. I'd spotted a powerfully built six-footer brandishing his fist in the face of a fellow-prisoner who wasn't much bigger than me. I stared at him in silence as if trying to recall where I'd seen him before, and continued to stare at him until I caught a look of fear in his eyes.

I then made some rapid notes ('Hope the bastard wants to pee as badly as I do'), took a final look at him and Templared back to my anxious escort.

'Mr Marks, what in God's name were you up to?'

'I've always wanted to scare the shit out of a German soldier.'

Our stately progress continued until we reached a courtyard without a German in sight, and we drew up outside a small office block. Two more military policemen approached the car. Again my escort produced his pass, and again one of them recognized him.

Five minutes later we were only a flight of stairs away from 'Operation Fatal Accident'. As we reached the top of the stairs, my escort confided that he knew Schiller, and that General Templer had told him to introduce us, and then leave us alone.

I wondered what other instructions Templer had given him. I caught my first glimpse of Schiller as he rose from behind a table and greeted Wilson as if they were old friends meeting for a drink. He had Tommy's stocky build but was at least ten years younger, and I searched in vain for his 'double chin' (I needed every joke I could think of).

Wilson introduced me as the coding officer but didn't refer to me by name, and said he'd wait next door but there was absolutely no hurry as he had plenty of work to catch up on. He then left us alone in a small interview room which had bars across its solitary window, and the indefinable smell of protracted interrogations.

Schiller remained standing until I was seated, then resumed his place behind the table, and patiently waited for the proceedings to begin.

I immediately set about killing him by code.

Whoever had briefed him previously had done a good job. He knew how to use a code-book, and studied the Periwig vocabulary with interest. 'So much on one piece of Seide—silk—is excellent,' he said. So was his English and I had no difficulty in explaining the special feature of the code groups. He listened in silence until I'd finished, then nodded approvingly.

I then produced a one-time pad and showed him how to use it, though it soon became apparent that he could have shown me. I stressed the importance of cutting away the code-groups after every message and asked him to see for himself how easy it was. I then handed him a pair of scissors, and watched him cut his own throat.

It was WOK-time next and it seemed to come as a welcome surprise to him. 'Makes it very much easy,' he said.

I stressed that WOK keys must also be destroyed message by message and again asked him to try it for himself.

At this point a large corporal appeared carrying tea and buns.

Schiller waited till I'd helped myself, but instead of sampling his 'elevenses' he picked up the scissors and finished cutting away the silk. I had some difficulty in swallowing as I watched him, and he seemed to sense it because he looked at me sharply.

I asked him to listen very carefully to what I now had to tell him, and he sat forward but continued to study me thoughtfully. I explained the advantages of one-time pads over WOKs and of both over poem-codes which must be used only in emergencies. Did he know how the system worked?

He asked if it was the same as using phrases from a novel (a favourite C system), and I confirmed that it was except for the indicator-groups which I'd show him later. Was there any particular poem that he'd like to use?

He said that there was and I told him to write it out for me. He did so in block capitals, and I then asked him to speak it aloud so that I could compare it with what he'd written.

Like so many agents asked to repeat poems, he spoke it in block capitals. The words meant little to me except that they weren't the 'Horst Wessel' and I again warned him that he must use them only in emergencies.

'The most important thing of all is your security checks…' I spent ten minutes explaining them to him, but for the first time didn't have it all my own way.

He wanted to change his indicator-groups by 8 and 5, and when I asked why he said that 8 May was his birthday and the 5th his mother's and he wouldn't forget either of them, but I pointed out that many agents used this idea and that the Germans were on to it, and he at once agreed to the figures I'd suggested.

I then produced three coded messages, and asked him to decipher them. He began working as if his life depended on it.

I hoped that someone would engrave 8 May on his headstone, though I doubted if he'd have one. He was having a hard time with the task I'd set him as I'd mutilated the code-groups to make decipherment more difficult, but he remembered what I'd shown him and persevered until he proudly produced the correct cleartext.

The LOP, WOK and poem-code messages gave him no trouble, but at the end of them he sat back exhausted and poured himself some tea.

I then instructed him to encode three messages (one in each system), and to make sure that he inserted his security checks. Forty minutes later he'd finished all three, and took a deep breath.

I checked each message carefully, and pointed out a small mistake. He swore in German and apologized in English, an appropriate arrangement.

We'd already spent more than two hours together, and I enquired if he had any questions.

'Not about codes. But, sir… do you know when I am intentioned to go in?'

Sir explained that this wasn't his department, and Schiller appeared to accept it. I added that I was leaving now but if he had any questions after I'd gone I'd gladly come to see him again.

He looked at me with a smile not unlike Tommy's. 'You have taken much trouble with me—very much trouble. And I am just as much grateful.'

I'd intended at this point to wish him 'Hals and Beinbruch.', which I thought was the equivalent of 'merde alors', but I'd discovered that its literal meaning was 'good luck—break a leg'. So I held out my hand, and wished him 'Viel Gluck' instead.

BOOK: Between Silk and Cyanide
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