大象传媒

A Day in the Life of a Secret Agent - Chapter 2

By Inside Camp-X Author Lynn Philip Hodgson

The timing of each guard watch was never routine but always random. The guard never made a perimeter check at the same time after the hour, as did the previous watch. This, of course, was by design in order that any observer would not be able to predict when a guard would pass by any given check point on his watch, thus making it more difficult for any would-be infiltrator.

The Hungarian agents鈥� training took about twelve weeks to complete that summer of 1943. They had landed at Camp-X sometime in the middle of June, and they departed in the last days of August. All in all, it was very rigorous, extensive training and they emerged from Camp-X hardened beyond any other military, physical, mental, or emotional experience that they would endure in life.

Directly from Camp-X, the agents were shipped overseas on the 鈥淨ueen Elizabeth.鈥� When they arrived in Glasgow, there were twenty two thousand troops on board the ship. Andy remembers that they had to sleep in three shifts and, if you did not get any sleep on your shift, you were out of luck. They were all dressed in Canadian uniforms, complete with Canadian insignia. No one had any idea that they were secret agents, as they looked exactly the same as any of the other thousands of soldiers on board.

Training continued at another SOE school in Scotland. Andy was then shipped out to Cairo where he had his first chance to test his skills learned in the weeks of preparation at Camp-X. He wandered into a bar and sat down at a table alone. Shortly after ordering, he was joined by a friendly chap who wanted to talk and buy him drinks. A few well-placed questions on Andy鈥檚 part soon convinced him that the man was not quite what he presented. Andy determined that he was an Abwehr Agent (German Military Intelligence) and was also certain that he knew Andy鈥檚 identity as well. The drinking began in earnest. Anyone watching them would have thought they were a couple of drunken soldiers, what with the quantity of booze they were each putting away. Damned if Andy did not outlast him, though. He literally drank his companion under the table. As he was going 鈥渄own for the third time鈥�, some of the Abwehr Agent鈥檚 comrades appeared out of the shadows and carted him out, heels dragging. Never before, nor since, had Andy drunk so
much. His hangover lasted a week!

From there the agents went to Bari, Italy, to prepare for their missions and take a well deserved rest, exactly what they would need when one considers what was in store for them. Regarding Bari, Italy, Eric Curwain, the Chief Recruitment Officer for Camp-X, would later write, 鈥淥ur special Signals Unit in Bari was administered from a building next to a church and had everything a field office of that type should have; photography unit for faking documents, engraving and printing equipment, coding and decoding staff. Attached was a radio interception and transmitting station to maintain contact with agents in Yugoslavia, northern Italy, Austria, and Hungary and with our Ops. Room at headquarters in England.

鈥淭here was also a school for training agents in Morse and in the use of mobile field transmitters. One of the instructors was an Italian who had returned from a mission with his fingernails mutilated by his German captors when he had landed from his canoe at the wrong spot on the Adriatic coast near Ancona.

鈥淭here was a store of foreign-type clothing for agents dropping into countries of which they were usually native or linguistically suited to pass as such. It contained a strange collection of gadgets and stores for the use of parachute types (sic), ranging from currency to whiskey, cigarettes, to fly buttons containing tiny compasses and beautiful maps printed in silk. When the Germans discovered that men鈥檚 fly buttons hid compasses which screwed into one half of the button, the British inventors reversed the thread and this fooled the Germans into believing the buttons were normal, since they could not unscrew them by turning them in the usual direction.鈥�

Andy came out of his thoughtful stupor and resumed looking at the flashing red light. The dispatcher stood by the door having already performed half of his duties in preparing Andy and the others by hooking up their static lines. Andy was just as glad that the dispatcher had hooked him up because he was too nervous to do it himself.

They were flying over Hungary, at well above twenty three thousand feet. Andy could hear the anti-aircraft artillery booming all around the Halifax and he prayed that one would not hit the plane. They were, in fact, too high to be in range, but Andy and the others could not know that at the time. Andy could see the ack-ack bursting all around the drop chute. He recalled that it looked like Christmas lights to him.

As the Halifax approached its target, the amber, solid, 鈥榮tand by鈥� light came on. This is it, Andy thought. There was no stopping now. All of his training would lead to this one jump. The time was near. Soon the light would turn green. 鈥淩ight lads, come on now, and let鈥檚 get ready,鈥� barked out the dispatcher.

Andy thought, 鈥淵ou have to be either drunk or crazy to jump out of an aircraft at this altitude, perhaps into the arms of the enemy.鈥�

Each of the men had a number, which designated the jump sequence. Andy was number two. Number one was Major 鈥楽鈥�, an Irish Catholic. He had never touched alcohol. Never. Andy and the others were each allowed a flask of rum to carry in their jump suits. It would help to keep them warm and would make the trip down a little easier, Andy thought. Major 鈥楽鈥� had turned his down.

Finally, the 鈥榞reen鈥� light came on; it was time. Andy pulled out his flask of rum and went to take another swallow. Just as he put the flask to his mouth, Major 鈥楽鈥� said, 鈥淕ive me that!鈥� grabbed the flask from Andy and downed the rest of the contents in a mighty gulp!

鈥淭ime!鈥� yelled out the dispatcher. With that, Major 鈥楽鈥� was gone from the airplane, as though he had never been there. 鈥淩ight then, number two, you鈥檙e out!鈥� In the fraction of a second before Andy jumped, number three gave him a swallow from his flask. It was greatly appreciated.
Half way down, Andy realized that he was stone cold sober and, by the time he reached the ground, he was as cold as death. But the biggest surprise was still to come. 鈥淪omeone had miscalculated!鈥� Just on the other side of the hill, about a mile away, were the Germans. Andy thought to himself, 鈥渢his is not a good beginning for my first mission鈥� as he struggled to cut his shroud lines. He had gone from the relative safety of the Halifax twenty three thousand feet in the air, to sitting in the middle of a hornet鈥檚 nest on the ground. As he struggled to get out of his overalls, he could hear the slightly off-sync drone of the Halifax鈥檚 engines; minutes later he was free of the lines and his parachute.

Several more minutes passed before he found his jump-mates, one of who, an expert map-reader, informed them that they were lost! Although later evidence was to prove him correct, this intelligence was not at all well received at that particular moment.

Readers who have examined the appendices in SOE In France will perhaps be familiar with the instructions which were given to pilots engaged in dropping agents, to the effect that navigation by visual ground references at night can be terribly misleading. The author of these Notes For Pilots, Wing Commander H. S. Verity, DSO, DFC, reports that he became confused as to which of two villages he had approached, and spent 鈥榯wo miserable hours鈥� trying to sort things out.
The error later proved to be even greater than he had anticipated by some eighteen kilometers! However, with the enemy only metres away, there was nothing for the agents to do but to find shelter and get some rest before attempting to straighten themselves out. Accordingly, they spent a miserable night huddled together in the woods. At daybreak they decided that it would be best to split up. They did so, with the understanding that they would meet up some time later at a safe house in Budapest.

As he traveled from village to village, Andy became increasingly aware that the Germans were closing in. There were soldiers everywhere. His brain automatically clicked into training mode and he ducked into an abandoned building, changed into his priest鈥檚 vestments, and continued safely on his way, blending inconspicuously into the local populace.

Andy determined that his best course was to seek out a 鈥榟alfway鈥� safe house, in a small village along the route, but in his haste to find sanctuary, he very nearly blew his months of training. Upon arriving at the correct address, he mounted the front steps in his best 鈥榟omme du monde鈥� manner, and rang the doorbell. In a moment, a lady greeted him and he inquired for her husband. She stepped back, visibly shaken. After what seemed like an eternity, she said that her husband had been dead for six months.

For a moment, Andy was unable to explain her behaviour to him. Then, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not given her any of the pre-arranged passwords. He was mortified. He had failed his very first test. In his confusion, he muttered the words and, just as he turned to leave, she motioned to him to enter.

Gratefully, he followed her into the house and she closed the door behind him. For months, she said, she had been rehearsing the code words, in the expectation of Andy鈥檚 arrival. His direct inquiry for her deceased husband threw her into a panic. Was Andy the Gestapo? In one agonizing moment she had, 鈥榚valuated your veracity, and decided to trust you鈥�, she said.
Andy remained there for several days. They became quite fond of one another, but he eventually left to meet his comrades.

On his return to Hungary in 1979, as he tried to retrace each step of his mission, he found himself on those same steps, thirty-six years later. His anticipation of a joyous reunion knew no bounds. But a stranger opened the door. 鈥淣o,鈥� she said, 鈥淢rs. 鈥� doesn鈥檛 live here anymore.鈥�
The response to his request for her new address hit him like a hammer blow: 鈥淢rs. 鈥� was taken by the Gestapo, in 1944. We think she died in Belsen. They said that she had been found guilty of harbouring a British secret agent.鈥�

After some time, Andy was transferred from the prison to a temporary internment camp. Andy and the others were on their way to one of the death camps inside the Reich. Andy escaped during his fourth night at the new camp. It was a dreary, rainy night. Andy and his fellow captives were allowed to get some wood for a fire, but it was wet. They plugged up the pipes of their heater, lit the fire with the wet wood which began to smoke heavily, and as the guards ran into the room, they slipped out the side door and made their way back to safety.

After the war, Andy returned to Hungary for the purpose of doing research for his book. He tried to re-enter the place where he had been imprisoned by the Hungarian Counter Espionage and the Gestapo at the time when the Red Army was getting near. They would not let him enter, as it was still a military barracks at that time. He had hoped to be able to find some record of his stay there, but to no avail. The Gestapo had destroyed all records when the Red Army was approaching. For two days and nights, they had burned the records in the courtyard where previously the executions had taken place.

Andy returned to Camp-X one cold November day in 1977. I was his guide this time as I was more informed regarding the current condition of the Camp than was Andy. All that was left of the Camp were the concrete foundations. It required old photographs for reference to do a thorough 鈥渞econstruction鈥� of what had been where.

鈥淪o this is Camp-X,鈥� said Andy, as he looked around the barren fields, his eyes piercing through the overgrown grass in search of ghosts in the shadows. 鈥淭here,鈥� he said, pointing toward the southeast and Lake Ontario. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 where a good part of our training took place; the explosives. I remember the Sunday afternoons we had off. We would play football (soccer) for hours. The Camp trainers loved it because the physical training was great for us. Those damned craters!鈥� said Andy. 鈥淲e had the damnedest time clearing those things while we were trying to play.鈥� The explosions of the previous day鈥檚 training of course caused the craters.

As he told me, the one thing that he remembered most out of all of his training, was the open field 鈥榚vasive鈥� exercise. 鈥淭hey would put you in an open field and you had to go undetected for as long as you possibly could. The way to do this and be undetected was to remain perfectly still as it is difficult to see an unmoving target. If you moved and were spotted, a round of fire over your head would signify that you had been spotted.鈥�

The other thing that Andy always remembered was how he was taught to 鈥榯ake a man out鈥�. They would teach the agent, 鈥淒o not go for the testicles from the front, go for them by way of the back which puts you in better control.鈥� And finally, 鈥淪tick your fingers into their, ears, eyes or nose with full force as the individual must give this his full attention giving you time to 鈥榝inish him off鈥�.鈥�

Andy gazed in the other direction, north toward the trees that still lined the original roads. He thought back to the cold, dark prison where he had been interned after he had been captured. He thought about the torture and the constant interrogations. After all, that was where he had lost his innocence. Life had been so much simpler here at the Camp. Even in the most rigorous times in the training program, if you made a mistake, someone was quick to point it out to you and everything could be taken back or done over.

Upon Andy鈥檚 return to Toronto, he settled down and got married. Unfortunately, all his years of training and his experiences as a secret agent would eventually take the inevitable toll on Andy as on so many others, not just the agents, but also anyone who had lived through or served in the war. It seemed perhaps to affect the agents more than others because of the type of training that they had been through.

As was understandable, Andy did not want to talk with his new bride about his experiences during the war. As a result, when his behaviour began to change later on, she had no idea how to cope. Andy began to have terrible nightmares of being captured by the Gestapo and about the subsequent torture he had endured. To someone who has never experienced such treatment, you can only try to imagine yourself laying flat on a board, nude, and having live electrical wires attached to your testicles. Should you not answer the interrogators鈥� questions to their liking, they would flip the switch. Try to imagine also knowing that you would continue to receive increasingly stronger jolts as long as you persisted in giving unsatisfactory answers until either you gave in or passed out. To Andy, this had been reality.

Andy鈥檚 nightmares became more frequent as time went on, but still he could not disclose the torment he suffered. He would jump out of bed in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. His wife tried to understand, but never knew what caused his violent behaviour. She endured until finally, one night, Andy awoke from a nightmare to find his hands wrapped tightly around his own wife鈥檚 neck.

This was the end of Andy鈥檚 marriage. He never remarried.
Andy died alone in 1998.

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