Xenophon Kalamatiano

Xenophon Kalamatiano

Xenophon Kalamatiano was born in Austria on 14th July 1882. His father was killed in a street brawl in 1894. Later that year his mother married Constantine Paul Blumenthal, a young Jewish lawyer from St Petersburg lawyer. Soon afterwards the family emigrated to America.

In 1900 Kalamatiano began his studies at the University of Chicago. After graduating he worked for a while as a language teacher. Kalamatiano then became a representative of an agricultural machinery manufacturer. In 1906 he moved to Russia where he was appointed to the post of the American representative of the Russian Association of Commerce and Industry in Moscow.

During the First World War the State Department decided that it needed an agent working in Russia. In 1915 Professor Samuel N. Harper, recruited Kalamatiano while he was on a visit to America. On his return to St Petersburg he was under the control of the commercial attaché, Chapin Huntingdon. His work was described as collecting "information", rather than "intelligence". He also reported to Dewitt Clinton Poole, Consul General at the United States embassy in Moscow.

President Woodrow Wilson had argued against the use of intelligence services in a speech he made to Congress on 2nd April 1917. He claimed that in the past it had been used by monarchies and aristocracies to guard their privileged existence and had no place in the new democratic order where the people were entitled to know everything: "Self-governed nations do not fill their neighbour states with spies." Despite this claim he had dispatched a series of spies and saboteurs into neighbouring Mexico on missions which included an attempt to assassinate the revolutionary leader Pancho Villa.

The United States State Department was also taking a close interest in events in Russia. After the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II in March, 1917, George Lvov was asked to head the new Provisional Government in Russia. One of the first announcements made by Lvov was that all political exiles were allowed to return to their homes. This included revolutionaries such as Lenin, Leon Trotsky and Joseph Stalin. In October, 1917, the Bolsheviks formed the world's first communist government.

Kalamatiano was also active in Russia and had been obtaining important military information from Colonel Alexander V. Friede, a member of the Russian General Staff. Friede also supplied him with a Russian passport made out in the name of Sergei Nikolayevich Serpukhovsky. This allowed him to travel around Russia and he successfully established a spy network in the Ukraine. According to one message sent to Dewitt Clinton Poole the network included seven agents and two couriers.

President Woodrow Wilson was opposed to intervention against the Bolshevik government. This was partly because he did not want to do anything that increased the power of the British and French empires. Secondly, as a democrat, he had no desire and did not want to help the return of the Russian monarchy. In March 1918 he sent a telegram to the Bolshevik government, via the American consulate in Moscow: "The whole heart of the people of the United States is with the people of Russia in the attempt to free themselves for ever from an autocratic government and to become the masters of their own fate."

In April 1918, Mansfield Smith-Cumming, the head of MI6 sent George Reilly to Russia. He joined a team that included the Robert Bruce Lockhart, the Head of Special Mission to the Soviet Government with the rank of acting British Consul-General, George Alexander Hill, Paul Dukes, Cudbert Thornhill, Ernest Boyce, Oswald Rayner and Stephen Alley. The main objective of this group was to bring about the overthrow of Lenin and the Bolshevik government. Xenophon Kalamatiano joined this conspiracy.

On 3rd August, 1918, Archangel was seized by 1,500 British and French troops under the command of Major General Frederick Cuthbert Poole. The following morning Cheka rounded up 200 British and French residents in Moscow. American citizens like Kalamatiano were left untouched as American forces did not join in the invasion until the following month. According to Alexander Orlov, a secret agent working for Cheka: "Lenin came to the conclusion that the British and French were definitely plotting the overthrow of the Soviet government. He suggested to Dzerhinsky that it would be a good thing if the Cheka could catch the foreign plotters red-handed and expose them to the world."

That summer, Jan Buikis, a Soviet soldier, made contact with Francis Cromie, the naval attaché at the British Embassy, and requested a meeting with Robert Bruce Lockhart. On 14th August, 1918, Buikis and Colonel Eduard Berzin, met Lockhart. Berzin told Lockhart that there was serious disaffection among the Lettish troops and asked for money to finance an anti-Bolshevik coup. Lockhart, who described Berzin as "a tall powerfully-built man with clear-cut features and hard steely eyes" was impressed by Berzen. He told Lockhart that he was a senior commander of the Lettish (Latvian) regiments that had been protecting the Bolshevik Government ever since the revolution. Berzin insisted that these regiments had proved indispensable to Lenin, saving his regime from several attempted coups d'état.

Lockhart claimed that initially he was suspicious of Berzin but was convinced by a letter that had been sent by Cromie: "Always on my guard against agents provocateurs, I scrutinized the letter carefully. It was unmistakably from Cromie. The handwriting was his... The letter closed with a recommendation of Berzin as a man who might be able to render us some service." Lockhart also believed Berzin's claim that the Latvian regiments had lost all enthusiasm for protecting the Revolutionary Government and wanted to return to Latvia. Another agent involved in the plot, George Alexander Hill, also believed Berzin was telling the truth and the men were in the ideal position to overthrow the Bolshevik government: "The Letts were the corner stone and foundation of the Soviet government. They guarded the Kremlin, gold stock and the munitions."

On 17th August, 1918, Moisei Uritsky, the Commissar for Internal Affairs in the Northern Region, was assassinated by Leonid Kannegisser, a young military cadet. Anatoly Lunacharsky commented: "They killed him. They struck us a truly well-aimed blow. They picked out one of the most gifted and powerful of their enemies, one of the most gifted and powerful champions of the working class." The Soviet press published allegations that Uritsky had been killed because he was unravelling "the threads of an English conspiracy in Petrograd".

Despite these claims, Robert Bruce Lockhart continued with his plans to overthrow the Bolshevik government. He had a meeting with a senior intelligence agent based in the French Embassy. He was convinced that Berzin was genuine in his desire to overthrow the Bolsheviks and was willing to put up some of the money needed: "The Letts are Bolshevik servants because they have no other resort. They are foreign hirelings. Foreign hirelings serve for money. They are at the disposal of the highest bidder." George Alexander Hill, another agent based in Petrograd, also believed Berzin was telling the truth and were in the ideal position to overthrow the Bolshevik government: "The Letts were the corner stone and foundation of the Soviet government. They guarded the Kremlin, gold stock and the munitions."

Lockhart arranged for it to be an Allied operation. On 25th August 1918, Consul-General Dewitt Clinton Poole attended a meeting with French Consul-General Joseph Fernand Grenard where the plot was discussed. Xenophon Kalamatiano arranged for 200,000 rubles to be contributed to the operation. Colonel Henri de Vertemont, the leading French intelligence agent in Russia also contributed money for the venture. Over the next week, George Reilly, Ernest Boyce and George Alexander Hill had regular meetings with Colonel Eduard Berzin, where they planned the overthrow of the Bolsheviks. During this period they handed over 1,200,000 rubles. Unknown to MI6 this money was immediately handed over to Felix Dzerzhinsky, the head of Cheka. So also were the details of the British conspiracy.

Berzin told the agents that his troops had been to assigned to guard the theatre where the Soviet Central Executive Committee was to met. A plan was devised to arrest Lenin and Leon Trotsky at the meeting was to take place on 28th August, 1918. Robin Bruce Lockhart, the author of Reilly: Ace of Spies (1992) has argued: "Reilly's grand plan was to arrest all the Red leaders in one swoop on August 28th when a meeting of the Soviet Central Executive Committee was due to be held. Rather than execute them, Reilly intended to de-bag the Bolshevik hierarchy and with Lenin and Trotsky in front, to march them through the streets of Moscow bereft of trousers and underpants, shirt-tails flying in the breeze. They would then be imprisoned. Reilly maintained that it was better to destroy their power by ridicule than to make martyrs of the Bolshevik leaders by shooting them." Reilly's plan was eventually rejected and it was decided to execute the entire leadership of the Bolshevik Party.

Reilly later recalled: "At a given signal, the soldiers were to close the doors and cover all the people in the Theatre with their rifles, while a selected detachment was to secure the persons of Lenin and Trotsky... In case there was any hitch in the proceedings, in case the Soviets showed fight or the Letts proved nervous... the other conspirators and myself would carry grenades in our place of concealment behind the curtains." However, at the last moment, the Soviet Central Executive Committee meeting was postponed until 6th September.

On 31st August 1918 Dora Kaplan attempted to assassinate Lenin. It was claimed that this was part of the British conspiracy to overthrow the Bolshevik government and orders were issued by Felix Dzerzhinsky, the head of Cheka, to round up the agents based in British Embassy in Petrograd. The naval attaché, Francis Cromie was killed resisting arrest. According to Robin Bruce Lockhart: "The gallant Cromie had resisted to the last; with a Browning in each hand he had killed a commissar and wounded several Cheka thugs, before falling himself riddled with Red bullets. Kicked and trampled on, his body was thrown out of the second floor window."

Ernest Boyce and Robert Bruce Lockhart were both arrested but George Reilly had a lucky escape. He arranged to meet Cromie that morning. He arrived at the British Embassy soon after Cromie had been killed: "The Embassy door had been battered off its hinges. The Embassy flag had been torn down. The Embassy had been carried by storm." George Alexander Hill and Reilly both went into hiding and were eventually smuggled out of Russia.

On 2nd September, 1918, Bolshevik newspapers splashed on their front pages the discovery of an Anglo-French conspiracy that involved undercover agents and diplomats. One newspaper insisted that "Anglo-French capitalists, through hired assassins, organised terrorist attempts on representatives of the Soviet." These conspirators were accused of being involved in the murder of Moisei Uritsky and the attempted assassination of Lenin. Lockhart and Reilly were both named in these reports. "Lockhart entered into personal contact with the commander of a large Lettish unit... should the plot succeed, Lockhart promised in the name of the Allies immediate restoration of a free Latvia."

An edition of Pravda declared that Lockhart was the main organiser of the plot and was labelled as "a murderer and conspirator against the Russian Soviet government". The newspaper then went on to argue: "Lockhart... was a diplomatic representative organising murder and rebellion on the territory of the country where he is representative. This bandit in dinner jacket and gloves tries to hide like a cat at large, under the shelter of international law and ethics. No, Mr Lockhart, this will not save you. The workmen and the poorer peasants of Russia are not idiots enough to defend murderers, robbers and highwaymen."

The following day Robert Bruce Lockhart was arrested and charged with assassination, attempted murder and planning a coup d'état. All three crimes carried the death sentence. The couriers used by British agents were also arrested. Lockhart's mistress, Maria Zakrveskia, who had nothing to do with the conspiracy, was also taken into custody. However, Sidney Reilly, George Alexander Hill, and Paul Dukes had all escaped capture and had successfully gone undercover.

Xenophon Kalamatiano had been on a special mission in Siberia and only arrived back in Moscow on 18th September. He was immediately arrested. He refused to answer questions but one of the Cheka officers noticed that he never parted with the cane he held in his hands. The officer asked to see the cane and began to examine it closely. Alexander Orlov, later recalled in his memoirs: "Kalamatiano turned pale and lost his composure. The investigation soon discovered that the cane contained an inner tube and he extracted it. In it were hidden a secret cipher, spy reports, a coded list of thirty-two spies and money receipts from some of them."

On 2nd October, 1918, the British government arranged for Robert Bruce Lockhart to be exchanged for captive Soviet officials such as Maxim Litvinov. After his release the remaining plotters were put on trial. They were all found guilty and Kalamatiano and Colonel Alexander V. Friede were condemned to death. The court also passed death sentences on Lockhart, Reilly, Joseph Fernand Grenard and Colonel Henri de Vertemont, noting that "they had all fled". They would all be shot if ever found on Soviet soil. Friede was executed on 14th December but Kalamatiano was sent to Lubyanka Prison. In the early weeks of his incarceration he was taken out several times into the courtyard for a mock execution. However, Felix Dzerzhinsky had decided that Kalamatiano was more use alive than dead.

Negotiations for Kalamatiano release began straight away. The Bolshevik government told the American government that "Kalamatiano had committed the highest crime against the soviet state, was properly tried according to Russian revolutionary law and is still considered dangerous to Soviet Russia." It was made clear that Kalamatiano would remain in custody as long as the American government gave support to the White Army.

On 19th November 1920 Kalamatiano managed to send out a message to the man who recruited him as an intelligence agent, Professor Samuel N. Harper: "Just a few words to tell you, and whichever of my friends you run across, that I am still very much alive - although skinny... Yesterday celebrated my 30th month of imprisonment in various institutions... However, as whatever happens outside finally is concentrated here I consider I have been given a box seat to watch the revolution and am not complaining of such an unusual opportunity. Several of your acquaintances have been here at various times. I trust sometime to tell you more about them all. At the present, names on paper are odious things... If I pull out alive, and I have every hope of doing so now - although at one time chances seemed to be rather on the undertaker's side - I hope we will have a chance of talking things over."

In the summer of 1921 famine was raging in the country and over 25 million Russians were facing starvation. On 27th July, the American Secretary of State, Charles Evans Hughes, warned the Soviet Foreign Minister, Maxim Gorky, in writing: "It is manifestly impossible for the American authorities to countenance measures of relief for the distress in Russia while our citizens are detailed." Three days later, the Bolsheviks agreed to release their American prisoners in return for American Relief Administration emergency help. Kalamatiano and five other Americans were released on 10th August 1921.

Kalamatiano was warned by Dewitt Clinton Poole that he must not tell anyone about his activities in Russia. He was dismissed from the State Department in December 1921 and given a job as a foreign language instructor at the Calver Military Academy. Despite official dissuasion, he did write his memoirs but no publisher was willing to accept his manuscript.

Xenophon Kalamatiano was a keen hunter and after one expedition in the winter of 1922 he suffered a frozen foot. It turned poisonous and toes had to be amputated. "I am departing the world in particles" he wrote from hospital to his old mentor, Professor Samuel N. Harper. The poison continued to attack his body and eventually damaged his heart. He died on 9th November 1923 of a condition certified by the doctors as "sub-acute septic endocarditis". He was forty-one years old.

Like their governments, the Western secret services sought to remove, wherever practicable, the embarrassment of their failed challenge of 1918 and the Bolsheviks occasionally obliged. The best example is the case of Kalamatiano. The State Department's master-spy (it is idle to call him anything else) was not in Moscow when the Chekist raids on Western missions and their intelligence outposts took place. He had left the capital only a few hours before they were launched, on a special mission to Siberia agreed with Poole. The American consul shared the general Allied conviction that the regime could be toppled militarily only if the various anti-Bolshevik forces operating in the east, north and south of the country could somehow join hands. Samara, a key city in central Siberia where the great railway crossed the Volga, could serve as this strategic link and was already the seat of an imposing regional government. It was when Kalamatiano reached there after a week's arduous travel that he first heard of the mayhem in Moscow and Petrograd; even then, he had no idea how serious things were until he got back to the capital on 18 September.

Kalamatiano described his arrest in a long memorandum he was able to deliver to Washington later on, and corroborative details have been supplied by both American and Soviet sources. He realized the game was up as soon as he got back to the capital and learned from those of his contacts who were still on the run about the evacuation of Western diplomats, the disappearance of their key agents and the imprisonment of Lockhart. The arrest which troubled him most was that of Colonel Friede of the Red Army Moscow Communications Centre. Among other vital services to the network, Friede had supplied him with a genuine Russian passport made out in the name of Sergei Nikolayevich Serpukhovsky, under which he was now travelling. The colonel had presumably been made to tell all. The alias was not merely useless; it was damning.

Before leaving for Finland a few hours before, Poole had placed the American consulate-general under the protection of Norway, relations, of which it emerges as the mirror image. and its flag now flew over the building. Even the Cheka would surely not dare to raid those premises, and Kalamatiano's hopes were raised when he cautiously reconnoitered the area by daylight. There were Red Guard sentries posted around the building but all seemed peaceful enough and he could even see some of the Allied refugees who had already made it to this safe haven playing football in the gardens, as though their cares were over. All that was needed to join them was a fifty-yard dash through the adjoining grounds of the British church and then a clamber over the high perimeter fence around the consulate itself. He decided to wait until after dusk to make his attempt. Rain set in which made the ground slippery but, as he had hoped, the sentries outside the main gate started huddling over a wood fire to keep warm. He waited until the comrades still on patrol were on the other side of the perimeter and then rushed towards the fence - elegantly dressed in a dark coat and hat with grey spats over his well-polished shoes and clutching his precious walking stick in his left hand. That ornate cane proved his downfall in more senses than one. By refusing to abandon it, he was left with only his right arm to seize the top of the fence and lever himself over it. It was not enough. As his grip began to slacken on the wet top rail he felt a pair of arms grab him by the waist from below and heard the owner of the pair of arms yelling out for help. It was the janitor who had his hut by the gate which Kalamatiano had overlooked.

The second doleful consequence of hanging on to that cane came later that night when the top Cheka official, I.K. Peters (whom we have met already interrogating Lockhart), came to join in questioning the false 'Serpukhovsky'. The Cheka had already raided Kalamatiano's apartment and found nothing; a body search of the prisoner, who was refusing to talk, had been equally fruitless. The Chekists seemed at a dead end when eyes started to focus on that heavy walking stick, which the American was refusing to put down, even when moving across the room. The reason why was revealed when they took it from him for examination. It turned out to be hollow and the space inside was stuffed with bundles of roubles, cyphered messages and, most damaging of all, receipts for money from more than thirty coded informants. Kalamatiano had proved the case against him without uttering a word....

He (Kalamatiano) stuck to his story but at a cost. Norwegian consular officials were now his only link with the outside world as well as for representations to his Moscow jailers. The Norwegians managed, via the Russian Red Cross, to make his food supplies more than tolerable. Three times a week they sent in a parcel containing a pound of meat, a pound of potatoes, some bread, tea, sugar and cigarettes. There were also three weekly deliveries of very British fare (roast beef, mutton chops and veal cutlets for example) prepared especially for him at the former British consulate. Moreover his cigarette ration was eventually increased to the heavy smoker's allowance of fifty per day. But despite these creature comforts, his health continued to fail badly as the months went by in 1919 with seemingly no prospect of his release - so much so that his Norwegian consular visitors feared at one point that he might even be going mad.

On September 1st, No. 5, his sister, mother, other sister and brother were arrested when his sister carried a report to Reilly's place where she was arrested and the report taken... All others, i.e. 24, 10, 11, 8 were caught by the watch on No. 5's house. No. 12 was arrested after I was through a receipt found on me. 7 was arrested because of the blackmailing letter he had written and which I had kept in my old home... 28, 2 and 4 are safe. You could communication with the former. The Ukraine organisation is safe and you could get in touch with it through No. 2 at Charkov. We have there No. 2, 3, 16, 17, 18, 21, 23 and two couriers.

Just a few words to tell you, and whichever of my friends you run across, that I am still very much alive - although skinny...

Yesterday celebrated my 30th month of imprisonment in various institutions - Byke, two different camps, 8 months of Kremlin and the Butyrki solitaries - a liberal education in itself.

However, as whatever happens outside finally is concentrated here I consider I have been given a box seat to watch the revolution and am not complaining of such an unusual opportunity.

Several of your acquaintances have been here at various times. At the present, names on paper are odious things...

If I pull out alive, and I have every hope of doing so now - although at one time chances seemed to be rather on the undertaker's side - I hope we will have a chance of talking things over.


Kalamatianos: The most popular folkdance influence in Greek era.

The Kalamatianós is one of the best known dances of Greece. It is a popular Greek folkdance throughout Greece, Cyprus and internationally and is often performed at many social gatherings worldwide. As is the case with most Greek folk dances, it is danced in circle with a counterclockwise rotation, the dancers holding hands. It is a joyous and festive dance its musical beat is 7/8, subdivided into of three parts of 3+2+2 beats, corresponding to 3 steps per bar. There are 12 steps in the dance corresponding to 4 bars of music. These steps include 10 steps counterclockwise (“forward”) followed by 2 steps clockwise (“backwards”). Depending on the occasion and the dancers’ proficiency, certain steps may be taken as jumps or squats.

The lead dancer usually holds the second dancer by a handkerchief, this allowing him or her to perform more elaborate steps and acrobatics. The steps of the Kalamatianós are the same as those of the Syrtos, but the latter is slower and more stately, its beat being an even 4/4. The roots of Kalamatianos can be found in antiquity. The ancient Spartans had a dance called ὅρμος (hormos), which was a syrto style dance described in detail by Xenophon where a woman led a male into dance using a handkerchief. Lucian states that the ormos dance was performed in an open circle and was done by young men and women. The men would dance vigorously while the women danced with modest movements.

In the 19th century, this dance was called “Syrtos O Peloponisios”. It is believed to have acquired the name kalamatianos from the town of Kalamata in southern Greece most Greek dances are commonly named after the villages or areas from which they are considered to have originated.


The US State Department

American Secretary of State Robert Lansing, a bored pacifist who doodled and daydreamed in White House cabinet meetings, became alarmed after Lenin seized power in October 1917 and proceeded to remove Russia from the war in a secret money deal struck with Germany.

Robert Lansing, 42nd U.S. Secretary of State (Credit: Public Domain).

Speaking of Berlin’s offer, Lenin later told a comrade: “We would have been idiots not to have taken advantage of it.” This “separate peace” allowed Germany to move army divisions over to the Western Front, the main battleground of the war. As a result, the Allies feared defeat in France.

Lansing decided to hire a Cossack army to march on Moscow and turn out the Bolsheviks, then install a Western “military dictatorship.” But the Western nations had not declared war on Russia. And Russia was a former ally in the war. This was politically dangerous territory.

A deal was worked out in which U.S. dollars would be sent to London and Paris as war aid, then laundered to finance the conspiracy. President Wilson, publicly an opponent of interfering in the affairs of other nations, privately told Lansing that this had his “entire approval.”

The Cossacks – along with the Socialist Revolutionaries – were the Bolsheviks’ main enemies, and there’s little doubt that Lenin would be executed by whatever general was hired. After all, the Bolsheviks were doing the same thing – killing their enemies, often without a trial.

Still, in its goal to eliminate Comrade Chairman, the Lenin Plot did exude a certain odour of international terrorism on the part of the Allies.

In December 1917, a U.S. consul in Moscow, DeWitt Clinton Poole, travelled down to the Don on a secret mission to interview several Cossack generals. But the generals were antagonistic toward one another and could not be counted on to mount a unified attack against the Bolsheviks.

The plot segued into 1918, still under direction of the U.S. State Department.


KALAMATIANOS- GREECE

Kalamatianos is extremely “joyful and festive” a Southeast European dance style. This “folk” dance is said to have originated from Greece, and is extremely popular in Cyprus. Apparently, this dance is also extremely popular around the world, and is performed mainly during social functions. Furthermore, this dance is basically performed around a circle following the anti-clockwise direction. In addition, this dance also includes a classical “Kalamatiano” song originating from Western Macedonia.

a. History/origin of the Kalamatianos:

According to the cultural history of Greece, in the city-state of Sparta there existed a dance style known as “ὅρμος hormos”. This dance style was apparently discussed in depth by Xenophon (Greek philosopher). According to this renowned philosopher, this dance involved young men and women dancing energetically in an open circle. Furthermore, this dance during the 19 th century evolved further and was called “Syrtos O Peloponisios”. In addition, this dance then soon gained popularity in a town in South Greece known as Kalamata, and was thereby renamed as “Kalamatianos”.

b. Costumes used in the Kalamatianos:

No information regarding the costumes used in this dance style is available.

c. Music involved in the Kalamatianos:

The music used in this dance style is accompanied by a traditional “Kalamatianos” song, and the lyrics used are as follows:

Μήλο μου κόκκινο, ρόιδο βαμμένο (×2)
Γιατί με μάρανες το πικραμένο 1

Παένω κ’ έρχομαι μα δεν σε βρίσκω (×2)
Βρίσκω την πόρτα σου μανταλομένη 1

Τα παραθυρούδια σου φεγγοβολούνε (×2)
Ρωτάω την πόρτα σου, που πάει η κυρά σου 1

Κυρά μ’ δεν είναι ‘δώ, πάησε στην βρύση (×2)
Πάησε να βρει νερό και να γεμίσει 1

TRANSLATION:

My red apple, my scarlet pomegranate,
why have you made me wilted and bitter?

I come and go, but cannot find you
I try your door, and it’s always locked.

Your windows are always lighted
I ask your door, “Where is your lady?”

“My lady is not here, she is at the wellspring
She’s gone to bring water”.

d. Training availability and technique involved in the Kalamatianos:


Secret History of the British Empire

Perfidious Albion – “Treacherous England,” “Faithless England,” or, if you prefer, “Dirty, Low-down, Sneaky England” – is commonly assumed to derive from the French La Perfide Albion. The epithet’s best known appearance is in the 1793 poem “L’ere de Francais” by the Marquis de Ximenez. The year is not without significance. In February 1793, the increasingly radical and beleaguered French Republic declared war on Britain, and Ximenez exhorted his revolutionary countrymen to carry the fight to the enemy’s shores. One wonders what he would have made of the theory, advance many years later, that the very Revolution he praised was the clandestine handiwork of Perfide Albion.

In any event, the good Marquis was hardly the first or the last to invoke the term. References to something of the kind date back to the late Middle Ages. In 1919, Canon Charles O’Neil enshrined it in the lyrics of “Foggy Dew,” which lauded Ireland’s Easter Rebellion. The Spanish, recalling the ill-fated Armada and the depredations of Sir Francis Drake, speak of Perfida Albion, the Italians of Perfida Albione, and the Germans of Perfides Albion. In any language, it boils down to the same thing: the English displayed a special knack for underhanded behaviour and more that they were damned good at it.

Is such sniping just the reflexive bitterness of losers, or was the rise and success of the British Empire really abetted by dirty tricks and not just hardy seamen, stiff upper lips and the will of the Almighty? If so, much of the dirty work falls into that category loosely termed espionage or “secret service.” But the English did not invent spying, which if not the world’s second oldest profession, must be the third. Nor can it be that Britain’s alleged sin was simply putting its interests above that of any other nation, be it friend or foe. What other country can really claim to have done otherwise, and why should anyone expect them to?

Of course, we are talking about more than mere intelligence gathering suborning treason, inciting rebellion, even war, not to mention blackmail and assassination are neither the least nor the greatest crimes of which Perfidious Albion stands accused. Indeed, some might argue that the British Empire was born and maintained through a pact with the Devil himself. In any case, the likes of Stephen Dorril and Robin Ramsay argue that the long history of skulduggery manifests the hand of a British “Secret State” which continues to guide the policies and destiny of the United Kingdom.1

The notion than England possessed a special talent for deceit and underhandedness may be a myth, but it has proved an effective and enduring one. After all, though the Empire is gone, the most famous secret agent in the world, James Bond, remains a Briton. The long list of historical figures who stand accused of being Albion’s tools (whether they knew it or not) includes Christopher Marlowe, Benjamin Franklin, Karl Marx, Leon Trotsky and Adolf Hitler. Those who, to one degree or another, definitely were, include Aleister Crowley, Harry Houdini, Benito Mussolini and Noel Coward. What follows will take a necessarily very selective look at some of the persons and events involved in Britain’s clandestine affairs from the era of Elizabeth I to the Second World War. Some may be familiar, others definitely obscure, but each played a part in the Secret History of the British Empire.
Sir Francis Walsingham

Credit for creating the first “regular” English secret service usually goes to Elizabeth I’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham.2 He faced a predicament shared by many of his successors the need to combat both external and internal threats and the collaboration of the two. In the case of the Protestant Walsingham and his Protestant Queen, the unifying factor among their enemies was devotion to Catholicism. Walsingham battled this menace by recruiting agents at home and abroad and waging an aggressive campaign of counter-subversion. His most successful weapon was the provocateur or “mole” who penetrated and compromised hostile conspiracies. He also followed the maxim that England’s enemy’s enemy was her friend, or at least an exploitable tool. In addition to Protestant sympathisers and dissident Catholics, he is also supposed to have enlisted the help of witches, sorcerers and atheists in Albion’s cause.3

Little surprise that one of Walsingham’s better known operatives was an Elizabethan occultist whose interests included hermeticism, alchemy, astrology and conversing with “angels.” This was Dr. John Dee (1527�), a man whose encoded signature – a stylised representation of handled spectacles – was later appropriated by Ian Fleming for his �.𔄦 Among other things, Dee was a prophet of England’s Manifest Destiny. He allegedly coined the term “Britannia” and conjured up the image of the small island kingdom as the centre of a world-girdling maritime empire.

While Dee served Walsingham well, he was first and foremost a scholar and seems to have lacked the ruthless quality often required of a secret agent. Thus, it surely was Walsingham’s hand that in 1582 steered Edward Kelley into his path. Dee wished to commune with the spirits but lacked mediumistic powers. Kelley had them – or claimed to – and the pair formed a team which endured for some seven years. Kelley was a dubious character, a convicted forger and counterfeiter whose occult interests included necromancy and maybe outright diabolism.5 Since the angels “spoke” through Kelley, and Dee was inclined to do whatever they decreed, Kelley was ideally positioned to “manage” Dee. Kelley would have had no qualms about doing whatever Walsingham required. Little wonder that some three centuries later another English occultist-spy, Aleister Crowley, would proclaim himself the reincarnation of Edward Kelley.

Dee and Kelley’s most important mission was their extended visit to Central Europe in the 1580s. This brought them to the court of Habsburg Emperor Rudolf II, nephew of England’s nemesis, Philip II of Spain, and host to a dangerous cabal of Catholic exiles. Kelley ultimately infiltrated and betrayed this group and their co-conspirators in England. Dee ingratiated himself (and by extension, Kelley) to Rudolf by providing the Emperor with rare tomes of esoterica. Dee is generally assumed to have sold Rudolf a very strange volume later dubbed the Voynich Manuscript after the book dealer who rediscovered it in the early 20th century.6 It is an illustrated manuscript depicting mysterious plants and rituals and written in an unknown and indecipherable alphabet. Among the multitude of theories about the book is one that holds Dee concocted it as cryptographic experiment based on the angelic or “Enochian” revelations received through Kelley.
Britain’s Alliance with the Jews

Half a century after Dee’s death, England was under a very different political regime but facing a remarkably similar security predicament. In the mid-1650s, power rested in the hands of a Puritan dictator, Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell’s principle enemies were the royalist partisans of the dethroned Stuarts who brewed sedition at home and plotted abroad with the Catholic kings of Spain and France.

At this time there lived in London a wealthy Portuguese-Spanish merchant named Antonio Fernandez de Carvajal. In fact, Carvajal was a Marrano or crypto-Jew, a descendent of Iberian Jews compelled to accept Catholicism in the previous century. Like many of his secret co-religionists, Carvajal hated Spain and all it stood for. He also sought to legitimise his and other crypto-Jews’ status in England and permit other Sons of Judah to live there openly. The obstacle was Edward I’s 1290 Edict of Expulsion which forbade Jews to dwell in England. In 1655, Carvajal arranged for Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel to come from Amsterdam and make a personal appeal to Cromwell. The Lord Protector formally repealed the Edict two years later. Part of the quid pro quo was that Carvajal put Cromwell’s agents in contact with a far-flung network of “Jewish Intelligencers” who operated in the Netherlands, the Levant, Spanish America and inside Spain itself.7 As early as 1656 this secret alliance proved its value when Carvajal’s agents exposed royalist intrigues in Holland.

Jump ahead 260 years and British agents in the Middle East, among them a certain T. E. Lawrence, were being aided by another network of Jewish spies, this one the Zionist NILI ring which worked against the Ottoman Turks.8 At the same time, Albion’s operatives spun visions of independence before the Arabs while quietly plotting to divide up the whole region with France. The leading light of the NILI ring, Aaron Aaronsohn perished in a mysterious plane crash over the English Channel in 1919. As in the later cases of the Duke of Kent (1942) and General Wladyslaw Sikorski (1943), suspicious minds saw the hidden hand of Perfidious Albion ridding itself of an “inconvenience.𔄫

At the very least, had Edward I’s Edict remained in force, British history would have been very different. No Rothschilds would have lent their weight to London’s financial might, no Benjamin Disraeli would have become prime minister, nor would a Polish Jew named Shlomo Rozenblium have become Sidney Reilly, the Ace-of-Spies.

The French Revolution has spawned its share of conspiracy theories. Perhaps the most resilient of these is the “Illuminati-Masonic Conspiracy” promoted by Abbe Augustin de Barruel in his Memoirs Illustrating the History of Jacobinism (1797󈟎) and John Robison’s Proofs of a Conspiracy against All Religions and Governments of Europe… (1797). Both writers point accusing fingers at the recently disbanded Bavarian Illuminati who, they allege, infiltrated French Freemasonry and spawned the head-chopping excesses of the Jacobins. It is worth noting that both Barruel and Robison wrote their books in Britain and that the government of Sir William Pitt the Younger embraced and promoted their ideas. At the very least, Pitt exploited the conspiracy theory to effectively discredit and demonise the French Revolution.

In the 20th century, the doggedly anti-British researchers associated with Lyndon Larouche’s Executive Intelligence Review argue that the hidden hand of England both helped to get the Revolution rolling and steered it into the hands of the fanatical Jacobins. In modern parlance, it was all a “destabilisation” effort designed to cripple France economically and politically. Even the storming of the Bastille was part of the plot.10 In the “Bestial British Intelligence of Shelburne and Bentham,” Jeffrey Steinberg singles out Lord Shelburne (William Petty) the evil genius of the venture who used the monetary power of the East India Company to carry out a silent coup against weak King George III.11 According to this view, British intelligence ever since has been the tool of the same secret power. If so, were the works of Barruel and Robison sponsored disinformation designed to divert attention away from the real conspiracy to a manufactured one?

Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, the British secret services had to negotiate a shifting landscape of alliances and real or potential enemies. In the 1850s, Britain joined traditional foe France in the Crimean War against Russia, but in the 1890’s France allied itself with Russia, a combination that was almost as troubling to Britain as it was to the rising power on the block, Germany. Up to the first years of the 20th century, Tsarist Russia remained the Empire’s #1 adversary, but when, after 1900, the Germans embarked on the creation of a big navy, British interests demanded an alliance with France (1904) and subsequently Russia (1907).

Of course, just because you were allied to someone, didn’t mean you would or should stop spying on them. To better manage intelligence operations, a War Office Intelligence Division appeared in 1873. The Admiralty followed suit with a Foreign Intelligence Committee in 1882 which became the Naval Intelligence Department (NID) a few years later.
William Melville

Nevertheless, the man who was the closest thing to a British spymaster in the late 19th century, and who arguably laid the basis for British intelligence in the 20th, came from the London Metropolitan Police – Scotland Yard. His name was William Melville and he was, of all things, a Catholic Irishman from County Kerry. Originally a baker, Melville entered the Metropolitan Police in 1872 and ten years later joined its new Irish Branch. The latter was designed to combat Fenian conspiracies, particularly bomb attacks in London. Despite his background, Melville became an implacable enemy of the Irish rebels and a bitter foe of anarchists and radicals generally.

In 1887, Melville was involved in ferreting out the so-called Jubilee Plot in which a Fenian cabal aimed to blow up Queen Victoria and most of her cabinet in Westminster Abbey.12 The key instigator turned out to be a British agent. Much the same emerged five years later when Melville masterminded the destruction of the Walsall Plot in which a group of anarchist workmen went to prison for scheming to build a bomb. Once again, the man at the centre of plot turned out to be one of Melville’s provocateurs.13

Befitting a servant of Perfidious Albion, such deviousness did not go unrewarded. In 1893 Melville became Superintendent of Special Branch and earned an almost mythical reputation as the ever-watchful guardian of public order. Always on the lookout for new angles in trickery and deception, in 1900 Melville enlisted the talents of American magician Harry Houdini. He even inveigled Houdini to spy for him during his tours of Germany and Russia.14

Still, this did not inhibit Melville from establishing cooperative arrangements with the secret services of those very same countries. In 1901, he worked with German agents to forestall an assassination attempt against Kaiser Wilhelm II at Queen Victoria’s funeral.15 He evolved a more elaborate relationship with Pyotr Rachkovsky, the equally cunning chief of the Russian Government’s Okhranasection in Paris. Melville’s men spied on Russian exiles in London, while Rachkovsky supplied Melville with intelligence gleaned from radical circles on the Continent. They even shared agents.

A case in point is the Pilenas brothers, Casimir and Peter. They were Lithuanian subjects of the Russian Empire who fled to London in the 1890s and moved in revolutionary circles. Casimir became a spotter and informant for Scotland Yard around 1896 and he and his brother worked as London operatives for the Okhrana.16 Their recruiter was one of Melville’s officers, Michael Thorpe who also, with Melville’s approval, worked for Rachkovsky.

The Okhrana came to doubt the Pilenas’ reliability and cut them loose in 1913. This may have had something to do with their peripheral involvement in a sensational robbery-murder in London in December 1910. The so-called Houndsditch Murders resulted from a botched burglary attempt by a group of Latvian-Russian anarchists.17 Three policemen were shot dead and not long after two of the suspects died in a fiery shoot-out in the East End’s Sidney Street. Despite what first appeared to be overwhelming evidence, the surviving robbers were all acquitted. One reason for the acquittals may have been that there was one or more police agents among the accused.

The group’s shadowy ringleader, “Peter the Painter,” was never found, but among those suspected was Peter Pilenas who conveniently left England for America just days before the robbery went down. Peter soon was followed to the States by brother Casimir. When the First World War broke out, British intelligence in New York re-mobilised him as an agent, and he similarly returned to Albion’s service (if he ever left) in 1939.

There is something fishy about the Houndsditch/Sidney Street business, and the suspicion that it involved State-inspired provocation is not unjustified. In that respect, a not insignificant detail is that the Home Secretary who personally oversaw the Sidney Street shoot-out was Winston Churchill, a man who some believe “had already sealed an indissoluble bond” with the Realm’s secret services.18

Melville resigned his Scotland Yard post in October 1903 but immediately opened a private detective agency under the name William Morgan. In fact, Melville’s outfit was a cut-out for the War Office and served the Empire’s secret needs at home and abroad. Basically, Melville’s agents did the Empire’s dirty work under a cover of complete deniability. In 1909, most of his organisation was subsumed into two new agencies created to handle domestic and foreign intelligence (what would become MI5 and MI6) and Melville served as MI5’s Chief Detective until his real retirement in 1917.
Sidney George Reilly

One of Melville’s most notable recruits was the Russo-Polish Jew mentioned earlier, Shlomo, or Salomon, Rozenblium. He would be much better known as Sidney George Reilly. His career is too convoluted to summarise here, but among other things, he is frequently cited as the role model for James Bond.19 Like so many things about Reilly, it turns out to have no basis in fact. In reality, Reilly was more a confidence man than a spy, and his loyalty to Britain, or anything else, was doubtful. A report on his character in early 1918 concluded that he was “a shrewd businessman of undoubted ability, but without patriotism or principles and therefore not to be recommended for any position which requires loyalty….󈭨 Other terms applied to him included “untrustworthy” and “unscrupulous.” Among the few things said in his favour was that he had excellent sources of information and “connections in almost every country.󈭩 Reilly liked to hint of his connections to the “Occult Octopus,” his name for the more secretive aspects of international business and finance.22

Nevertheless, despite his mercenary reputation, or maybe because of it, in the spring of 1918 the chief of London’s Secret Intelligence Service (SIS or MI6), chose Reilly to undertake an ultra-secret mission inside newly Bolshevised Russia. The main fruit of this venture was the so-called Lockhart or Ambassadors’ Plot which reached its crescendo in late August of that year. The plot centred on a plan, spearheaded by Reilly, to subvert the Latvian troops guarding the Kremlin and use them in a palace coup against Lenin’s government. The goal was less the total overthrow of the Red regime than a change in its leadership, and there is little doubt that an almost simultaneous, but botched, effort to kill Lenin was connected.23 The Latvian gambit abruptly fell apart with the result that all the Allied secret services in Russia were compromised. Reilly and his British colleagues escaped unscathed, but his American counterpart, the unlikely named Xenophon Kalamatiano, was not so lucky. He alone was tried, convicted and imprisoned by the Bolsheviks for three gruelling years. To his dying day Kalamatiano maintained that Reilly had deliberately betrayed him and other Allied agents.24 What he never seemed quite sure of was why.

Sidney Reilly disappeared on another mission to Russia in the fall of 1925. According to contradictory Soviet accounts, either he was executed soon after his capture or almost two years later. In London there were routine denials and whispers of defection. In what purports to be an account of his interrogation, Reilly emphatically states that there had been no British agents in Russia since 1919.25 It may be that one purpose of Reilly’s mission was to convince his Soviet captors that this was true. Persons in London may have willingly sacrificed Reilly to make that point.

It was vital that the Soviets believe him, because nothing could be further from the truth. As researcher Phil Tomaselli has unearthed, from the fall of 1919 through at least mid-1923, MI6 received scores of reports, many very detailed, from a source with access to the highest levels of the Soviet Government. The source was also particularly well-versed in the secret collaboration between the Russians and the German military. Codenamed D-57, the agent’s identity was carefully disguised indeed, it is not clear whether D-57 was an individual or a network of informants. As far as can be determined, the information provided was reliable.

D-57 was only a part of a much more extensive British intelligence operation in Red Russia. As a 1927 American military intelligence summary put it, “Just what agencies are maintained [by the British] in Russia, of course, cannot be found out, but according to recent Soviet claims, which are undoubtedly exaggerated, the British have an extensive system of espionage in that country.󈭮 Actually, the Soviets were not hallucinating. London had intelligence officers imbedded in its trade and diplomatic missions, and in the ranks of private firms operating in Russia. Through the 1920s, a super-secret MI6 station existed in Moscow, though, like D-57, it remains completely unacknowledged in that agency’s official history.27 Why? Why would such a seemingly outstanding success be covered-up? Could it be that to reveal the story of D-57 and related affairs would also reveal some darker secrets of the Empire, those that must forever remain in the file of Things That Never Happened?
Dr. Cornelius Herz

The Soviets were not the only ones who had to fret about the nefarious activities of English spies. The French had ample reason to maintain a healthy paranoia about L’Intelligence Service. Around 1877, a certain Dr. Cornelius Herz appeared in Paris. Although supposedly born in France, Herz claimed American citizenship, but his origins are, to say the least, obscure. He used his not inconsiderable wealth, the source of which was also a mystery, to dabble in finance and politics, initially to great success. He cultivated political figures in the Third Republic, most notably the sabre-rattling General Georges Ernest Boulanger, who almost staged a coup against the Republican regime at the end of the 1880s. Herz also befriended a rising politico named Georges Clemenceau, the future “Tiger of France.”

However, Herz’s little empire came crashing down when, along with another wheeler-dealer, the Baron de Reinach, he became mixed-up in the Panama Canal Scandal that hit France at the beginning of the 1890s. The Scandal, which included charges of bribery and official malfeasance, rocked the Republic to its foundations. To avoid prosecution, Herz, like others implicated, fled aboard, but it was the place of refuge he chose that raised eyebrows. Herz decamped to England in 1892 where, despite vigorous French efforts to force his extradition, he remained safe and silent until his rather untimely (some might argue convenient) death six years later.28 In France it became an article of faith that Herz had been an “agent-of-influence” of Perfide Albion and that his aim all along was to destabilise the Third Republic any way he could. Some of his critics charged that Herz was nothing less than the “chief of the Intelligence Service in France.󈭱 Herz, naturally, denied any such thing.

It was not lost on certain persons, among the outspoken anti-semite Eduoard Drumont, that Herz and Reinach were Jews, and this played into another scandal that hit the Republic in 1894 and raged for several years – the infamous Dreyfus Affair. By 1898󈟏, it had polarised France into pro- and anti-Dreyfusard camps and again brought the Third Republic to the brink of collapse. Britain’s secret services were not above fishing in these troubled waters. One man who thought the Republic’s crisis might be his opportunity was Victor Bonaparte, Prince Napoleon, or as die-hard Bonapartists referred to him, Napoleon V. From his exile in Belgium, he boasted of organising a march on Paris to seize control and restore order. Among the surviving records of War Office Intelligence, there is reference to the fact that in May 1901, British agents met with Prince Napoleon in Holland where they “sounded out” his views about affairs in France and elsewhere.30 So, the Empire’s agents now connived with the heir of the man they had worked so hard to bring down almost ninety years before.
Basil Zaharoff

Some thought it more than coincidence that just as Herz’s star began to fade, another foreigner of mysterious wealth and provenance popped up in Paris.31 This was Basil Zaharoff, who had already gone through half a dozen aliases and careers in places as far ranging as Constantinople, London, Cyprus and America.32 No one was certain, or ever would be, whether Zaharoff was of Greek, Jewish, or Russian origin. He established a special relationship with British interests in the 1870s and that endured, to one degree or another, until his death in Monte Carlo in 1936. In the interim, Sir Basil, as he was later known, earned infamy and vast wealth as the world’s paramount arms dealer or, as the less charitable termed him, the “Merchant of Death.” Zaharoff later spread his tentacles into ship-building, banking, radio communications and, perhaps most prescient of all, oil. The basis of his business success was what he called the “System.” In essence, this involved selling arms to both sides in a conflict and even instigating conflicts when need or opportunity arose.

Zaharoff maintained an official residence in Paris and was rewarded by the French with enrolment in the Legion of Honor. But it was London which gave him an Order of the British Empire and a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath for his special services. Sir Basil was intimately connected with the British-owned Vickers firm and British politicians like future Prime Minister David Lloyd George.33 His influence reached its peak during the First World War. According to T. P. O’Connor, “Allied statesmen and leaders were obliged to consult with him before planning any great attack.󈭶 He was also rumoured to operate a private intelligence service which put the French Surete to shame.35 His legion of sub-agents allegedly included the above-mentioned Sidney Reilly and arch-schemer Ignatius Trebitsch-Lincoln.36 French investigative journalist Roger Menevee, the first to attempt a biography of Zaharoff, was convinced that not only was he a key British asset, but also was a kingpin in a shadowy “International Oligarchy” which dominated the world’s economy. One can only wonder how that connected to Reilly’s “Occult Octopus” or to the “High Cabal” alluded to by Winston Churchill.37 Was Zaharoff a manifestation of the link between British imperial interests and some sort of “Illuminati”? If so, who was running who?

Yet another example of British spying on France, this one in the wake of the First World War, provides a little comic relief. In December 1925, the Surete arrested three male British subjects and two French female accomplices on charges of espionage. All were convicted in subsequent proceedings. The leading figure in the case, Capt. John Henry Leather, and his two colleagues, Ernest Phillips and William Fischer, were employees of the Paris office of the Burndept Wireless Co. They also all had recent backgrounds in British military intelligence. As of 1925, in fact, Leather was still attached to MI2(b), the War Office outfit handling intelligence in Western Europe.38

The Foreign Office, Air Ministry and Admiralty ritually denied any connection to the men. Naturally, no one asked the “Agency That Didn’t Exist,” MI6. But there was no doubt about the guilt of Leather and his pals. Their undoing came about because he and Fischer had developed rival romantic interests in one of the French femmes, Marthe Moreuil, better known as “Mlle. Foxtrot,” whom they had used to coax information out of smitten French officers. For reasons never made clear, Moreuil tossed a packet of love letters out the window of a train, but managed to include a stash of compromising documents. These were retrieved by a curious farmer who dutifully turned them over to authorities. The main target of the Leather gang’s espionage was the French air force, then reckoned by London as the only air force that could pose a threat to Britain.39
Sir William Wiseman

British intrigues in France pale in comparison with those conducted in America during and between the two World Wars. In the fall of 1918 Sir William Wiseman, who for the past three years had headed the MI1c (MI6) station in New York, assured his Chief that “the details and extent of our organisation [the Americans] have never known, and don’t know to this day.󈭼 Sir William and his colleagues had conducted an aggressive, devious and very successful campaign against German operations in the US as well as the Irish and Indian nationalists with whom the Germans plotted. For instance, in 1917 San Francisco, British agents instigated a high-profile mass prosecution of Indians and Germans in the so-called “Hindu Conspiracy Trial.󈭽

No small part of this success was due to the fact that Wiseman and friends were able to finesse or coerce the collaboration of ostensibly neutral Americans. A vital part of this network of influence was the financial alliance between the British Crown and the 500-lb. gorilla of American finance, J.P. Morgan & Co.42 With utter disregard for policies in Washington, the Morganites aligned themselves with London in 1914 and used their clout to compel other American firms to do likewise. In this regard, Wiseman’s pre- and postwar career as an investment banker is not insignificant. It again smacks of Reilly’s “Occult Octopus,” and that is fitting because Reilly, along with Aleister Crowley and Casimir Pilenas, was among Wiseman’s small army of agents and informants.

By far Wiseman’s greatest achievement was his cultivation of the man who arguably was the second most powerful man in Washington, President Wilson’s confidential adviser and all-around eminence grise, Col. Edward Mandell House. The English-educated House was probably London’s man from start, and he had close ties to the Morgan interests. Wiseman credited House with making the President believe that Britain and America were joined in a “special relationship” to combat German militarism and that Wilson needed to consider British views and needs ahead of any others.43 Wiseman could credit himself and his organisation with achieving the Great Work of British imperial alchemy in the First World War – bringing America into the war.

Some American officials, among them J. Edgar Hoover, were bothered by the fact that British intelligence operations on American shores did not cease on 11 Nov. 1918.44 Not only did British surveillance of Irish and others continue, but so did their meddling in US immigration matters and the blatant collection of commercial information. Wiseman’s replacements took a keen interest in the American radical scene and infiltrated agents into the nascent US Communist movement. Some British agents were even accused of funding radical activity.45 In 1920, then British Director of Intelligence Sir Basil Thomson admitted that his organisation had enticed one of the leaders of the Communist Party of America, Louis Fraina, into London’s employ.46

William Wiseman returned to New York soon after the war and joined one of Wall Street’s biggest investment banks, Kuhn, Loeb & Co. In the 1930s, he became the firm’s point man in Hollywood and used his influence to encourage a favourable portrayal of the British Empire in American films. He never ceased to be Albion’s agent-of-influence. When war again broke out in 1939, Sir William was back in the saddle where he conducted back door negotiations with German and Japanese diplomats and helped set up the British Security Coordination (BSC) later headed by Sir William Stephenson.47 Following the pattern established by Wiseman in the last war, the BSC ran roughshod over American neutrality laws while it mounted a vast propaganda campaign aimed once again at bringing the US into the fray. Among those recruited for this effort was the influential press and radio columnist, Walter Winchell.48

As noted, the above examples barely scratch the surface in exploring the exploits of British intelligence and the “secret history” of the Empire it served. However, they hopefully offer a little glimpse of the history, reasoning and methods of Perfidious Albion.


Perfidious Albion: An Introduction to the Secret History of the British Empire

Perfidious Albion – “Treacherous England,” “Faithless England,” or, if you prefer, “Dirty, Low-down, Sneaky England” – is commonly assumed to derive from the French La Perfide Albion. The epithet’s best known appearance is in the 1793 poem “L’ere de Francais” by the Marquis de Ximenez. The year is not without significance. In February 1793, the increasingly radical and beleaguered French Republic declared war on Britain, and Ximenez exhorted his revolutionary countrymen to carry the fight to the enemy’s shores. One wonders what he would have made of the theory, advance many years later, that the very Revolution he praised was the clandestine handiwork of Perfide Albion.

In any event, the good Marquis was hardly the first or the last to invoke the term. References to something of the kind date back to the late Middle Ages. In 1919, Canon Charles O’Neil enshrined it in the lyrics of “Foggy Dew,” which lauded Ireland’s Easter Rebellion. The Spanish, recalling the ill-fated Armada and the depredations of Sir Francis Drake, speak of Perfida Albion, the Italians of Perfida Albione, and the Germans of Perfides Albion. In any language, it boils down to the same thing: the English displayed a special knack for underhanded behaviour and more that they were damned good at it.

Is such sniping just the reflexive bitterness of losers, or was the rise and success of the British Empire really abetted by dirty tricks and not just hardy seamen, stiff upper lips and the will of the Almighty? If so, much of the dirty work falls into that category loosely termed espionage or “secret service.” But the English did not invent spying, which if not the world’s second oldest profession, must be the third. Nor can it be that Britain’s alleged sin was simply putting its interests above that of any other nation, be it friend or foe. What other country can really claim to have done otherwise, and why should anyone expect them to?

Of course, we are talking about more than mere intelligence gathering suborning treason, inciting rebellion, even war, not to mention blackmail and assassination are neither the least nor the greatest crimes of which Perfidious Albion stands accused. Indeed, some might argue that the British Empire was born and maintained through a pact with the Devil himself. In any case, the likes of Stephen Dorril and Robin Ramsay argue that the long history of skulduggery manifests the hand of a British “Secret State” which continues to guide the policies and destiny of the United Kingdom.1

The notion than England possessed a special talent for deceit and underhandedness may be a myth, but it has proved an effective and enduring one. After all, though the Empire is gone, the most famous secret agent in the world, James Bond, remains a Briton. The long list of historical figures who stand accused of being Albion’s tools (whether they knew it or not) includes Christopher Marlowe, Benjamin Franklin, Karl Marx, Leon Trotsky and Adolf Hitler. Those who, to one degree or another, definitely were, include Aleister Crowley, Harry Houdini, Benito Mussolini and Noel Coward. What follows will take a necessarily very selective look at some of the persons and events involved in Britain’s clandestine affairs from the era of Elizabeth I to the Second World War. Some may be familiar, others definitely obscure, but each played a part in the Secret History of the British Empire.

Credit for creating the first “regular” English secret service usually goes to Elizabeth I’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham.2 He faced a predicament shared by many of his successors the need to combat both external and internal threats and the collaboration of the two. In the case of the Protestant Walsingham and his Protestant Queen, the unifying factor among their enemies was devotion to Catholicism. Walsingham battled this menace by recruiting agents at home and abroad and waging an aggressive campaign of counter-subversion. His most successful weapon was the provocateur or “mole” who penetrated and compromised hostile conspiracies. He also followed the maxim that England’s enemy’s enemy was her friend, or at least an exploitable tool. In addition to Protestant sympathisers and dissident Catholics, he is also supposed to have enlisted the help of witches, sorcerers and atheists in Albion’s cause.3

Little surprise that one of Walsingham’s better known operatives was an Elizabethan occultist whose interests included hermeticism, alchemy, astrology and conversing with “angels.” This was Dr. John Dee (1527–1608), a man whose encoded signature – a stylised representation of handled spectacles – was later appropriated by Ian Fleming for his “007.”4 Among other things, Dee was a prophet of England’s Manifest Destiny. He allegedly coined the term “Britannia” and conjured up the image of the small island kingdom as the centre of a world-girdling maritime empire.

While Dee served Walsingham well, he was first and foremost a scholar and seems to have lacked the ruthless quality often required of a secret agent. Thus, it surely was Walsingham’s hand that in 1582 steered Edward Kelley into his path. Dee wished to commune with the spirits but lacked mediumistic powers. Kelley had them – or claimed to – and the pair formed a team which endured for some seven years. Kelley was a dubious character, a convicted forger and counterfeiter whose occult interests included necromancy and maybe outright diabolism.5 Since the angels “spoke” through Kelley, and Dee was inclined to do whatever they decreed, Kelley was ideally positioned to “manage” Dee. Kelley would have had no qualms about doing whatever Walsingham required. Little wonder that some three centuries later another English occultist-spy, Aleister Crowley, would proclaim himself the reincarnation of Edward Kelley.

Dee and Kelley’s most important mission was their extended visit to Central Europe in the 1580s. This brought them to the court of Habsburg Emperor Rudolf II, nephew of England’s nemesis, Philip II of Spain, and host to a dangerous cabal of Catholic exiles. Kelley ultimately infiltrated and betrayed this group and their co-conspirators in England. Dee ingratiated himself (and by extension, Kelley) to Rudolf by providing the Emperor with rare tomes of esoterica. Dee is generally assumed to have sold Rudolf a very strange volume later dubbed the Voynich Manuscript after the book dealer who rediscovered it in the early 20th century.6 It is an illustrated manuscript depicting mysterious plants and rituals and written in an unknown and indecipherable alphabet. Among the multitude of theories about the book is one that holds Dee concocted it as cryptographic experiment based on the angelic or “Enochian” revelations received through Kelley.

Britain’s Alliance with the Jews

Half a century after Dee’s death, England was under a very different political regime but facing a remarkably similar security predicament. In the mid-1650s, power rested in the hands of a Puritan dictator, Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell’s principle enemies were the royalist partisans of the dethroned Stuarts who brewed sedition at home and plotted abroad with the Catholic kings of Spain and France.

At this time there lived in London a wealthy Portuguese-Spanish merchant named Antonio Fernandez de Carvajal. In fact, Carvajal was a Marrano or crypto-Jew, a descendent of Iberian Jews compelled to accept Catholicism in the previous century. Like many of his secret co-religionists, Carvajal hated Spain and all it stood for. He also sought to legitimise his and other crypto-Jews’ status in England and permit other Sons of Judah to live there openly. The obstacle was Edward I’s 1290 Edict of Expulsion which forbade Jews to dwell in England. In 1655, Carvajal arranged for Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel to come from Amsterdam and make a personal appeal to Cromwell. The Lord Protector formally repealed the Edict two years later. Part of the quid pro quo was that Carvajal put Cromwell’s agents in contact with a far-flung network of “Jewish Intelligencers” who operated in the Netherlands, the Levant, Spanish America and inside Spain itself.7 As early as 1656 this secret alliance proved its value when Carvajal’s agents exposed royalist intrigues in Holland.

Jump ahead 260 years and British agents in the Middle East, among them a certain T. E. Lawrence, were being aided by another network of Jewish spies, this one the Zionist NILI ring which worked against the Ottoman Turks.8 At the same time, Albion’s operatives spun visions of independence before the Arabs while quietly plotting to divide up the whole region with France. The leading light of the NILI ring, Aaron Aaronsohn perished in a mysterious plane crash over the English Channel in 1919. As in the later cases of the Duke of Kent (1942) and General Wladyslaw Sikorski (1943), suspicious minds saw the hidden hand of Perfidious Albion ridding itself of an “inconvenience.”9

At the very least, had Edward I’s Edict remained in force, British history would have been very different. No Rothschilds would have lent their weight to London’s financial might, no Benjamin Disraeli would have become prime minister, nor would a Polish Jew named Shlomo Rozenblium have become Sidney Reilly, the Ace-of-Spies.

The French Revolution has spawned its share of conspiracy theories. Perhaps the most resilient of these is the “Illuminati-Masonic Conspiracy” promoted by Abbe Augustin de Barruel in his Memoirs Illustrating the History of Jacobinism (1797–98) and John Robison’s Proofs of a Conspiracy against All Religions and Governments of Europe… (1797). Both writers point accusing fingers at the recently disbanded Bavarian Illuminati who, they allege, infiltrated French Freemasonry and spawned the head-chopping excesses of the Jacobins. It is worth noting that both Barruel and Robison wrote their books in Britain and that the government of Sir William Pitt the Younger embraced and promoted their ideas. At the very least, Pitt exploited the conspiracy theory to effectively discredit and demonise the French Revolution.

In the 20th century, the doggedly anti-British researchers associated with Lyndon Larouche’s Executive Intelligence Review argue that the hidden hand of England both helped to get the Revolution rolling and steered it into the hands of the fanatical Jacobins. In modern parlance, it was all a “destabilisation” effort designed to cripple France economically and politically. Even the storming of the Bastille was part of the plot.10 In the “Bestial British Intelligence of Shelburne and Bentham,” Jeffrey Steinberg singles out Lord Shelburne (William Petty) the evil genius of the venture who used the monetary power of the East India Company to carry out a silent coup against weak King George III.11 According to this view, British intelligence ever since has been the tool of the same secret power. If so, were the works of Barruel and Robison sponsored disinformation designed to divert attention away from the real conspiracy to a manufactured one?

Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, the British secret services had to negotiate a shifting landscape of alliances and real or potential enemies. In the 1850s, Britain joined traditional foe France in the Crimean War against Russia, but in the 1890’s France allied itself with Russia, a combination that was almost as troubling to Britain as it was to the rising power on the block, Germany. Up to the first years of the 20th century, Tsarist Russia remained the Empire’s #1 adversary, but when, after 1900, the Germans embarked on the creation of a big navy, British interests demanded an alliance with France (1904) and subsequently Russia (1907).

Of course, just because you were allied to someone, didn’t mean you would or should stop spying on them. To better manage intelligence operations, a War Office Intelligence Division appeared in 1873. The Admiralty followed suit with a Foreign Intelligence Committee in 1882 which became the Naval Intelligence Department (NID) a few years later.

Nevertheless, the man who was the closest thing to a British spymaster in the late 19th century, and who arguably laid the basis for British intelligence in the 20th, came from the London Metropolitan Police – Scotland Yard. His name was William Melville and he was, of all things, a Catholic Irishman from County Kerry. Originally a baker, Melville entered the Metropolitan Police in 1872 and ten years later joined its new Irish Branch. The latter was designed to combat Fenian conspiracies, particularly bomb attacks in London. Despite his background, Melville became an implacable enemy of the Irish rebels and a bitter foe of anarchists and radicals generally.

In 1887, Melville was involved in ferreting out the so-called Jubilee Plot in which a Fenian cabal aimed to blow up Queen Victoria and most of her cabinet in Westminster Abbey.12 The key instigator turned out to be a British agent. Much the same emerged five years later when Melville masterminded the destruction of the Walsall Plot in which a group of anarchist workmen went to prison for scheming to build a bomb. Once again, the man at the centre of plot turned out to be one of Melville’s provocateurs.13

Befitting a servant of Perfidious Albion, such deviousness did not go unrewarded. In 1893 Melville became Superintendent of Special Branch and earned an almost mythical reputation as the ever-watchful guardian of public order. Always on the lookout for new angles in trickery and deception, in 1900 Melville enlisted the talents of American magician Harry Houdini. He even inveigled Houdini to spy for him during his tours of Germany and Russia.14

Still, this did not inhibit Melville from establishing cooperative arrangements with the secret services of those very same countries. In 1901, he worked with German agents to forestall an assassination attempt against Kaiser Wilhelm II at Queen Victoria’s funeral.15 He evolved a more elaborate relationship with Pyotr Rachkovsky, the equally cunning chief of the Russian Government’s Okhrana section in Paris. Melville’s men spied on Russian exiles in London, while Rachkovsky supplied Melville with intelligence gleaned from radical circles on the Continent. They even shared agents.

A case in point is the Pilenas brothers, Casimir and Peter. They were Lithuanian subjects of the Russian Empire who fled to London in the 1890s and moved in revolutionary circles. Casimir became a spotter and informant for Scotland Yard around 1896 and he and his brother worked as London operatives for the Okhrana.16 Their recruiter was one of Melville’s officers, Michael Thorpe who also, with Melville’s approval, worked for Rachkovsky.

The Okhrana came to doubt the Pilenas’ reliability and cut them loose in 1913. This may have had something to do with their peripheral involvement in a sensational robbery-murder in London in December 1910. The so-called Houndsditch Murders resulted from a botched burglary attempt by a group of Latvian-Russian anarchists.17 Three policemen were shot dead and not long after two of the suspects died in a fiery shoot-out in the East End’s Sidney Street. Despite what first appeared to be overwhelming evidence, the surviving robbers were all acquitted. One reason for the acquittals may have been that there was one or more police agents among the accused.

The group’s shadowy ringleader, “Peter the Painter,” was never found, but among those suspected was Peter Pilenas who conveniently left England for America just days before the robbery went down. Peter soon was followed to the States by brother Casimir. When the First World War broke out, British intelligence in New York re-mobilised him as an agent, and he similarly returned to Albion’s service (if he ever left) in 1939.

There is something fishy about the Houndsditch/Sidney Street business, and the suspicion that it involved State-inspired provocation is not unjustified. In that respect, a not insignificant detail is that the Home Secretary who personally oversaw the Sidney Street shoot-out was Winston Churchill, a man who some believe “had already sealed an indissoluble bond” with the Realm’s secret services.18

Melville resigned his Scotland Yard post in October 1903 but immediately opened a private detective agency under the name William Morgan. In fact, Melville’s outfit was a cut-out for the War Office and served the Empire’s secret needs at home and abroad. Basically, Melville’s agents did the Empire’s dirty work under a cover of complete deniability. In 1909, most of his organisation was subsumed into two new agencies created to handle domestic and foreign intelligence (what would become MI5 and MI6) and Melville served as MI5’s Chief Detective until his real retirement in 1917.

One of Melville’s most notable recruits was the Russo-Polish Jew mentioned earlier, Shlomo, or Salomon, Rozenblium. He would be much better known as Sidney George Reilly. His career is too convoluted to summarise here, but among other things, he is frequently cited as the role model for James Bond.19 Like so many things about Reilly, it turns out to have no basis in fact. In reality, Reilly was more a confidence man than a spy, and his loyalty to Britain, or anything else, was doubtful. A report on his character in early 1918 concluded that he was “a shrewd businessman of undoubted ability, but without patriotism or principles and therefore not to be recommended for any position which requires loyalty….”20 Other terms applied to him included “untrustworthy” and “unscrupulous.” Among the few things said in his favour was that he had excellent sources of information and “connections in almost every country.”21 Reilly liked to hint of his connections to the “Occult Octopus,” his name for the more secretive aspects of international business and finance.22

Nevertheless, despite his mercenary reputation, or maybe because of it, in the spring of 1918 the chief of London’s Secret Intelligence Service (SIS or MI6), chose Reilly to undertake an ultra-secret mission inside newly Bolshevised Russia. The main fruit of this venture was the so-called Lockhart or Ambassadors’ Plot which reached its crescendo in late August of that year. The plot centred on a plan, spearheaded by Reilly, to subvert the Latvian troops guarding the Kremlin and use them in a palace coup against Lenin’s government. The goal was less the total overthrow of the Red regime than a change in its leadership, and there is little doubt that an almost simultaneous, but botched, effort to kill Lenin was connected.23 The Latvian gambit abruptly fell apart with the result that all the Allied secret services in Russia were compromised. Reilly and his British colleagues escaped unscathed, but his American counterpart, the unlikely named Xenophon Kalamatiano, was not so lucky. He alone was tried, convicted and imprisoned by the Bolsheviks for three gruelling years. To his dying day Kalamatiano maintained that Reilly had deliberately betrayed him and other Allied agents.24 What he never seemed quite sure of was why.

Sidney Reilly disappeared on another mission to Russia in the fall of 1925. According to contradictory Soviet accounts, either he was executed soon after his capture or almost two years later. In London there were routine denials and whispers of defection. In what purports to be an account of his interrogation, Reilly emphatically states that there had been no British agents in Russia since 1919.25 It may be that one purpose of Reilly’s mission was to convince his Soviet captors that this was true. Persons in London may have willingly sacrificed Reilly to make that point.

It was vital that the Soviets believe him, because nothing could be further from the truth. As researcher Phil Tomaselli has unearthed, from the fall of 1919 through at least mid-1923, MI6 received scores of reports, many very detailed, from a source with access to the highest levels of the Soviet Government. The source was also particularly well-versed in the secret collaboration between the Russians and the German military. Codenamed D-57, the agent’s identity was carefully disguised indeed, it is not clear whether D-57 was an individual or a network of informants. As far as can be determined, the information provided was reliable.

D-57 was only a part of a much more extensive British intelligence operation in Red Russia. As a 1927 American military intelligence summary put it, “Just what agencies are maintained [by the British] in Russia, of course, cannot be found out, but according to recent Soviet claims, which are undoubtedly exaggerated, the British have an extensive system of espionage in that country.”26 Actually, the Soviets were not hallucinating. London had intelligence officers imbedded in its trade and diplomatic missions, and in the ranks of private firms operating in Russia. Through the 1920s, a super-secret MI6 station existed in Moscow, though, like D-57, it remains completely unacknowledged in that agency’s official history.27 Why? Why would such a seemingly outstanding success be covered-up? Could it be that to reveal the story of D-57 and related affairs would also reveal some darker secrets of the Empire, those that must forever remain in the file of Things That Never Happened?

The Soviets were not the only ones who had to fret about the nefarious activities of English spies. The French had ample reason to maintain a healthy paranoia about L’Intelligence Service. Around 1877, a certain Dr. Cornelius Herz appeared in Paris. Although supposedly born in France, Herz claimed American citizenship, but his origins are, to say the least, obscure. He used his not inconsiderable wealth, the source of which was also a mystery, to dabble in finance and politics, initially to great success. He cultivated political figures in the Third Republic, most notably the sabre-rattling General Georges Ernest Boulanger, who almost staged a coup against the Republican regime at the end of the 1880s. Herz also befriended a rising politico named Georges Clemenceau, the future “Tiger of France.”

However, Herz’s little empire came crashing down when, along with another wheeler-dealer, the Baron de Reinach, he became mixed-up in the Panama Canal Scandal that hit France at the beginning of the 1890s. The Scandal, which included charges of bribery and official malfeasance, rocked the Republic to its foundations. To avoid prosecution, Herz, like others implicated, fled aboard, but it was the place of refuge he chose that raised eyebrows. Herz decamped to England in 1892 where, despite vigorous French efforts to force his extradition, he remained safe and silent until his rather untimely (some might argue convenient) death six years later.28 In France it became an article of faith that Herz had been an “agent-of-influence” of Perfide Albionand that his aim all along was to destabilise the Third Republic any way he could. Some of his critics charged that Herz was nothing less than the “chief of the Intelligence Service in France.”29 Herz, naturally, denied any such thing.

It was not lost on certain persons, among the outspoken anti-semite Eduoard Drumont, that Herz and Reinach were Jews, and this played into another scandal that hit the Republic in 1894 and raged for several years – the infamous Dreyfus Affair. By 1898–99, it had polarised France into pro- and anti-Dreyfusard camps and again brought the Third Republic to the brink of collapse. Britain’s secret services were not above fishing in these troubled waters. One man who thought the Republic’s crisis might be his opportunity was Victor Bonaparte, Prince Napoleon, or as die-hard Bonapartists referred to him, Napoleon V. From his exile in Belgium, he boasted of organising a march on Paris to seize control and restore order. Among the surviving records of War Office Intelligence, there is reference to the fact that in May 1901, British agents met with Prince Napoleon in Holland where they “sounded out” his views about affairs in France and elsewhere.30 So, the Empire’s agents now connived with the heir of the man they had worked so hard to bring down almost ninety years before.

Some thought it more than coincidence that just as Herz’s star began to fade, another foreigner of mysterious wealth and provenance popped up in Paris.31This was Basil Zaharoff, who had already gone through half a dozen aliases and careers in places as far ranging as Constantinople, London, Cyprus and America.32 No one was certain, or ever would be, whether Zaharoff was of Greek, Jewish, or Russian origin. He established a special relationship with British interests in the 1870s and that endured, to one degree or another, until his death in Monte Carlo in 1936. In the interim, Sir Basil, as he was later known, earned infamy and vast wealth as the world’s paramount arms dealer or, as the less charitable termed him, the “Merchant of Death.” Zaharoff later spread his tentacles into ship-building, banking, radio communications and, perhaps most prescient of all, oil. The basis of his business success was what he called the “System.” In essence, this involved selling arms to both sides in a conflict and even instigating conflicts when need or opportunity arose.

Zaharoff maintained an official residence in Paris and was rewarded by the French with enrolment in the Legion of Honor. But it was London which gave him an Order of the British Empire and a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath for his special services. Sir Basil was intimately connected with the British-owned Vickers firm and British politicians like future Prime Minister David Lloyd George.33 His influence reached its peak during the First World War. According to T. P. O’Connor, “Allied statesmen and leaders were obliged to consult with him before planning any great attack.”34 He was also rumoured to operate a private intelligence service which put the French Surete to shame.35 His legion of sub-agents allegedly included the above-mentioned Sidney Reilly and arch-schemer Ignatius Trebitsch-Lincoln.36 French investigative journalist Roger Menevee, the first to attempt a biography of Zaharoff, was convinced that not only was he a key British asset, but also was a kingpin in a shadowy “International Oligarchy” which dominated the world’s economy. One can only wonder how that connected to Reilly’s “Occult Octopus” or to the “High Cabal” alluded to by Winston Churchill.37 Was Zaharoff a manifestation of the link between British imperial interests and some sort of “Illuminati”? If so, who was running who?

Yet another example of British spying on France, this one in the wake of the First World War, provides a little comic relief. In December 1925, the Suretearrested three male British subjects and two French female accomplices on charges of espionage. All were convicted in subsequent proceedings. The leading figure in the case, Capt. John Henry Leather, and his two colleagues, Ernest Phillips and William Fischer, were employees of the Paris office of the Burndept Wireless Co. They also all had recent backgrounds in British military intelligence. As of 1925, in fact, Leather was still attached to MI2(b), the War Office outfit handling intelligence in Western Europe.38

The Foreign Office, Air Ministry and Admiralty ritually denied any connection to the men. Naturally, no one asked the “Agency That Didn’t Exist,” MI6. But there was no doubt about the guilt of Leather and his pals. Their undoing came about because he and Fischer had developed rival romantic interests in one of the French femmes, Marthe Moreuil, better known as “Mlle. Foxtrot,” whom they had used to coax information out of smitten French officers. For reasons never made clear, Moreuil tossed a packet of love letters out the window of a train, but managed to include a stash of compromising documents. These were retrieved by a curious farmer who dutifully turned them over to authorities. The main target of the Leather gang’s espionage was the French air force, then reckoned by London as the only air force that could pose a threat to Britain.39

British intrigues in France pale in comparison with those conducted in America during and between the two World Wars. In the fall of 1918 Sir William Wiseman, who for the past three years had headed the MI1c (MI6) station in New York, assured his Chief that “the details and extent of our organisation [the Americans] have never known, and don’t know to this day.”40Sir William and his colleagues had conducted an aggressive, devious and very successful campaign against German operations in the US as well as the Irish and Indian nationalists with whom the Germans plotted. For instance, in 1917 San Francisco, British agents instigated a high-profile mass prosecution of Indians and Germans in the so-called “Hindu Conspiracy Trial.”41

No small part of this success was due to the fact that Wiseman and friends were able to finesse or coerce the collaboration of ostensibly neutral Americans. A vital part of this network of influence was the financial alliance between the British Crown and the 500-lb. gorilla of American finance, J.P. Morgan & Co.42 With utter disregard for policies in Washington, the Morganites aligned themselves with London in 1914 and used their clout to compel other American firms to do likewise. In this regard, Wiseman’s pre- and postwar career as an investment banker is not insignificant. It again smacks of Reilly’s “Occult Octopus,” and that is fitting because Reilly, along with Aleister Crowley and Casimir Pilenas, was among Wiseman’s small army of agents and informants.

By far Wiseman’s greatest achievement was his cultivation of the man who arguably was the second most powerful man in Washington, President Wilson’s confidential adviser and all-around eminence grise, Col. Edward Mandell House. The English-educated House was probably London’s man from start, and he had close ties to the Morgan interests. Wiseman credited House with making the President believe that Britain and America were joined in a “special relationship” to combat German militarism and that Wilson needed to consider British views and needs ahead of any others.43 Wiseman could credit himself and his organisation with achieving the Great Work of British imperial alchemy in the First World War – bringing America into the war.

Some American officials, among them J. Edgar Hoover, were bothered by the fact that British intelligence operations on American shores did not cease on 11 Nov. 1918.44 Not only did British surveillance of Irish and others continue, but so did their meddling in US immigration matters and the blatant collection of commercial information. Wiseman’s replacements took a keen interest in the American radical scene and infiltrated agents into the nascent US Communist movement. Some British agents were even accused of fundingradical activity.45 In 1920, then British Director of Intelligence Sir Basil Thomson admitted that his organisation had enticed one of the leaders of the Communist Party of America, Louis Fraina, into London’s employ.46

William Wiseman returned to New York soon after the war and joined one of Wall Street’s biggest investment banks, Kuhn, Loeb & Co. In the 1930s, he became the firm’s point man in Hollywood and used his influence to encourage a favourable portrayal of the British Empire in American films. He never ceased to be Albion’s agent-of-influence. When war again broke out in 1939, Sir William was back in the saddle where he conducted back door negotiations with German and Japanese diplomats and helped set up the British Security Coordination (BSC) later headed by Sir William Stephenson.47Following the pattern established by Wiseman in the last war, the BSC ran roughshod over American neutrality laws while it mounted a vast propaganda campaign aimed once again at bringing the US into the fray. Among those recruited for this effort was the influential press and radio columnist, Walter Winchell.48

As noted, the above examples barely scratch the surface in exploring the exploits of British intelligence and the “secret history” of the Empire it served. However, they hopefully offer a little glimpse of the history, reasoning and methods of Perfidious Albion.

  1. See, for example, Dorril and Ramsay’s Smear: Wilson and the Secret State, London: HarperCollins, 1992 and, more broadly, Lobster: The Journal of Parapolitics.
  2. See Stephen Budiansky, Her Majesty’s Spymaster: Elizabeth I, Sir Francis Walsingham and the Birth of Modern Espionage, New York: Viking, 2005.
  3. Ellen Wilson, “Raleigh’s Secret Society: Sir Walter Raleigh’s ‘School of Night’ in Elizabethan England” (7 May 2008), http://www.tudorhistory.suite101.com/article.cfm/the_school_of_night.
  4. Richard Deacon, John Dee: Scientist, Geographer, Astrologer and Secret Agent to Elizabeth I, London: Frederick Muller, 1968, 5.
  5. Ibid., 123-125.
  6. For a good overview, see Rene Zandbergen, “The Voynich Manuscript,” http://www.voynich.nu. The dealer, a Pole named Wilfrid Voynich, also happened to be an early associate of Sidney Reilly.
  7. Lucien Wolf, “Cromwell’s Jewish Intelligencers,” in C. Roth (ed.), Essays in Jewish History, London: Jewish Historical Society of England, 1934, 93-112.
  8. Ronald Florence, Lawrence and Aaronsohn: T. E. Lawrence, Aaron Aaronsohn and the Seeds of the Arab-Israeli Conflict, New York: Viking (2008).
  9. Ben Cohen, “The Amazing Life of Aaron Aaronshon,” The Daily Banter (14 Aug. 2007), http://www.thedailybanter.com/tdb/palestine/.
  10. Pierre Boudry, “Jean-Sylvain Bailly: The Benjamin Franklin of the French Revolution,” http://www.schillerinstitute.org/educ/hist/bailly.html.
  11. Jeffrey Steinberg, “The Bestial British Intelligence of Shelburne and Bentham,“ http://www.hiddenmysteries.org/conspiracy/history/bestialbrits.shtml.
  12. Andrew Cook, M: MI5’s First Spymaster, Stroud, Gloucestershire: Tempus, 2004, 60-63.
  13. Ibid., 87-93.
  14. William Kalush and Larry Sloman, The Secret Life of Houdini: The Making of America’s First Superhero, New York: Atria, 2006, 99-101, 135.
  15. Cook, 134-135.
  16. Hoover Institution Archives, Stanford, CA, Okhrana Records, IIIf, Deep Cover Agents – Russian, (L-Z).
  17. See Donald Rumbelow, The Houndsditch Murders and the Siege of Sidney Street, London: MacMillan, 1973.
  18. Guido Preparata, Conjuring Hitler: How Britain and America Made the Third Reich, London: Pluto Press, 2005, 109.
  19. Donald McCormick, 17F: The Life of Ian Fleming. London: Peter Owen, 1993, 208.
  20. UK, Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), File CX 2616, CX 023100, 13 March 1918.
  21. Ibid., CX 023996, 20 March 1918.
  22. Gill Bennett, Churchill’s Man of Mystery: Desmond Morton and the World of Intelligence, London: Routledge, 2007, 61.
  23. Re the “Lockhart Plot,” see Richard B. Spence, Trust No One: The Secret World of Sidney Reilly, Los Angeles: Feral House, 2002, 200-229.
  24. Richard B. Spence, “The Tragic Fate of Kalamatiano: America’s Man in Moscow,” International Journal of Intelligence and CounterIntelligence, Vol. 12, #3 (Fall 1999), 354.
  25. Richard B. Spence, (ed.), “Sidney Reilly’s Lubianka ‘Diary’, 30 October – 4 November 1925,” Revolutionary Russia, Vol. 8, #2 (December 1995), 183.
  26. U.S. National Archives, Records of the Military Intelligence Division (MID), 9944-A-81, G-2 Report 6110, “England (military)”, 5 July 1927.
  27. Phil Tomaselli, “C’s Moscow Station – The Anglo-Russian Trade Mission as Cover for SIS in the Early 20s,” Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, #3 (Sept. 2002), 173-180, and Tomaselli to author.
  28. “Dr. Cornelius Herz Dead,” New York Times (7 July 1898), 7.
  29. Charles Rochat-Cenisse, Roi des Armes: La Vie Mysterieuse de Basile Zaharoff. Bienne: Editions du Chandlier, 1943, 77.
  30. U.K. National Archives, Intelligence Department Records, HD3/111, Pt. 1.
  31. Rochat-Cenisse, 76-77.
  32. Donald McCormick, Peddler of Death: The Life and Times of Sir Basil Zaharoff, New York: Holt, Rinehart, Winston, 1965, 22-47.
  33. Ibid., 98-99.
  34. Ibid., 150.
  35. George Tallas and Anthony Stephen, Peddler of Wars: The Sir Basil Zaharoff Story, Bloomington, IN: AuthorHouse, 2007, vii.
  36. Re Trebitsch, see: Richard B. Spence, “The Mysteries of Trebitsch-Lincoln: Con-Man, Spy, ‘Counter-Initiate’?”, New Dawn, #116 (Sept-Oct 2009).
  37. Moss David Posner, “The High Cabal,” The American Chronicle (15 Sept. 2005), http://www.americanchronicle.com/articles/view/2406.
  38. Phil Tomaselli, Tracing Your Secret Service Ancestors, Barnsley, S. Yorkshire: Penn & Sword, 2009, 123
  39. Ibid., 124.
  40. Yale University, Sterling Library Special Collections, Sir William Wiseman Papers, Box 6, File 174, Wiseman to Chief, 6 Sept. 1918, 2.
  41. Richard B. Spence, “Englishman in New York: the SIS American Station, 1915-21,” Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 19, #3 (Autumn 2004), 518-919.
  42. Richard B. Spence, “Sidney Reilly in America, 1914-1917,” Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 10, #1 (Jan. 1995), 95.
  43. Spence, “Englishman in New York,” 523.
  44. MID, 9944-A-178, “British Espionage in the United States,” 15 Feb. 1921, 1-2.
  45. U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Investigation Investigative Files, #8000-357986, “Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, Mina Lowensohn,” 29 December 1919, 16-17.
  46. MID, “British Espionage in the United States,” 6.
  47. William Stephenson, British Security Coordination: The Secret History of British Intelligence in America, 1940-45, New York: Fromm International, 1999, 233-235.
  48. Thomas E. Mahl, Desperate Deception: British Covert Operations in the United States, 1939-44, Dulles, VA: Brassey’s, 1998, 202.

*Dr. Richard Spence is a professor of History at the University of Idaho. Among other works, he is the author of Trust No One: The Secret World of Sidney Reilly (Feral House, 2002). His latest book is Secret Agent 666: Aleister Crowley, British Intelligence and the Occult, published by Feral House.


Journalist spies lifted veil on Soviet Russia, 1920-21

Origins of the Military Intelligence Division

The Military Intelligence Division, first called the Military Intelligence Section, sprang from the upheavals stirred by World War I. Until that time, the United States had relied heavily on its European allies to provide intelligence information. But a few in the U.S. Army ranks understood that America could not assume world leadership unless it gathered its own information on political and economic developments. Foremost among those visionaries was Army Colonel Ralph Van Deman.[1]

Van Deman, who had overseen intelligence operations in the Philippines at the turn of the twentieth century, recognized that with the approach of the Great War, the United States could no longer depend on allies and a handful of attaches assigned to American embassies to monitor military and diplomatic developments. In April 1917, he persuaded his superiors in Washington to create a military spy agency. As Van Deman was developing the organizational structure for the Military Intelligence Section, he considered two of Europe’s most robust spy agencies: that of Great Britain and that of France. Ultimately, he chose to model the American service after that of Great Britain, and he formed an organization that initially had sectors for administration (MI-1), collection and dissemination of foreign intelligence (MI-2), military counterespionage (MI-3), civilian counterespionage (MI-4), and code breaking (MI-8).[2]

As is often the case with government bureaucracies, Van Deman’s agency at times struggled to articulate its mission and cooperate with existing army intelligence operations in Europe. With General John Pershing insisting on gathering his own information on the ground in France, Van Deman focused mostly on counterintelligence — finding spies and provocateurs bent on harming America or its troops.

In addition to modeling his agency’s organizational structure after the British service, Van Deman adopted another British practice: the employment of journalists to collect information. At the time, the American press had only the most embryonic notions of ethics and objectivity. Reporters were expected to write the facts, but they did not have to be impartial. As Michael Schudson describes, the creed of objective reporting would not arise until after World War I as part of a greater movement toward professionalism.[3] Embodying this trend was the founding of the American Society of Newspaper Editors in 1923 and its codification of journalistic ethics advocating independence, freedom, and truth.[4]

But America in 1916 was a nation still learning its way in the world, and journalists were conflicted over whether to be patriots or truth tellers. While some newsmen expressed misgivings about the U.S. entry into what they believed to be a European conflict, many more rallied to support the Great War, inflamed in no small part by the propaganda churned out by George Creel’s Committee on Public Information. Initially set up to disseminate information about the war, the organization grew in numbers and power. Capitalizing on war fever, Creel parlayed a small staff working from a library in the Navy building near the White House into an organization that employed 395 staffers and thousands of volunteers. The Creel Committee rallied the war effort through posters, films, cartoons, billboards, and songs distributed government speeches developed lesson plans for schools and issued ten press releases a day to fill the nation’s newspapers.[5] American news organizations gave their support to the cause, publishing patriotic articles and urging their readers to buy war bonds. It was but a small step for journalists to also aid the Allied effort by providing information to government intelligence agencies.

In Our Secret War, New York Sun reporter Thomas Johnson described the birth of the Army’s intelligence division and the officers who filled its ranks: “former college professors, linguists, globe-trotters, geographers, detectives, newspaper men, lawyers international and criminal, code experts, radio men, draftsmen, printers.”[6] Johnson described two agents — “A-1” and “A-2”— dispatched to Berlin, one posing as a reporter for a financial newspaper in order to gather economic data and the other pretending to work for the New York Sun to gather political information — a cover that was nearly blown when a real reporter for the Sun encountered the agent.

Aside from sending agents to pose as journalists, the Military Intelligence Division also solicited information from real reporters, including four who slipped secretly into Berlin and interviewed Socialist revolutionaries. The journalists were happy to share what they had learned with American army commanders and struck a deal about what information they could tell their readers.[7]

The most well-known of the Military Intelligence Division journalist spies was Marguerite Harrison, a Baltimore socialite who began her espionage career in 1917 giving tips to the U.S Department of Justice about suspected German agents in Baltimore while she was a music and theater reviewer at the Baltimore Sun.

A few months before World War I ended, Harrison officially applied to work as a spy for the Military Intelligence Division. Harrison later wrote that she joined the service because she wanted to do her part for the war effort. But she undoubtedly also was drawn to espionage for the adventure. A seasoned traveler who could speak four languages fluently, Harrison promised she could be discreet. MID Director Brigadier General Marlborough Churchill agreed to hire her, making her the first American female foreign intelligence agent. Although the war ended before Harrison could take up her duties, Churchill sent her to Berlin in December 1918 to gather information that would aid the U.S. peace talks in Versailles.[8]

Harrison’s mission had the full knowledge and support of Baltimore Sun managing editor Frank Kent, further illustrating the complicated relationship between the press and the intelligence services. Kent was a well-regarded newsman who had traveled to Europe to see firsthand the conditions at the end of the war and had returned with the first uncensored accounts of the conflict in four years. His reports of tension among the Allies infuriated U.S. officials, but journalists praised his honest reporting.[9]

Nevertheless, Kent saw nothing contradictory about criticizing American policies while giving cover to an Army spy. After all, the Baltimore Sun had been an ardent supporter of the war from the time the United States entered the conflict. One of the paper’s owners, Van-Lear Black, had headed Maryland’s war bond publicity committee and assigned Sun clerks to sell bonds from the newspaper’s office. By 1919, the newspaper had sold more than four million dollars’ worth of bonds to 28,499 people.[10]

The newspaper assignment Kent devised to cover Harrison’s spy mission was innocuous enough. The Baltimore Sun had produced a motion picture titled Miles of Smiles to boost troop morale. The movie had been shot around Maryland showing the soldiers’ wives, parents, girlfriends, and children waving and holding up messages to their loved ones. With its production complete, Harrison would travel to Europe to show the movie to the homesick troops anxiously awaiting their return to Maryland. Once overseas, she would make her way to Germany and write feature stories while collecting intelligence information.[11]

Harrison took up her assignment in France in December 1918, although she and Van Deman later gave starkly different accounts of her objectives. Harrison wrote that her orders were to show the Sun movie to Maryland troops in France, and then travel to Berlin posing as a reporter to gather information on the economic and political conditions and the attitudes of the Germans toward the peace treaty.[12] Van Deman, who wrote his recollection more than fifty years later with the aid of a diary in which he had recorded names and dates of meetings, recalled that Harrison was assigned to Paris to keep an eye on the approximately one hundred newspaper correspondents assigned to cover the peace conference. A few weeks after she arrived, Van Deman learned that American Communist Robert Minor was distributing propaganda leaflets to U.S. troops. “Marguerite Harrison came into the office and I read the report to her. She offered to go to Germany herself and persuade Minor to come out with her in order that we might apprehend him in either British or American territory. For this purpose, she was authorized to go to Germany, which she did, and during the period she spent in Berlin she also witnessed and reported on the Communist uprising there.”[13]

Whether her work was to spy on other journalists or collect economic and political data, Harrison’s newspaper credentials gave her access to German government officials and allowed her to pass through military checkpoints. And, in many respects, she approached the work of espionage as she did that of journalism. To gather information, she talked to shopkeepers, chambermaids, soldiers, prostitutes, and bankers. She toured factories and collected data on unemployment and food supplies. Johnson, who interviewed Harrison for his book, described her as the mysterious “Agent Q” or “Number 8,” an agent so valued that her reports went directly to President Woodrow Wilson.[14]

When her work in Germany was complete, Harrison returned to Baltimore to await her next assignment.

Russian Enigma

Reliable information on Russia had always been difficult to obtain. Its vastness and complexity had made it a difficult country for journalists to cover. After the fall of the czar and the eruption of civil war in 1917, the mysteries of the country deepened. Few American reporters made it inside, with some notable exceptions. John Reed, who documented the revolution in his seminal work, Ten Days that Shook the World, was among a handful of Western journalists in Russia to witness the October Revolution. New York Mail reporter Rheta Childe Dorr attached herself to a regiment of female soldiers in Petrograd and witnessed clashes between government soldiers and the Bolsheviks until she left in September 1917.[15] Peggy Hull, who had covered U.S. troops in France, accompanied the American Expeditionary Force to Siberia in 1918.[16] But as the Bolsheviks solidified their control, they carefully screened foreign journalists. They expelled Associated Press correspondents in late 1918 and refused entry to journalists from “bourgeois” newspapers, thus making it difficult for Western readers to get impartial news of the country.[17]

The American government was in the dark as well, even as the Wilson Administration debated whether to recognize the Bolshevik regime. In September 1918, Wilson dispatched nine thousand American troops to Siberia to aid Czechoslovakian prisoners stranded when Russia withdrew from World War I. But as the White Army assembled in Siberia to make a final stand against the Bolsheviks, the United States was pressed to decide whether to remain neutral or join the fight. The situation was so confusing that the Military Intelligence Division supplied the American Expeditionary Force with handbooks on Russia that included blank pages for the officers to record their own observations, but no one even bothered to collect the books.[18]

Almost two years after Bolsheviks seized power, the United States still had no coherent Russia policy. On the one hand, Wilson advocated the right of countries to choose their own forms of government. Yet he and many of his advisors detested Communism and secretly aided anti-Bolshevik efforts to oust Lenin.[19] By then the Red Scare had seized the United States. Even Nellie Bly, back from Austria where she had fled to escape debt collectors, professed that the United States “was nearest and dearest to her heart” and offered to spy for the Military Intelligence Division to save the country from Bolshevism. Marlborough Churchill told his men that her proposition “should not be taken seriously.”[20]

While Churchill was unwilling to take a chance on the unpredictable Nellie Bly, he did not dismiss the idea of using journalists to collect intelligence data or of using news organizations to provide cover for MID agents. Of the four American journalists arrested in Russia in 1920–21 on suspicion of espionage, two are known to have been working for the Military Intelligence Division and a third confessed to spying, although intelligence officials adamantly denied his claim.

Marguerite Harrison in Russia

Marguerite Harrison preparing to enter Russia, 1920.

Among the known journalist agents in Russia, Harrison became the most famous — and the most controversial. With the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, Harrison returned to Baltimore and resumed her work as a theater and music critic for the Baltimore Sun while awaiting her next mission. Military officials were so pleased with her work in Germany, they argued among themselves about where she should go next. In October 1919, Churchill made his decision. He assigned Harrison a cipher book and the code name “B.” Her destination: Russia.[21]

Churchill needed to send one of his best agents to try to penetrate the fog of the Bolshevik government. America’s Russian spy network was in shambles. The head of its Moscow cell, Xenophon Kalamatiano, was in prison after being caught the year before in a plot to overthrow the Bolshevik government. The chief of the Petrograd ring, Vice Consul Robert W. Imbrie, had fled to Finland after the Bolshevik Revolution, but several of his accomplices had been captured trying to aid the White Army as it prepared to storm Petrograd.[22]

Harrison’s mission in Russia depended entirely on her being able to convince the Reds that she was a journalist sympathetic to the Bolshevik cause who wanted only to tell American readers about the great advances in the workers’ paradise. But the Russians were alert to this ruse. Several British agents had posed as newspaper correspondents, and Kalamatiano had claimed to run an information service gathering economic data – until Cheka police found a list of ciphers, agents, and military positions hidden in his cane.[23]

Harrison’s objective was to gather intelligence about the enemy and try to determine what had become of imprisoned Americans, including U.S. agents. As he had before, Baltimore Sun managing editor Kent furnished Harrison with credentials that allowed her to pose as a correspondent. She also secured assignments from the New York Evening Post and Underwood News Photo Service, which provided Harrison a reason to carry a camera. Additionally, Churchill arranged for her to meet Robert M. Collins, the Associated Press’s London bureau chief, who gave her letters affirming she was a wire-service correspondent. Agreeing to pay her fifty dollars a week if she succeeded in getting news from Russia, Collins wrote to Harrison: “Wishing you all success, and an interesting and valuable experience.”[24]

Because the United States did not have diplomatic relations with Russia, Harrison applied to Russia’s unofficial representative in New York, Ludwig Martens, for a visa. Martens refused, however, saying Soviet Russia was admitting only journalists who worked for Socialist newspapers. [25]

The Bolsheviks had good reason to keep out the foreign press. They were fighting to retain their hold on power in the face of opposition from monarchist, Socialist, and other Communist parties. The nationalization of industries and a blockade imposed by Western countries had created severe hardships. Fuel and food were scarce, factories were shuttered, and the carcasses of disabled locomotives littered the rail lines. The journalists who were allowed into the country were carefully monitored. British agent Francis McCullagh, who posed as a journalist in Moscow in early 1920, described the control that the Bolsheviks exerted over the foreign correspondents: Reporters were given visas to stay for only three weeks. If they did not write positive news about the Russian government or wrote nothing at all, they were expelled. Every aspect of their lives was monitored. They lived in a guesthouse along with spies from the Foreign Office. They were not allowed visitors without permission. The Bolsheviks arranged all their interviews and accompanied them when they attended meetings, toured intuitions, and even went to the theater. Foreign Affairs commissar Georgy Chicherin personally screened every story and wire dispatch before allowing reporters to send their items through the mail or radio. Even if reporters could somehow escape the censor, they knew they would be expelled immediately if they violated the rules.[26] But most insidious of all, Bolsheviks controlled journalists by sowing seeds of distrust in their work. A garbled message or a fake story could cast a journalist as a Bolshevik and thus a persona non grata in his or her own nation.[27]

But undeterred by Martens’s refusal to issue her a visa, Harrison journeyed to Poland, laying a trail of newspaper stories as she went. In February 1920, she secretly crossed the border into Russia. Traveling by sleigh and train, she arrived in Moscow, where she presented herself to somewhat surprised Bolshevik authorities telling them she was an American journalist who was sympathetic to Socialism and eager to report the truth about conditions in Russia.[28]

Harrison did not realize, however, that the Russian secret police agency, Cheka, knew she was a spy. The Reds probably had been tipped off by Socialists in Switzerland, through which she had passed on her way to Russia. The Bolsheviks allowed Harrison to remain in the country and provided her unprecedented access to reports that flowed into the Foreign Office. Then, early in April 1920, Cheka dropped its net, arresting Harrison on charges of espionage. Confronting her with irrefutable evidence of her spy work, including copies of dispatches she had sent to the U.S. State department, Cheka pressed Harrison into service as a double agent and forced her to give reports on foreigners in Moscow.[29]

MID soon learned that Harrison had been caught, but American officials could do little except hold to the slim hope that the Associated Press could rescue her by demanding her release. Collins cabled the Russian Foreign Office seeking to recall his correspondent, but his message was ignored. [30]

For six months, Harrison continued to smuggle reports to U.S. intelligence agencies through friendly aid workers and businessmen while at the same time providing information to the Cheka on foreigners who visited Russia, primarily Socialists, but also other journalists, including Stan Harding, a Socialist-leaning woman whom Harrison said was a British spy.[31] Then in October, Cheka became dissatisfied with Harrison’s work and arrested her. She spent almost a year in Russia’s notorious Lubyanka Prison before her health failed and she was transferred to a prison hospital. There she was held until July 30, 1921, when she was released in exchange for American food aid to Russia.

Arriving in Riga, Latvia, a few days after her release, Harrison dictated a report “of great value” giving her assessment of conditions in Russia. In the twelve-page document, Harrison asserted that the Communists were firmly entrenched in power and argued that the United States should recognize Soviet Russia, partly to institute a passport system that would control the entry of Bolshevik agents into the United States. Her report included information on churches, schools, military movements she had observed as she was leaving Russia, and precise data on coal supplies, transportation costs, and the taxation system.[32]

A week later, Harrison provided additional information to the MID office in Berlin, including accounts of mass executions, which she had denied occurred in the statements she gave to newspapers. She also made it clear she would continue her espionage work and volunteered to keep an eye on Senator Joseph France, a Maryland Republican who had traveled to Russia to win her release. Harrison believed he had been fooled by Soviet propaganda and she offered to make a list of the material he carried through customs.[33]

A year later, Harrison’s espionage work was revealed when Stan Harding launched a public campaign demanding compensation for her wrongful imprisonment. At the time, Harrison was traveling through Asia, gathering intelligence information that she passed along to the State department on political and economic conditions in Japan, Korea, China and Mongolia. When Harrison entered the Far Eastern Republic, the Soviets caught her again and returned her to Lubyanka Prison, much to the embarrassment of American officials. This time, her family was able to use its connections to secure her release.[34]

Harrison continued to provide information to the Army and State department for several more years. She died in Baltimore in 1967 at the age of 88.[35]

Weston Burgess Estes

Weston B. Estes was an unusual person to charge with keeping state secrets. A dentist hailing from San Francisco, California, Estes passed bad checks and stole jewelry from a former girlfriend before eloping with a chorus girl. When he tried to divorce her, she accused him of domestic abuse and had him committed to an insane asylum for a morphine addiction. [36]

But war can redeem even the most incorrigible, and so when the United States entered World War I, Estes volunteered for the U.S. Army’s Dental Reserve Corps. In May 1918, he requested and received permission to enter the Military Intelligence Division. Stationed in New York, Estes apparently kept an eye on suspected radicals and draft dodgers. During this time, he seems to have become acquainted with John Reed. Records show Estes left the Army and MID in 1919, but he did not sever his ties with intelligence officers. When Estes departed for Russia in 1920, he carried with him letters of introduction to military attaches in the Baltic states and Scandinavia written by MID Director Marlborough Churchill.[37]

On his passport application, Estes stated that his intention was to pursue business interests and to “buy or take industrial films.”[38] He later told a gathering of physicians that he represented businessmen who wanted to know if the Western blockade was actually denying trade with American companies. As to the motion pictures, Estes said “there is a demand in this country for authentic information concerning those things which are going on in Soviet Russia.”[39]

Estes also he said was traveling at the behest of radicals in New York City who wanted to learn more about the triumphs of Communism in Soviet Russia.[40] Although Estes did have radical acquaintances whom he had met while working in New York, evidence points to other backers, including Herman M. Suter, a former member of the Creel Committee who had taken over management of the Washington Herald, a newspaper co-owned by Herbert Hoover.[41]

On January 16, 1920, Estes set sail from New York accompanied by photographer John Flick, who apparently was unaware of Estes’s intelligence connection. But Estes’ family knew. When the Bureau of Investigation launched an inquiry into the reason Estes was traveling to Russia, his family told agents he was on a secret assignment for the U.S. government.[42]

Historians have written about the intriguing possibility that Estes’s mission was to rescue John Reed, who himself may have been spying for the United States. At the time Estes departed New York, Reed was jailed in Finland after customs agents found him smuggled on a ship with false papers and diamonds.[43]

Some historians have speculated that Estes planned to win Reed’s release and travel with him to Russia, where they would stay briefly before returning to the United States. The plan was stymied when Finnish police cracked down on Communists agitators. Estes, who had become friends with Finnish radicals, fled to Estonia, but Reed remained in custody until he was tried, convicted, and expelled to Estonia, where Estes waited. Reed traveled on to Russia, but Estes and Flick stayed behind awaiting visas.[44]

While in Estonia, Estes sent a long article to Marlborough Churchill, asking him to pass the piece on to Suter at the Washington Herald. Based upon translations of Russian newspapers, the article provided information on economic conditions in Russia, including the numbers of disabled locomotives and steamships, coal production and factory employment. Estes promised he would send Churchill more such articles. He went on to explain his efforts to win Reed’s freedom from the Finnish jail and to acquire for him a false passport. Estes reported to Churchill contacts he had made among the radicals and assured him of his intent to enter Russia if at all possible.[45]

Eventually, Reed used his connections with Bolshevik leaders to secure permission for Estes and Flick to proceed to Russia. They entered the country on August 2, 1920, and four days later arrived in Moscow. That same evening, they were arrested on suspicion of espionage.[46]

If Estes had been sent to rescue Reed, it was now Reed who tried to save Estes, arguing for his release and acting as his interpreter during his first interrogation in Lubyanka. Reed’s work was in vain. Estes and Flick were separated and subjected to repeated interrogations. Flick later told intelligence officers that the Russians believed he and Estes had come to rescue Reed, who would die weeks later of typhus.[47] Estes recounted that the Bolsheviks pressed him to give up the names of other agents and threatened him with execution if he did not comply. Estes later told officials that an apparent leak inside the Military Intelligence Division had provided Russian security officials with his photo even before he arrived. He suspected that an Ohio businessman named Barnett Bobroff, who had a brother in the Russian government, played a role in his capture.[48] Another person may have been to blame, however. Harrison’s Russian prison file shows that she told her interrogators that Estes was pretending to be Washington reporter, but was an American spy.[49]

Cheka kept Estes for three months in solitary confinement and interrogated him twenty-three times. Months of imprisonment in the cold, dirty cell with inadequate food took their toll. Estes suffered from dysentery and fevers until the Bolsheviks transferred him to a hospital. Doctors wanted to operate on him, but he refused, fearing he would never survive. “Prison life in Russia is a constant ‘Hell’ for everybody,” he wrote.[50]

Flick and Estes were released on August 6, 1921, exactly a year after their arrest. Little is known about Estes after he returned to the United States. In late September 1921, he visited Marguerite Harrison in Baltimore while on his way to Washington. According to the Baltimore Sun, Estes wanted to thank her for saving his life by sending him food packages. [51] That seems unlikely, however. In a letter he wrote shortly before his release, Estes told Red Cross officials that he had received his first aid package in June 1921. By then, Harrison was already in prison.[52]

The last known record of Estes is an open letter he addressed to New York Governor Alfred Smith that was published in the Rochester, New York, Democrat and Chronicle on February 14, 1924, protesting the pardon of Irish Socialist Jim Larkin. Estes argued that “there can be no greater crime against law and order, or against society than is embraced in a definition of what is essentially treason.” Estes wrote that while imprisoned in Russia, Cheka officials demanded he write letters to the American government seeking Larkin’s release, but he refused.[53]

After that, Estes disappears from the historical record, and no traces of him are found in newspaper archives or census documents.

Albert Boni

Weston Estes and Marguerite Harrison pretended to be sympathetic to Socialism in order to persuade the Reds to allow them to enter Russia. Albert Boni, however, truly was a Socialist who wanted to see the Russian experiment first hand. And unlike Estes and Harrison who were on the Military Intelligence Division’s payroll, Boni had a more informal arrangement with the spy agency. When the Bolsheviks arrested Boni in July 1920, he told them he was attempting to gather information on counterfeit currency for the Military Intelligence Division. MID officials, however, adamantly denied that he worked for them, and the Russians inexplicably released him.

Boni’s work on behalf of Socialism may have saved him. The son of Russian-Jewish immigrants, Boni was born in New York on October 21, 1892, and grew up in Newark, New Jersey, where at sixteen he became secretary of the local Socialist Party. After studying a year at Cornell and two years at Harvard, Boni left college and opened a bookstore with his brother in Greenwich Village in 1913. Three years later, he teamed up with Horace Liveright to create the Modern Library. Boni and Liveright were publishers of a number of left-leaning and radical authors, including Leon Trotsky.[54]

Given his enthusiasm for Socialism, it was not surprising that Boni wanted to witness the revolution in Russia. In the summer of 1919, he approached Sydney Friede, a former MID agent turned New York businessman. According to Friede, Boni was looking for a way to improve relations between the United States and Russia. Friede was unsure whether Boni was acting at the behest of Soviet officials or simply seeking a business partnership with Friede, who had once lived in Russia.[55]

In 1919, Boni and his wife traveled to Holland to obtain rights to Kaiser Wilhelm’s memoir for the McClure’s Syndicate. While abroad, he tried to go to Russia with Marxist revolutionary Karl Radek, but Boni was unable to secure a visa. Boni then proceeded to Berlin. During his wanderings, American agents kept close watch. The military observer in Berlin, Colonel Edward Davis, reported in January 1920 that Boni was staying at the Adlon Hotel and speculated that the publisher might be working as an intermediary between European Bolsheviks and America.[56] That spring, both Marlborough Churchill and J. Edgar Hoover suggested monitoring Boni’s correspondences with Bolshevik agitators.[57]

In early 1920, Boni asked the American embassy for passport assistance in traveling to the Baltics. According to Col. Edward Davis, Boni offered to gather information for the Military Intelligence Division. “I told him there was nothing special we desired,” Davis later wrote his superiors in Washington. “I sized him up as a man that could not be trusted with any of our affairs.” Nevertheless, Davis acknowledged that he had told Boni about the Army’s concern over counterfeit American money that was circulating in Russia. No one had been able to obtain any samples and Davis told Boni “that if he acquired any of it I would be glad to get it.”[58]

With unspecified assistance from the U.S. embassy in Berlin, Boni traveled to Estonia on June 23, 1920. His Socialist contacts helped Boni secure a visa and he entered Russia two days later. Boni later said he traveled to Russia for business reasons and most newspaper accounts of his imprisonment reported that he had gone to pursue book deals.[59] But Military Intelligence Division records, including the statement Boni gave when he was freed, described him as a correspondent for the New York Sun.[60]

Boni at last was in the country he had longed to see and meeting with Bolshevik revolutionaries, including Vladimir Lenin. But Boni soon ran into trouble. By his own account, he asked too many questions. One of his queries pertained to Stan Harding, the British journalist whom Marguerite Harrison had denounced as spy. Harrison told Boni that Harding had been arrested, but Boni persisted in asking Russian authorities about the welfare of the British journalist. Meanwhile, his disillusionment with Russia grew. He saw long lines of desperate Muscovites standing outside stores for food and clothing. He witnessed the corruption of the black market that thrived in the city.[61] His friends Karl Radek and John Reed had secured for him permission to attend sessions of the Third International Congress, but after a few weeks the Bolsheviks began to doubt the sincerity of Boni’s commitment to Communism.[62]

Four weeks after entering Russia, Cheka arrested Boni on suspicion of espionage. He quickly admitted to working for the Military Intelligence Division’s Berlin outpost, a confession that was widely reported in American newspapers.

Davis told his superiors that Boni lied about his work for MID in hopes the Bolsheviks would spare his life if he could provide them information about American spy operations. Davis was scathing in his condemnation of Boni, calling him a “sitting-room Bolshevik” and saying that “he is a weak character of acute but unsubstantial mentality that he will lie, in a pinch and that he is of no special consequence in his present stage of development.”[63] The military observer in Riga, Latvia, Major T.W. Hollyday, was more measured in his assessment of Boni. Writing after Boni’s capture, Hollyday said he did not believe the publisher “is in sympathy with Communism or Bolshevism but that he is trying to secure information on real conditions in Russia in order to publish a book.”[64]

Boni spent six weeks in solitary confinement and seven more weeks in internment camps until his wife and friendly Socialists persuaded the Bolsheviks to release him.

Arriving in Reval, Estonia, in late October 1921, Boni gave American Consul Charles Albrecht an account of the Americans held prisoner and his impression of the Congress of the Third International, which he called “a joke.” He continued with his assessment of political conditions in Russia and noted the growing power of the secret police.[65]

Boni, once an ardent supporter of Bolshevik Russia, had become thoroughly disillusioned with the regime. He did not give up on Socialism, however. He returned to America where he and his brother founded a new publishing house whose works included Max Eastmann’s Breaking Through Marx and Lenin: The Science of Revolution and Trotsky’s History of Russian Revolution. In the 1930s, Boni’s interest turned to photography and micro printing. He died on July 31, 1981, at age 88.[66]

Condemnation and Concern

The clandestine activities of American journalists in Russia were mostly refuted and ignored until 1922, when British journalist Stan Harding began a highly public campaign to win compensation for the hardships she had endured in the Russian prison as a result of Marguerite Harrison’s betrayal. An American intelligence officer offered Harding money in exchange for her silence, which outraged the British woman even more. She demanded a public apology for a system that had led an American agent to denounce an innocent journalist.[67]

Newspapers, meanwhile, picked up on the theme of journalism ethics and stressed the evil of allowing intelligence agents to pose as journalists. “An ugly blow at honesty and independence in journalism was struck by the combination of secret agent and special correspondent which some ill-advised American authorities evolved,” the editors of the Manchester Guardian wrote. “But the main thing is the light thrown on this case should make the vicious experiment impossible of repetition.”[68] Editor and Publisher demanded answers to Harding’s allegations for the sake of the “honor of the American journalistic profession.”[69] For her part, Harrison stuck to her allegation that Harding had been a spy. In 1938, Harrison’s publisher was forced to pay Harding five thousand dollars to settle a libel suit.[70]

In April 1923, the newly formed American Society of Newspaper Editors adopted the first national code of ethics, calling for journalists to refute propaganda and to act in the public interest. Included in its “Canon of Journalism” was the assertion that journalists must be free “from all obligations except that of fidelity to the public interest.”[71] With an increased focus on professionalism, journalists embraced ideals of objectivity and truth against a rising concern over public relations and propaganda. The journalists who gathered at the first ASNE meeting understood that their credibility was on the line.

Nevertheless, the cooperation between journalists and American intelligence services did not end. The Military Intelligence Division disbanded, but its successors, including the Central Intelligence Agency, continued to employ journalists to aid foreign operations and to use news organizations to provide cover for agents.

Following the Church Committee investigation in 1976, CIA Director Admiral Stansfield Turner issued a policy directive against employing journalists or using American news organizations as cover. Nevertheless, the practice continued, as CIA Director John Deutch disclosed before a Senate committee hearing in 1996.[72] The use of journalists as spies was too valuable a tool to abandon entirely. The newspaper spies in Bolshevik Russia set the precedent. Admittedly, their missions were not entirely successful. Weston Estes was unable to rescue John Reed. Albert Boni apparently returned with no samples of counterfeit money. And in trying to account for missing American spies, Marguerite Harrison was trapped into working as a double agent and embroiled in an international scandal. All three were captured and imprisoned. Yet each left Russia with valuable information on the political, economic, and social conditions inside a country that was cloistered in mystery. Their work, along with that of unknown agents who were never revealed, gave impetus to the continued use of journalists in American spy operations.

[1]James L. Gilbert, World War I and the Origins of the U.S. Military Intelligence (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2012), 11.

[3]Michael Schudson, Discovering the News: A Social History of American Newspapers (New York: Basic Books, 1978), 121–123.

[4]Stephen J. A. Ward, The Invention of Journalism Ethics: The Path to Objectivity and Beyond (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2004), 214–215.

[5]David Greenberg, Republic of Spin: An Inside History of the American Presidency (New York: W.W. Norton, 2016), 107–111.

[6]Thomas M. Johnson, Our Secret War: True American Spy Stories, 1917-1919 (Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1929), 23.

[8]Marguerite Harrison, There’s Always Tomorrow: The Story of a Checkered Life (New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1935), 90–95.

[9]Harold A. Williams, The Baltimore Sun, 18371987 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987), 157–158.

[13]Major General Ralph H. Van Deman, The Final Memoranda, ed. Ralph E. Weber (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources Imprint, 1988), 84–85.

[15]Ishbel Ross, Ladies of the Press: The Story of Women in Journalism by an Insider (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1936), 110–112.

[16]Emmett Crozer, American Reporters on the Western Front, 1914-1918 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959), 151–155.

[17]Oliver Gramling, AP: The Story of News (Port Washington, N.Y.: Kennikat Press, 1940), 290–291.

[19]David S. Foglesong, America’s Secret War Against Bolshevism (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1995), 114–125.

[20]Office of MID, Customhouse, NY, to Acting Director of Military Intelligence Division, March 6, 1919, File 10297-331, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, Box 607, National Archives at College Park, MD Marlborough Churchill to Assistant Chief of Staff, May 16, 1919, File 10297-331, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, Box 607, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[21]From Director of Military Intelligence to Military Attaché, Warsaw, Poland, Oct. 22, 1919 Marlborough Churchill to Edward Davis, Sept. 2, 1919, and Edward Davis to Washington, September 25, 1919 Sherman Miles, Military Intelligence Division General Staff to Military Attaché American Embassy, Paris, Oct. 22, 1919 in File PF-39205, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, Box 607, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[24]Robert Collins to Marguerite Harrison, Nov. 12, 1919, in Marguerite Harrison File, P-47767, Russian Federal Security Bureau Archive, Moscow, Russia.

[26]Francis McCullagh, A Prisoner of the Reds: A Story of a British Officer Captured in Siberia (New York: E.P. Dutton and Company, 1922), 233–247.

[30]Hurley to Winslow, May 15, 1920, Oscar Solbert to Washington, May 27, 1920, File PF-32905, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, Box 607, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[31]Marguerite Harrison File, P-47767, Russian Federal Security Bureau Archive, Moscow, Russia.

[32]Report 1807 dictated by “B” to T. Worthington Holliday, Aug. 2, 1921, File 2070-2117, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, microfilm 1443, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[33] Report 2190, “Russia: Current Conditions By B,” Aug. 10, 1921, File 2070-2117, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, microfilm 1443, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[34]Harrison, 540-542 Joseph Ames to Dewitt Poole, Feb. 25, 1923, File 316.112 Marguerite Harrison File, RG 59, Department of State Decimal File, 1910-1929, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[35]“Mrs. A.M. Blake, Journalist, Dies,” Baltimore Sun, July 17, 1967, C16.

[36]“Miss Wadham Wants Her Property Back,” San Francisco Call, Nov. 12, 1901, 12 “Pretty Chorus Girl Says She Was Cruelly Treated,” San Francisco Examiner, Dec. 14, 1904, 11 “Denies Decree to Dr. Estes,” San Francisco Call, Dec. 30, 1904, 16.

[37] T.C. Cooke to Gen. Coxe, July 23, 1920, File 237-23, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[38] “United States Passport Applications, 1795-1925,” database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QV5B-89HN : 16 March 2018), Neston[sic] Burgess Estes, 1920 from Passport Application, New York, United States, source certificate #158457, Passport Applications, January 2, 1906 – March 31, 1925, M1490 and M1372, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[39]Dr. Weston B. Estes, “Russian Experiences,” Long Island Medical Journal, 15, no. 12 (Dec. 1921): 410.

[41] “Announcement,” The Washington Herald, Dec. 8, 1919, 1 Richard B. Spence, “John Reed, “American Spy? Reed, American Intelligence, and Weston Estes’ 1920 Mission to Russia,” American Communist History, 13, No. 1, (2014): 54. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14743892.2014.896642.

[42]W.B. Esles [sic]-Europe-Radical Matter, Nov. 4, 1920, Bureau of Investigation file 202600-183, National Archives, College Park, MD.

[45]Weston B. Estes to Marlborough Churchill, June 10, 1920, file 207-23, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[47] Statement of John Flick, Bolshevism—Negative, Aug.15 1921, File 2070-2119/12, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, microfilm 1443, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[48]Statement of William [sic] Estes, Bolshevism—Negative, Aug.15 1921, File 2070-2119/9, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, microfilm 1443, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[49]Marguerite Harrison File, P-47767, Russian Federal Security Bureau Archive, Moscow, Russia.

[50]Dr. Weston B. Estes to Director of American Red Cross, Riga, Latvia, July 7, 1921, File 164-331, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[51] “Says He Owes His Life to Baltimore Woman,” Baltimore Sun, Sept. 26, 1921, 18.

[52] Estes to Director of American Red Cross, July 7, 1921.

[53] Weston B. Estes, “Open Letter to Governor Smith,” Rochester (N.Y.) Democrat and Chronicle, Feb. 14, 1923, 13.

[54]August A. Imholtz Jr., “Albert Boni: A Sketch of a Life in Micro-Opaque,” Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society, Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society, “From Microprint to Megapixels: The Fifty-Year Partnership Between Readex and the American Antiquarian Society,” 115, part 2, (2006) 253–273.

[55] Office of MID, New York, to Director of Military Intelligence Division, July 17, 1919, file 10110-1334, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[56]Bolshevism in the Ukraine, Jan. 15, 1920, file 214-53/27, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[57]J. Edgar Hoover to Col. A.B. Coxe, May 20, 1920, file 10110-1656/32 RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[58]Col. Davis to Director of Military Intelligence, Feb. 2, 1921, file 10110-1344/19, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[59]“Persistent Wife Frees Him from Russian Prison,” Chicago Tribune, Nov 25, 1921, 1.

[60]“Conditions in Soviet Russia, Statement by Albert Boni,” Nov. 8, 1920, file 1011-1344/10, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[61]Albert Boni, “Soviets Use Terrorism to Combat Fears of People,” Globe and Commercial Advertiser (New York, NY), Jan. 18, 1921, 4.

[62]Albert Boni, “Communists Ruling Russia Absolutely, Boni Learns,” The Globe and Commercial Advertiser (New York, NY), Jan. 11, 1921, 4.

[63] Col. Davis to Director of Military Intelligence, Feb. 2, 1921, file 10110-1344/19, RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[64] T.W. Hollyday to Director of Military Intelligence, Sept. 9, 1920. PF 50137/24. RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[65]“Conditions in Soviet Russia,” Nov. 2, 1920, file 10110-1344/10 RG 165 (War Department General Staff), Military Intelligence Division, National Archives at College Park, MD.

[67]Stan Harding, Underworld of State (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1925), 204–205.

[68]“An Unhappy Incident,” Manchester Guardian, May 7, 1923, 1.

[69]Herbert C. Ridout, “British Journalists Are Stirred up by Mrs. Stan Harding Charges,” Editor and Publisher, Sept. 23, 1922, 14.

[70]“Former Baltimoreans Book Made Grounds for Libel Suit,” Baltimore Sun, April 21, 1938, 26.

[71]“A Newspaper Code,” New York Times, April 29, 1923, 2.

[72]CIA’s Use of Journalists and Clergy in Intelligence Operations, Hearing Before The

Select Committee On Intelligence of the United States Senate, 104 th Cong. 6-9 (1996) (statement of John M. Deutch).


Xenophon Kalamatiano - History

Index to Intelligence and National Security

A[ndrew], C[hristopher] M. (ed.), Gordon Welchman, Sir Peter Marychurch and ‘The Birth of Ultra’: 1(2) 272
Aid, Matthew M., American Comint in the Korean War (Part II): From the Chinese Intervention to the Armistice: 15(1) 14
Aid, Matthew M., The Time of Troubles: The US National Security Agency in the Twenty–First Century: 15(3) 1
Aid, Matthew M., US Humint and Comint in the Korean War: From the Approach of War to the Chinese Intervention: 14(4) 17
Aldrich, Richard and Michael Coleman, The Cold War, the JIC and British Signals Intelligence, 1948: 4(3) 535
Aldrich, Richard J., American Intelligence and the British Raj: The OSS, the SSU and India, 1942–1947: 13(1) 132
Aldrich, Richard J., Conspiracy or Confusion? Churchill, Roosevelt and Pearl Harbor (Review Article): 7(4) 335
Aldrich, Richard J., Gary D. Rawnsley and MingYeh T. Rawnsley, Introduction: The Clandestine Cold War in Asia, 1945–65: 14(4) 1
Aldrich, Richard J., Intelligence, Anglo–American Relations and the Suez Crisis, 1956 (Review Article): 9(3) 544
Aldrich, Richard J., Legacies of Secret Service: Renegade SOE and the Karen Struggle in Burma, 1948–50: 14(4) 130
Aldrich, Richard J., The Waldegrave Initiative and Secret Service Archives: New Materials and New Policies (Review Article): 10(1) 192
Aldrich, Richard, Imperial Rivalry: British and American Intelligence in Asia, 1942–46: 3(1) 5
Aldrich, Richard, Soviet Intelligence, British Security and the End of the Red Orchestra: The Fate of Alexander Rado: 6(1) 196
Aldrich, Richard, More on Stalin’s Men: Some Recent Western Studies of Soviet Intelligence (Review Essay): 11(3) 593
Alexander, Martin S., and William J. Philpott, The Entente Cordiale and the Next War: Anglo–French Views on Future Military Co–operation, 1928–1939: 13(1) 53
Alexander, Martin S., Did the Deuxième Bureau Work? The Role of Intelligence in French Defence Policy and Strategy, 1919–39: 6(2) 293
Alexander, Martin S., Introduction: Knowing Your Friends, Assessing Your Allies – Perspectives on Intra–Alliance Intelligence: 13(1) 1
Allen, Louis, Burmese Puzzles: Two Deaths that Never Were: 5(1) 193
Alvarez, David, A German Agent at the Vatican: The Gerlach Affair: 11(2) 345
Alvarez, David, American Signals Intelligence and the Cuban Missile Crisis: 15(1) 169
Alvarez, David, Axis Sigint Collaboration: A Limited Partnership: 14(1) 1
Alvarez, David, Behind Venona: American Signals Intelligence in the Early Cold War: 14(2) 179
Alvarez, David, No Immunity: Signals Intelligence and the European Neutrals, 1939–45: 12(2) 22
Alvarez, David, Vatican Communications Security, 1914–18: 7(4) 443
Alvarez, David, Vatican Intelligence Capabilities in the Second World War: 6(3) 593
Amuchastegui, Domingo, Cuban Intelligence and the October Crisis: 13(3) 88
Anderson, Scott, ‘With Friends Like These . ’ The OSS and the British in Yugoslavia: 8(2) 140
Anderson, Scott, The Evolution of the Canadian Intelligence Establishment, 1945–1950: 9(3) 448
Andrew, Christopher and Keith Neilson, Tsarist Codebreakers and British Codes: 1(1) 6
Andrew, Christopher and Oleg Gordievsky, More ‘Instructions from the Centre’: Top Secret Files on KGB Global Operations, 1975–1985 (Special Issue): 7(1) 1
Andrew, Christopher, American Presidents and their Intelligence Communities: 10(4) 95
Andrew, Christopher, Churchill and Intelligence: 3(3) 181
Andrew, Christopher, Codebreaking and Signals Intelligence: 1(1) 1
Andrew, Christopher, Conclusion: An Agenda for Future Research: 12(1) 224
Andrew, Christopher, KGB Foreign Intelligence from Brezhnev to the Coup: 8(3) 52
Andrew, Christopher, see also A[ndrew], C[hristopher] M.
Andrew, Christopher, The Growth of the Australian Intelligence Community and the Anglo–American Connection: 4(2) 213
Angevine, Robert G., Gentlemen Do Read Each Other’s Mail: American Intelligence in the Interwar Era: 7(2) 1
Archdeacon, Maurice, The Heritage Front Affair: 11(2) 306
Armour, Ian D., Colonel Redl: Fact and Fantasy: 2(1) 170
Aronsen, Lawrence R., Some Aspects of Surveillance: ‘Peace, Order and Good Government’ during the Cold War: The Origins and Organization of Canada’s Internal Security Program: 1(3) 357
Austin, Roger, Surveillance and Intelligence under the Vichy regime: The Service du Contrôle Technique, 1939–45: 1(1) 123
Avery, Donald, Allied Scientific Co–operation and Soviet Espionage in Canada, 1941–45: 8(3) 100

Backscheider, Paula R., Daniel Defoe and Early Modern Intelligence: 11(1) 1
Bailey, Roderick, OSS–SOE Relations, Albania 1943–44: 15(2) 20
Ball, Desmond and Robert Windrem, Soviet Signals Intelligence (Sigint): Organization and Management: 4(4) 621
Ball, Desmond, Over and Out: Signals Intelligence (Sigint) in Hong Kong: 11(3) 474
Ball, Desmond, Signals Intelligence in India: 10(3) 377
Ball, Desmond, Soviet Signals Intelligence: Vehicular Systems and Operations: 4(1) 5
BarJoseph, Uri, The Wealth of Information and the Poverty of Comprehension: Israel’s Intelligence Failure of 1973 Revisited (Review Article): 10 (4) 229
BarJoseph, Uri, Methodological Magic (Review Article): 3(4) 134
Barnett, Harvey, Legislation–based National Security Services: Australia: 9(2) 287
Barros, Andrew, A Window on the ‘Trust’: The Case of Ado Birk: 10(2) 273
Beckett, Ian F. W., A Note on Government Surveillance and Intelligence during the Curragh Incident, March 1914: 1(3) 435
Beesly, Patrick, Convoy PQ 17: A Study of Intelligence and Decision–Making: 5(2) 292
BenZvi, Abraham, The Dynamics of Surprise: The Defender’s Perspective: 12(4) 113
BenIsrael, Isaac, Philosophy and Methodology of Intelligence: The Logic of Estimate Process: 4(4) 660
Bennett, Ralph, A Footnote to Fortitude: 6(1) 240
Bennett, Ralph, Fortitude, Ultra and the ‘Need to Know’: 4(3) 482
Bennett, Ralph, Intelligence and Strategy: Some Observations on the War in the Mediterranean, 1941–45: 5(2) 444
Bennett, Ralph, Sir William Deakin, Sir David Hunt and Sir Peter Wilkinson, Mihailovic and Tito: 10(3) 526
Bennett, Ralph, The ‘Vienna Alternative’, 1944: Reality or Illusion?: 3(2) 251
Berridge, G. R., The Ethnic ‘Agent in Place’: English–speaking Civil Servants and Nationalist South Africa, 1948–57: 4(2) 257
Best, Antony, ‘This Probably Over–Valued Military Power’: British Intelligence and Whitehall’s Perception of Japan, 1939–41: 12(3) 67
Best, Antony, Constructing an Image: British Intelligence and Whitehall’s Perception of Japan, 1931–1939: 11(3) 403
Betts, Richard K., Policy–makers and Intelligence Analysts: Love, Hate or Indifference?: 3(1) 184
Biddiscombe, Perry, Operation Selection Board: The Growth and Suppression of the Neo–Nazi ‘Deutsche Revolution’, 1945–47: 11(1) 59
Biddiscombe, Perry, The Problem with Glass Houses: The Soviet Recruitment and Deployment of SS Men as Spies and Saboteurs: 15(3) 131
Bitar, Mona, Bombs, Plots and Allies: Cambodia and the Western Powers, 1958–59: 14(4) 149
Black, Ian, The Origins of Israeli Intelligence (Review Article): 2(4) 151
Black, Jeremy, British Intelligence and the Mid–Eighteenth–Century Crisis: 2(2) 209
Blais, J. J., The Political Accountability of Intelligence Agencies – Canada: 4(1) 108
Blight, James G. and David A. Welch, The Cuban Missile Crisis and Intelligence Performance: 13(3) 173
Blight, James G. and David A. Welch, What can Intelligence tell us about the Cuban Missile Crisis, and what can the Cuban Missile Crisis tell us about Intelligence?: 13(3) 1
Bold, Christine, Secret Negotiations: The Spy Figure in Nineteenth–century American Popular Fiction: 5(4) 17
Bonen, Z., The Role of Target Acquisitions in Combat Intelligence Past and Future: 4(1) 119
Boog, Horst, German Air Intelligence in the Second World War: 5(2) 350
Boog, Horst, Josephine and the Northern Flank: 4(1) 137
Booth, Alan R., The Development of the Espionage Film: 5(4) 136
Boyd, Carl, Significance of MAGIC and the Japanese Ambassador to Berlin: (I) The Formative Months Before Pearl Harbor: 2(1) 150
Boyd, Carl, Significance of MAGIC and the Japanese Ambassador to Berlin: (II) The Crucial Months After Pearl Harbor: 2(2) 302
Boyd, Carl, The Significance of MAGIC and the Japanese Ambassador to Berlin: (III) The Months of Growing Uncertainty: 3(4) 83
Boyd, Carl, Significance of MAGIC and the Japanese Ambassador to Berlin (IV): Confirming the Turn of the Tide on the German–Soviet Front: 4(1) 86
Boyd, Carl, Significance of MAGIC and the Japanese Ambassador to Berlin: (V) News of Hitler’s Defense Preparations for Allied Invasion of Western Europe: 4(3) 461
Brady, Christopher, Intelligence Failures: Plus Ça Change …: 8(4) 86
Briggs, B. Bruce, Another Ride on Tricycle: 7(2) 77
Brown, Kathryn R., An Approach to the Interplay of Information and Mind in Decision–Making: The Case of Signals Intelligence and Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Policy–Shift on Indochina: 13(1) 109
Brown, Kathryn, Intelligence and the Decision to Collect It: Churchill’s Wartime Diplomatic Signals Intelligence: 10(3) 449
Budiansky, Stephen, The Difficult Beginnings of US–British Codebreaking Co–operation: 15(2) 49
Bull, Martin, Villains of the Peace: Terrorism and the Secret Services in Italy (Review Article): 7(4) 473
Bungert, Heike, The OSS and Its Cooperation with the Free Germany Committees, 1944–45: 12(3) 130
Burke, Colin, Automating American Cryptanalysis 1930–45: Marvelous Machines, a Bit Too Late: 14(1) 18
Burke, James F., Recently Released Material on Soviet Intelligence Operations (Research Note): 8(2) 238
Burke, James F., Romanian and Soviet Intelligence in the December Revolution: 8(4) 26
Buse, Dieter K., Domestic Intelligence and German Military Leaders, 1914–18: 15(4) 42

Cain, Frank, Intelligence Writings in Australia (Review Article): 6(1) 242
Cain, Frank, Missiles and Mistrust: US Intelligence Responses to British and Australian Missile Research: 3(4) 5
Cain, Frank, Signals Intelligence in Australia during the Pacific War: 14(1) 40
Cain, Frank, The Right to Know: ASIO, Historians and the Australian Parliament (Research Note): 8(1) 87
Campbell, John P., Operation Starkey 1943: A Piece of Harmless Playacting: 2(3) 92
Campbell, John P., Roger Hesketh and the de Guingand Letter: 15(4) 131
Campbell, John P., Some Pieces of the Ostro Puzzle: 11(2) 245
Cecil, Robert, ‘C’’s War: 1(2) 170
Cecil, Robert, Five of Six at War: Section V of MI6: 9(2) 345
Cecil, Robert, Philby’s Spurious War (Review Article): 9(4) 764
Champion, Brian, A Review of Selected Cases of Industrial Espionage and Economic Spying, 1568–1945: 13(2) 123
Chapman, J. W. M., No Final Solution: A Survey of the Cryptanalytical Capabilities of German Military Agencies, 1926–35: 1(1) 13
Chapman, John W. M., Pearl Harbor: The Anglo–Australian Dimension: 4(3) 451
Chapman, John W. M., Tricycle Recycled: Collaboration among the Secret Intelligence Services of the Axis States, 1940–41: 7(3) 268
Charles, Douglas, American, British and Canadian Intelligence Links: A Critical Annotated Bibliography: 15(2) 259
Charters, David A., Eyes of the Underground: Jewish Insurgent Intelligence in Palestine, 1945–47: 13(4) 163
Charters, David A., British Intelligence in the Palestine Campaign, 1945–47: 6(1) 115
Child, Clifton J., In Defence of ‘Tom’ Delmer and Dr Otto John: Notes for the Record: 4(1) 127
Christensen, Charles R., An Assessment of General Hoyt S. Vandenberg’s Accomplishments as Director of Central Intelligence: 11(4) 754
Clemens, Peter, Operation ‘Cardinal’: The OSS in Manchuria, August 1945: 13(4) 71
Clive, Nigel, From War to Peace in SIS: 10(3) 512
Cogan, Charles G., From the Politics of Lying to the Farce at Suez: What the US Knew: 13(2) 100
Cogan, Charles G., Intelligence and Crisis Management: The Importance of the Pre–Crisis: 9(4) 633
Cogan, Charles G., The In–Culture of the DO: 8(1) 78
Cogan, Charles G., The Response of the Strong to the Weak: The American Raid on Libya, 1986: 6(3) 608
Cogan, Charles G., Historical Flukes: US Intelligence at the Crossroads (Review Article): 11(2) 374
Cogan, Charles G., In the Shadow of Venona (Review Article): 12(3) 190
Cohen, Eliot A., ‘Only Half the Battle’: American Intelligence and the Chinese Intervention in Korea, 1950: 5(1) 129
Cohen, Paul, The Police, the Home Office and Surveillance of the British Union of Fascists: 1(3) 416
Cohen, Raymond, Israeli Military Intelligence before the 1956 Sinai Campaign: 3(1) 100
Cohen, Raymond, Threat Assessment in Military Intelligence: The Case of Israel and Syria, 1985–86: 4(4) 735
Cole, Benjamin, British Technical Intelligence and the Soviet Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile Threat, 1952–1960: 14(2) 70
Coox, Alvin D., Flawed Perception and its Effect upon Operational Thinking: The Case of the Japanese Army, 1937–41: 5(2) 239
Cox, Sebastian, ‘The Difference between White and Black’: Churchill, Imperial Politics and Intelligence before the 1941 Crusader Offensive: 9(3) 405
Cox, Sebastian, A Comparative Analysis of RAF and Luftwaffe Intelligence in the Battle of Britain, 1940: 5(2) 425
Craig, Bruce, A Matter of Espionage: Alger Hiss, Harry Dexter White, and Igor Gouzenko – The Canadian Connection Reassessed: 15(2) 211
Creevy, Mathew, A Critical Review of the Wilson Government’s Handling of the D–Notice Affair of 1967: 14(3) 209
Croft, John, Reminiscences of GCHQ and GCB, 1942–45: 13(4) 133
Cubbage II, T. L., German Misapprehensions Regarding Overlord: Understanding Failure in the Estimative Process: 2(3) 114
Cubbage II, T. L., The Success of Operation Fortitude: Hesketh’s History of Strategic Deception: 2(3) 327
Cubbage II, T. L., Westmoreland vs. CBS: Was Intelligence Corrupted by Policy Demands?: 3(3) 118
CurrerBriggs, Noel, Some of Ultra’s Poor Relations in Algeria, Tunisia, Sicily and Italy: 2(2) 274

Dalby, Simon, Security, Intelligence, the National Interest in the Global Environment: 10(4) 175
Davies, Philip H. J., British Intelligence from Fenian Dynamite to the Docklands Bomb, by Way of Two World Wars, one Cold War, and a Jungle Full of Snakes (Review Article): 13(4) 237
Davies, Philip H. J., From Special Operations to Special Political Action: The ‘Rump SOE’ and SIS Post–War Covert Action Capability 1945–1977: 15(3) 55
Davies, Philip H. J., The SIS Singapore Station and the SIS Far Eastern Controller: 14(4) 105
Davies, Philip H. J., Organisational Politics and the Development of Britain’s Intelligence Producers/Consumer Interface: 10(4) 113
Davies, Philip H. J., Intelligence Scholarship as All–Source Analysis: The Case of Tom Bower’s The Perfect English Spy (Review Article): 12(3) 201
de Graaff, Bob and Cees Wiebes, Intelligence and the Cold War behind the Dikes: The Relationship between the American and Dutch Intelligence Communities, 1946–1994: 12(1) 41
de Graaff, Bob, Accessibility of Secret Service Archives in the Netherlands (Research Note): 12(2) 154
de Graaff, Bob, The Stranded Baron and the Upstart at the Crossroads: Wolfgang zu Putlitz and Otto John: 6(4) 669
de Graaff, Bob, What Happened to the Central Personality Index?: 7(3) 317
Defty, Andrew, The Future of the British Intelligence Memoir (Review Article): 10(1) 184
Deletant, Dennis, The Securitate and the Police State in Romania, 1948–64: 8(4) 1
Deletant, Dennis, The Securitate and the Police State in Romania, 1964–89: 9(1) 22
Denniston, A. G., The Government Code and Cypher School Between the Wars: 1(1) 48
Denniston, Robin, Research Note: ‘Yanks to Lunch’ – An Early Glimpse of Anglo–American Signals Intelligence Co–operation, March 1941: 11(2) 357
Denniston, Robin, Diplomatic Eavesdropping, 1922–1944: A New Source Discovered: 10(3) 423
Denniston, Robin, Three Kinds of Hero: Publishing the Memoirs of Secret Intelligence People: 7(2) 112
Denniston, Robin, Yardley on Yap: 9(1) 112
Derian, James Der, Anti–Diplomacy, Intelligence Theory and Surveillance Practice: 8(3) 29
Dessants, Betty Abrahamsen, Ambivalent Allies: OSS’ USSR Division, the State Department, and the Bureaucracy of Intelligence Analysis, 1941–1945: 11(4) 722
Deutsch, Harold C., Commanding Generals and the Uses of Intelligence: 3(3) 194
Deutsch, Harold C., Sidelights on the Redl Case: Russian Intelligence on the Eve of the Great War: 4(4) 827
Deutsch, James I., ‘I Was a Hollywood Agent’: Cinematic Representations of the Office of Strategic Services in 1946: 13(2) 85
Doel, Ronald E., and Allan A. Needell, Silence, Scientists and the CIA: Balancing International Ideals, National Needs and Professional Opportunities: 12(1) 59
Doerr, Paul W., The Changkufeng/Lake Khasan Incident of 1938: British Intelligence on Soviet and Japanese Military Performance: 5(3) 184
Donovan, Michael, National Intelligence and the Iranian Revolution: 12(1) 143
Dorwart, Jeffery M., Citizens under Military Surveillance (Review Article): 8(2) 236
Dovey, H. O., Cheese: 5(3) 176
Dovey, H. O., Maunsell and Mure: 8(1) 60
Dovey, H. O., Operation Condor: 4(2) 357
Dovey, H. O., Security in Syria, 1941–45: 6(2) 418
Dovey, H. O., The False Going Map at Alam Halfa: 4(1) 165
Dovey, H. O., The House Near Paris: 11(2) 264
Dovey, H. O., The Intelligence War in Turkey: 9(1) 59
Dovey, H. O., The Middle East Intelligence Centre: 4(4) 800
Dovey, H. O., The Unknown War: Security in Italy, 1943–45: 3(2) 285
Dovey, Hugh O., The Eighth Assignment, 1941–1942: 11(4) 672
Dovey, H. O., The Eighth Assignment, 1943–1945: 12(2) 69
Dravis, Michael W., Storming Fortress Albania: American Covert Operations in Microcosm, 1949–54: 7(4) 425
Drea, Edward J., and Joseph E. Richard, New Evidence on Breaking the Japanese Army Codes: 14(1) 62
Drea, Edward J., Ultra and the American War Against Japan: A Note on Sources (Review Article): 3(1) 195
Drea, Edward J., Ultra Intelligence and General MacArthur’s Leap to Hollandia, January–April 1944: 5(2) 323

E[rskine], R[alph], In Memoriam: Joan E. L. Murray, MBE: 13(2) 213
Easter, David, British and Malaysian Covert Support for Rebel Movements in Indonesia during the ‘Confrontation’, 1963–66: 14(4) 195
Eftimiades, Nicholas, China’s Ministry of State Security: Coming of Age in the International Arena: 8(1) 23
Egerton, George, Diplomacy, Scandal and Military Intelligence: The Craufurd–Stuart Affair and Anglo–American Relations, 1918–20: 2(4) 110
Eldridge, Justin L. C., The Blarney Stone and the Rhine: 23rd Headquarters, Special Troops and the Rhine River Crossing, March 1945: 7(3) 211
Erskine, Ralph, Eavesdropping on ‘Bodden’: ISOS v. the Abwehr in the Straits of Gibraltar: 12(3) 110
Erskine, Ralph, Naval Enigma: An Astonishing Blunder: 11(3) 468
Erskine, Ralph, Naval Enigma: The Breaking of Heimisch and Triton: 3(1) 162
Erskine, Ralph, see also E[rskine], R[alph]
Erskine
, Ralph, The Holden Agreement on Naval Sigint: The First BRUSA?: 14(2) 187
Erskine, Ralph, The Soviets and Naval Enigma: Some Comments: 4(3) 503
Erskine, Ralph, U–Boats, Homing Signals and HFDF: 2(2) 324
Erskine, Ralph, When a Purple Machine went Missing: How Japan nearly Discovered America’s Greatest Secret (Research Note): 12(3) 185

Farson, Stuart, Parliament and its Servants: Their Role in Scrutinizing Canadian Intelligence: 15(2) 225
Fedorowich, Kent, Axis Prisoners of War as Sources for British Military Intelligence, 1939–42: 14(2) 156
Ferris, John and Uri BarJoseph, Getting Marlowe to Hold his Tongue: The Conservative Party, the Intelligence Services and the Zinoviev Letter: 8(4) 100
Ferris, John, and Michael I. Handel, Clausewitz, Intelligence, Uncertainty and the Art of Command in Military Operations: 10(1) 1
Ferris, John, From Broadway House to Bletchley Park: The Diary of Captain Malcolm Kennedy, 1934–46: 4(3) 421
Ferris, John, Ralph Bennett and the Study of Ultra (Review Article): 6(2) 473
Ferris, John, The ‘Usual Source’: Signals Intelligence and Planning for the Eighth Army ‘Crusader’ Offensive, 1941: 14(1) 84
Ferris, John, The British Army and Signals Intelligence in the Field during the First World War: 3(4) 23
Ferris, John, The British Army, Signals and Security in the Desert Campaign, 1940–42: 5(2) 255
Ferris, John, The Intelligence–Deception Complex: An Anatomy: 4(4) 719
Ferris, John, Whitehall’s Black Chamber: British Cryptology and the Government Code and Cypher School, 1919–29: 2(1) 54
Filby, P. W., Floradora and a Unique Break into One–Time Pad Ciphers: 10(3) 408
Filby, P. William, Bletchley Park and Berkeley Street: 3(2) 272
Fischer, Benjamin B., The 1980s Soviet War Scare: New Evidence from East German Documents: 14(3) 186
Fischer, Beth A., Perception, Intelligence Errors, and the Cuban Missile Crisis: 13(3) 150
Fitch, Stephen D., The FBI Library Awareness Program: An Analysis: 7(2) 101
Foglesong, David S., Xenophon Kalamatiano: An American Spy in Revolutionary Russia?: 6(1) 154
Foot, M. R. D., Uses and Abuses of Intelligence (Review Article): 2(1) 184
Ford, Harold P., The US Government’s Experience with Intelligence Analysis: Pluses and Minuses: 10(4) 34
Ford, Ronnie E., Intelligence and the Significance of Khe Sanh: 10(1) 144
Ford, Ronnie E., Tet Revisited: The Strategy of the Communist Vietnamese: 9(2) 242
Ford, Ronnie E., Secret Army, Secret War, Recent Disclosures and the Vietnam War: The Significance of American 34 Alpha and DESOTO Operations with Regard to the Tonkin Gulf Resolution (Review Article): 11(2) 364
Frank Jr., Willard C., Politico–Military Deception at Sea in the Spanish Civil War, 1936–39: 5(3) 84
Freedman, Lawrence, ‘Powerful Intelligence’ (Review Article): 12(2) 198
Freedman, Lawrence, Intelligence Operations in the Falklands: 1(3) 309
Freedman, Lawrence, The CIA and the Soviet Threat: The Politicization of Estimates, 1966–1977: 12(1) 122
French, David, Watching the Allies: British Intelligence and the French Mutinies of 1917: 6(3) 573
Friedman, Hal M., The ‘Bear’ in the Pacific? US Intelligence Perceptions of Soviet Strategic Power Projection in the Pacific Basin and East Asia, 1945–1947: 12(4) 75
Fry, Michael G. and Michael Hochstein, Epistemic Communities: Intelligence Studies and International Relations: 8(3) 14
Fry, Michael Graham, The Uses of Intelligence: The United Nations Confronts the United States in the Lebanon Crisis, 1958: 10(1)
Fursenko, Aleksandr and Timothy Naftali, Soviet Intelligence and the Cuban Missile Crisis: 13(3) 64

Gardiner, L. Keith, Squaring the Circle: Dealing with Intelligence–Policy Breakdowns: 6(1) 141
Garthoff, Raymond L., A Commentary on Merom’s Methodology: 15(3) 146
Garthoff, Raymond L., Intelligence Aspects of Cold War Scientific Exchanges: US–USSR Atomic Energy Visits in 1959: 15(1) 1
Garthoff, Raymond L., The KGB Reports to Gorbachev: 11(2) 224
Garthoff, Raymond L., US Intelligence in the Cuban Missile Crisis: 13(3) 18
Garthoff, Raymond, Intelligence Aspects of Early Cold War Summitry (1959–60): 14(3) 1
Gazit, Shlomo, Intelligence and the Peace Process in Israel: 12(3) 35
Gazit, Shlomo, Intelligence Estimates and the Decision–Maker: 3(3) 261
Gelber, Harry G., The Hunt for Spies: Another Inside Story (Review Article): 4(2) 385
Gentry, John A., Intelligence Analyst/Manager Relations at the CIA: 10(4) 133
Gill, Peter, Reasserting Control: Recent Changes in the Oversight of the UK Intelligence Community: 11(2) 313
Gill, Peter, Symbolic or Real? The Impact of the Canadian Security Intelligence Review Committee, 1984–88: 4(3) 550
Gladman, Brad W., Air Power and Intelligence in the Western Desert Campaign, 1940–43: 13(4) 144
Gladwin, Lee A., Cautious Collaborators: The Struggle for Anglo–American Cryptanalytic Co–operation, 1940–43: 14(1) 119
Glantz, David M., Soviet Operational Intelligence in the Kursk Operation, July 1943: 5(1) 5
Glantz, David M., The Red Mask: The Nature and Legacy of Soviet Military Deception in the Second World War: 2(3) 175
Gleditsch, Nils Petter, The Treholt Case: A Review of the Literature (Review Article): 10(3) 529
Glees, Anthony, War Crimes: The Security and Intelligence Dimension: 7(3) 242
Gooch, John, Major Mundey, Miss Dwyer and the Dog: An Episode in Passport Control: 3(2) 322
Goodman, Allan E. and Bruce O. Berkowitz, Intelligence without the Cold War: 9(2) 301
Goodman, Allan E., The Future of US Intelligence: 11(4) 645
Goodman, Allan, Shifting Paradigms, and Shifting Gears: A Perspective on Why There is No Post Cold War Intelligence Agenda: 10(4) 3
Gordievsky, Oleg, The KGB after the Coup: 8(3) 68
Gordievsky, Oleg, The KGB Archives: 6(1) 7
Gordievsky, Oleg, New Memoirs from Moscow (Review Article): 11(3) 586
Gorst, Anthony and W. Scott Lucas, The Other Collusion: Operation Straggle and Anglo–American Intervention in Syria, 1955–56: 4(3) 576
Goulter, Christina, The Role of Intelligence in Coastal Command’s Anti–Shipping Campaign, 1940–45: 5(1) 84
GoulterZervoudakis, Christina, The Politicization of Intelligence: The British Experience in Greece, 1941–1944: 13(1) 165
Gries, David, A New Look for Intelligence: 10(1) 170
Grunden, Walter E., Hungnam and the Japanese Atomic Bomb: Recent Historiography of a Postwar Myth: 13(2) 32

Hack, Karl, British Intelligence and Counter–Insurgency in the Era of Decolonisation: The Example of Malaya: 14(2) 124
Hack, Karl, Corpses, Prisoners of War and Captured Documents: British and Communist Narratives of the Malayan Emergency, and the Dynamics of Intelligence Transformation: 14(4) 211
Haines, Gerald K., CIA’s Role in the Study of UFOs, 1947–1990: A Die–Hard Issue: 14(2) 26
Haines, Gerald, The CIA’s Own Efforts to Understand and Document Its Past: A Brief History of the CIA History Programme, 1950–1995: 12(1) 201
Handel, Michael I., Intelligence and Military Operations: 5(2) 1
Handel, Michael I., Introduction: Strategic and Operational Deception in Historical Perspective: 2(3) 1
Handel, Michael I., Leaders and Intelligence: 3(3) 3
Handel, Michael I., Methodological Mischief: A Reply to Professor Müller: 4(1) 161
Handel, Michael I., Technological Surprise in War: 2(1) 5
Handel, Michael I., The Politics of Intelligence: 2(4) 5
Hannant, Larry, Access to the Inside: An Assessment of Canada’s Security Service: A History: 8(3) 149
Hannant, Larry, Inter–war Security Screening in Britain, the United States and Canada: 6(4) 711
Harris, J. P., British Military Intelligence and the Rise of German Mechanized Forces, 1929–40: 6(2) 395
Harrison, E. D. R., More Thoughts on Kim Philby’s My Silent War: 10(3) 514
Hart, John L., Pyotr Semyonovich Popov: The Tribulations of Faith: 12(4) 44
Haslam, Jonathan, Stalin’s Fears of a Separate Peace, 1942: 8(4) 97
Haslam, Jonathan, The KAL Shootdown (1983) and the State of Soviet Air Defence: 3(4) 128
Haslam, Jonathan, Why Rehabilitate Stalin? (Review Article): 2(2) 362
Hastedt, Glenn P., The Constitutional Control of Intelligence: 1(2) 255
Heather, Randall W., Intelligence and Counter–Insurgency in Kenya, 1952–56: 5(3) 57
Hedman, EvaLotta E., Late Imperial Romance: Magsaysay, Lansdale and the Philippine–American ‘Special Relationship’: 14(4) 181
Hennessy, Peter and Kathleen Townsend, The Documentary Spoor of Burgess and Maclean: 2(2) 291
Herbig, Katherine L., American Strategic Deception in the Pacific, 1942–44: 2(3) 260
Herman, Michael, Assessment Machinery: British and American Models: 10(4) 13
Herman, Michael, Intelligence and Policy: A Comment: 6(1) 229
Herman, Michael, Intelligence and the Assessment of Military Capabilities: Reasonable Sufficiency or the Worst Case?: 4(4) 765
Hers, J. F. Ph., The Rise of the Dutch Resistance: A Memoir: 7(4) 454
Hershberg, James G., Their Men in Havana: Anglo–American Intelligence Exchanges and the Cuban Crises, 1961–62: 15(2) 121
Hewitt, Steve, Royal Canadian Mounted Spy: The Secret Life of John Leopold/Jack Esselwein: 15(1) 144
Hibbert, Reginald, Intelligence and Policy: 5(1) 110
Hiley, Nicholas and Julian Putkowski, A Postscript on P.M.S.2: 3(2) 326
Hiley, Nicholas, British Internal Security in Wartime: The Rise and Fall of P.M.S.2, 1915–17: 1(3) 395
Hiley, Nicholas, Decoding German Spies: British Spy Fiction, 1908–1918: 5(4) 55
Hiley, Nicholas, The Play, the Parody, the Censor and the Film: 6(1) 218
Hiley, Nicholas, The Strategic Origins of Room 40: 2(2) 245
Hindley, Meredith, First Annual List of Dissertations on Intelligence: 13(4) 208
Hindley, Meredith, Teaching Intelligence Project: 15(1) 191
Hindley, Meredith, The Strategy of Rescue and Relief: The Use of OSS Intelligence by the War Refugee Board in Sweden, 1944–45: 12(3) 145
Hoffman, Bruce, Intelligence and Terrorism: Emerging Threats and New Security Challenges in the Post–Cold War Era: 11(2) 207
Hofmann, Peter A., The Making of National Estimates during the Period of the ‘Missile Gap’: 1(3) 336
Homberger, Eric, ‘Uncle Max’ and his Thrillers: 3(2) 312
Homberger, Eric, English Spy Thrillers in the Age of Appeasement: 5(4) 80
Hope, John G., Surveillance or Collusion? Maxwell Knight, MI5 and the British Fascisti: 9(4) 651
Hopkins III, Robert S., An Expanded Understanding of Eisenhower, American Policy and Overflights: 11(2) 332
Hopkins, Michael F., A British Cold War? (Review Article): 7(4) 479
Hopkins, Michael F., Britain and the Korean War after 50 years: The Slow Emergence of an Intelligence Dimension: 15(1) 177
HughJones, Martin, Wickham Steed and German Biological Warfare Research: 7(4) 379
Hulnick, Arthur S., The Intelligence Producer–Policy Consumer Linkage: A Theoretical Approach: 1(2) 212
Hunt, David, Remarks on ‘A German Perspective on Allied Deception Operations’: 3(1) 190
Hutchinson, Harold R., Intelligence: Escape from Prisoner’s Dilemma: 7(3) 327

Imlay, Talbot, Allied Economic Intelligence and Strategy during the ‘Phoney War’: 13(4) 107

Jablonsky, David, The Paradox of Duality: Adolf Hitler and the Concept of Military Surprise: 3(3) 55
Jackson Jr., William H., Congressional Oversight of Intelligence: Search for a Framework: 5(3) 113
Jackson, Peter, France and the Guarantee to Romania, April 1939: 10(2) 242
Jansen, Marc and Ben de Jong, Stalin’s Hand in Rotterdam: The Murder of the Ukrainian Nationalist Yevhen Konovalets in May 1938: 9(4) 676
Jeffery, Keith (ed.), The Government Code and Cypher School A Memorandum by Lord Curzon: 1(3) 454
Jeffery, Keith and Eunan O’Halpin, Ireland in Spy Fiction: 5(4) 92
Jeffery, Keith, Intelligence and Counter–Insurgency Operations: Some Reflections on the British Experience: 2(1) 118
JeffreysJones, Rhodri and David Stafford, Introduction [to special issue ‘American–British–Canadian Relations 1939–2000’]: 15(2) 1
JeffreysJones, Rhodri, The Myth of Recovered Innocence in US Intelligence History (Review Article): 13(4) 231
JeffreysJones, Rhodri, American Intelligence: A Spur to Historical Genius? (Review Article): 3(2) 332
JeffreysJones, Rhodri, In Search of a Textbook: Recent Overviews of United States Intelligence History since the Days of the Founding Fathers (Review Article): 6(4) 750
JeffreysJones, Rhodri, Manual Indices and Digital Pathways: Developments in United States Intelligence Biography (Review Article): 9(3) 555
JeffreysJones, Rhodri, The Role of British Intelligence in the Mythologies Underpinning the OSS and Early CIA: 15(2) 5
JeffreysJones, Rhodri, Why was the CIA Established in 1947?: 12(1) 21
Jenkins, Philip, Spy Fiction and Terrorism: 5(4) 185
Jenkins, Philip, Terrorism (Review Article): 3(1) 205
Jenkins, Philip, The Assassins Revisited: Claire Sterling and The Politics of Intelligence (Review Article): 1(3) 459
Johnson, Loch K., Analysis for a New Age: 11(4) 657
Johnson, Loch K., Challenges of Strategic Intelligence (Review Article): 5(3) 215
Johnson, Loch K., Intelligence and the Challenge of Collaborative Government: 13(2) 177
Johnson, Loch K., The CIA and the Media: 1(2) 143
Johnson, Loch K., The CIA and the Question of Accountability: 12(1) 178
Johnston, Otto W., British Espionage and Prussian Politics in the Age of Napoleon: 2(2) 230
Johnston, Paul, No Cloak and Dagger Required: Intelligence Support to UN Peacekeeping: 12(4) 102
Jones, Kevin, ‘From the Horse’s Mouth’: Luftwaffe POWs as Sources for Air Ministry Intelligence During the Battle of Britain: 15(4) 42
Jones, R. V., A Sidelight on Bletchley, 1942: 9(1) 1
Jones, R. V., Intelligence and Command: 3(3) 288
Jonson, Ben, On Spies: 8(4) vii
Jukes, Geoff, More on the Soviets and Ultra: 4(2) 374
Jukes, Geoff, The Soviets and Ultra: 3(2) 233

Kahn, David, Edward Bell and his Zimmermann Telegram Memoranda: 14(3) 143
Kahn, David, Foreword: A Historian’s Perspective: 14(1) vii
Kahn, David, Woodrow Wilson on Intelligence: 9(3) 534
Kaiser, David, Conspiracy or Cock–up? Pearl Harbor Revisited (Review Article): 9(2) 354
Kaiser, David, Intelligence and the Assassination of John F. Kennedy: 12(4) 165
Karabell, Zachary, ‘Inside the US Espionage Den’: The US Embassy and the Fall of the Shah: 8(1) 44
Kauppi, Mark V., Intelligence Assessments of Soviet Motivations: JIS 80 and Kennan’s Long Telegram: 9(4) 603
Kealey, Gregory S., The Early Years of State Surveillance of Labour and the Left in Canada: The Institutional Framework of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Security and Intelligence Apparatus, 1918–26: 8(3) 129
Kealey, Gregory S., The Surveillance State: The Origins of Domestic Intelligence and Counter–Subversion in Canada, 1914–21: 7(3) 179
Keene, Jennifer D., Uneasy Alliances: French Military Intelligence and the American Army during the First World War: 13(1) 18
Keiger, J. F. V., ‘Perfidious Albion?’ French Perceptions of Britain as an Ally after the First World War: 13(1) 37
Kemp, Percy, The Fall and Rise of France’s Spymasters: 9(1) 12
Kerr, Sheila, Alperovitz, Timewatch and the Bomb: 5(3) 207
Kerr, Sheila, Familiar Fiction, not the Untold Story (Review Article): 9(1) 128
Kerr, Sheila, Roger Hollis and the Dangers of the Anglo–Soviet Treaty of 1942 : 5(3) 148
Kerr, Sheila, KGB Sources on the Cambridge Network of Soviet Agents: True or False? (Review Article): 11(3) 561
Keunings, Luc, The Secret Police in Nineteenth–Century Brussels: 4(1) 59
King, David E., Intelligence Failures and the Falklands War: A Reassessment: 2(2) 336
Kisatsky, Deborah, Voice of America and Iran, 1949–1953: US Liberal Developmentalism, Propaganda and the Cold War: 14(3) 160
Kitchen, Martin, SOE’s Man in Moscow: 12(3) 95
Kitson, Simon, Arresting Nazi Spies in Vichy France (1940–42): 15(1) 80
Knight, Robert, Harold Macmillan and the Cossacks: Was There a Klagenfurt Conspiracy?: 1(2) 234
Knott, Stephen, Executive Power and the Control of American Intelligence: 13(2) 171
Kochavi, Noam, Washington’s View of the Sino–Soviet Split, 1961–63: From Puzzled Prudence to Bold Experimentation: 15(1) 50
Kovacs, Amos, Using Intelligence: 12(4) 145

Langbart, David A., ‘Spare No Expense’: The Department of State and the Search for Information about Bolshevik Russia, November 1917–September 1918: 4(2) 316
Laurent, Sébastien, The Free French Secret Services: Intelligence and the Politics of Republican Legitimacy: 15(4) 19
Laville, Helen, The Committee of Correspondence – CIA Funding of Women’s Groups, 1952–1967: 12(1) 104
Lees, Lorraine M., DeWitt Clinton Poole, the Foreign Nationalities Branch and Political Intelligence: 15(4) 81
Leifland, Leif, Deception Plan Graffham and Sweden: Another View: 4(2) 295
Leigh, Ian, Legal Access to Security Files: The Canadian Experience: 12(2) 126
Lewis, Jim, The ‘Weeding’ of Harold Begbie: 9(1) 50
Linn, Brian McAllister, Intelligence and Low–Intensity Conflict in the Philippine War, 1899–1902: 6(1) 90
Lombardo, Johannes R., A Mission of Espionage, Intelligence and Psychological Operations: The American Consulate in Hong Kong, 1949–64: 14(4) 64
Long, John W., Plot and Counter–plot in Revolutionary Russia: Chronicling the Bruce Lockhart Conspiracy, 1918: 10(1) 122
Lowenthal, John, Venona and Alger Hiss: 15(3) 98
Lowenthal, Mark M., Searching for National Intelligence: US Intelligence and Policy before the Second World War: 6(4) 736
Lowenthal, Mark M., The Intelligence Library: Quantity vs. Quality (Review Article): 2(2) 368
Lucas, W. Scott and Alistair Morley, UK–US Intelligence Services Before and After Suez: 15(2) 95
Lucas, W. Scott, Escaping Suez: New Interpretations of Western Policy in the Middle East (Review Article): 12(2) 180
Lucas, W. Scott, Beyond the New Look: Policy and Operations in the Eisenhower Administration (Review Article): 12(3) 196
Lukes, Igor, The Birth of a Police State: The Czechoslovak Ministry of the Interior, 1945–48: 11(1) 78
Lukes, Igor, The Czechoslovak Intelligence Service and Western Reactions to the Communist Coup d’Etat of February 1948: 8(4) 73
Luvaas, Jay, Lee and Gettysburg: A General Without Intelligence: 5(2) 116
Luvaas, Jay, Napoleon’s Use of Intelligence: The Jena Campaign of 1805: 3(3) 40
Luvaas, Jay, The Role of Intelligence in the Chancellorsville Campaign, 1863: 5(2) 99

MacBride, Sean, Reflections on Intelligence: 2(1) 92
MacIntosh, J. J., Ethics and Spy Fiction: 5(4) 161
MacKenzie, S. P., Citizens in Arms: The Home Guard and the Internal Security of the United Kingdom, 1940–41: 6(3) 548
Maclaren, John and Nicholas Hiley, Nearer the Truth: The Search for Alexander Szek: 4(4) 813
MacPherson, B. Nelson, CIA Origins as Viewed from Within (Review Article): 10(2) 353
MacPherson, B. Nelson, Inspired Improvisation: William Casey and the Penetration of Germany: 9(4) 695
MacPherson, B. Nelson, The Compromise of US Navy Cryptanalysis After the Battle of Midway: 2(2) 320
Maddrell, Paul, Battlefield Germany: 13(2) 190
Maddrell, Paul, British–American Scientific Collaboration During the Occupation of Germany: 15(2) 74
Maddrell, Paul, Fond 89 of the Archives of the Soviet Communist Party and Soviet State (Review Article): 12(2) 184
Maglio, Manuela, Palestine, Israel and Egypt: New Scholarship on the Middle Eastern Conflicts (Review Article): 12(2) 163
Mahnken, Thomas G., Gazing at the Sun: The Office of Naval Intelligence and Japanese Naval Innovation, 1918–1941: 11(3) 424
Maiolo, Joseph A., ‘I believe the Hun is cheating’: British Admiralty Technical Intelligence and the German Navy, 1936–39: 11(1) 32
Marchio, Jim, Resistance Potential and Rollback: US Intelligence and the Eisenhower Administration’s Policies Toward Eastern Europe, 1953–56: 10(2) 219
Mark, Eduard, The OSS in Romania, 1944–45: An Intelligence Operation of the Early Cold War: 9(2) 320
Mark, Eduard, Venona’s Source 19 and the ‘Trident’ Conference of 1942: Diplomacy or Espionage?: 13(2) 1
MarquardtBigman, Petra, Project Communication: An Oral History of the Office of Strategic Services (Research Note): 12(2) 161
MarquardtBigman, Petra, The Research and Analysis Branch of the OSS in the Debate of US Policies towards Germany, 1943–46: 12(2) 91
Marsden, Roy, Operation ‘Schooner/Nylon’: BRIXMIS RAF Flying in the Berlin Control Zone: 13(4) 178
Marshall, Robert, The Atomic Bomb – and the Lag in Historical Understanding: 6(2) 458
Martland, Peter, The Okhrana: Guardians of a Recorded Culture: 6(3) 627
McKay, C. G., Debris from Stella Polaris: A Footnote to the CIA–NSA Account of Venona: 14(2) 198
McKay, C. G., MI5 on OSTRO: A New Document from the Archives (Research Note): 12(3) 178
McKay, C. G., Our Man in Reval: 9(1) 88
McKay, C. G., The Krämer Case: A Study in Three Dimensions: 4(2) 268
McKay, C. G., Whispers in the Dark (Review Article): 4(2) 401
McKay, C. G., The SIS Network in Norway, 1940–1945 (Review Article): 10(3) 539
McKnight, David, The Moscow–Canberra Cables: How Soviet Intelligence Obtained British Secrets through the Back Door: 13(2) 159
McLennan, A. D., National Intelligence Assessment: Australia’s experience: 10(4) 72
McWilliams, John C. and Alan A. Block, All the Commissioner’s Men: The Federal Bureau of Narcotics and the Dewey–Luciano Affair, 1947–54: 5(1) 171
Merom, Gil, The 1962 Cuban Intelligence Estimate: A Methodological Perspective: 14(3) 48
Merom, Gil, Virtue, Expediency and the CIA’s Institutional Trap: 7(2) 30
Messenger, David A., Fighting for Relevance: Economic Intelligence and Special Operations Executive in Spain, 1943–1945: 15(3) 33
Milivojevic, Marko, The KGB (Review Article): 2(2) 341
Milivojevic, Marko, The GRU (Review Article): 1(2) 281
Miller, Davina, Democracy, Dictatorship and the Regulation of Arms Exports: The UK and Iraq (Review Article): 9(3) 536
Miller, Davina, Intelligence and Proliferation: Lessons from the Matrix Churchill Affair: 11(2) 193
Miller, R. Reuben, The Bangkok Solution: Peaceful Resolution of Hostage–taking: 10(2) 306
MilnerBarry, P. S., ‘Action This Day’: The Letter from Bletchley Park Cryptanalysts to the Prime Minister,21 October 1941: 1(2)
MilnerBarry, P. S., In Memoriam Gordon Welchman: 1(2) 141
MilnerBarry, P. S., The Soviets and Ultra: A Comment on Jukes’ Hypothesis: 3(2) 248
Moran, Jonathan, The Role of the Security Services in Democratization: An Analysis of South Korea’s Agency for National Security Planning: 13(4) 1
Morrell, Gordon W., Redefining Intelligence and Intelligence–gathering: The Industrial Intelligence Centre and the Metro–Vickers Affair, Moscow 1933: 9(3) 520
Morris, Christopher, Ultra’s Poor Relations: 1(1) 111
Müller, KlausJürgen, A German Perspective on Allied Deception Operations in the Second World War: 2(3) 301
Mullins, Robert E., New Ways of Thinking: The Intelligence Function and Strategic Calculations in the Admiralty, 1882–1889: 15(3) 77
Murphy, David E., KGB and MfS: Friendly Enemies (Review Article): 14(3) 228
Murphy, David E., Sasha Who? (Review Article): 8(1) 102
Murray, Williamson, Appeasement and Intelligence: 2(4) 47

Naftali, Timothy J., Intrepid’s Last Deception: Documenting the Career of Sir William Stephenson: 8(3) 72
Nelson, Harold, Intelligence and the Next War: A Retrospective View: 2(1) 97
Nielsen, Harold, The German Analysis and Assessment System: 10(4) 54
Nish, Ian, Japan and its Impact on South–east Asia (Review Article): 9(4) 753

O’Halpin, E., ‘Toys’ and ‘Whispers’ in ‘16–land’: SOE and Ireland, 1940–1942: 15(4) 1
OHalpin, Eunan, Intelligence and Security in Ireland, 1922–45: 5(1) 50
O’Halpin, Eunan, Intelligence Fact and Fiction (Review Article): 2(4) 168
Oros, Andrew, Japanese Foreign Intelligence – Related Activities (Review Article): 14(3) 235

Parry, D. L. L., Clemenceau, Caillaux and the Political Use of Intelligence: 9(3) 472
Paschall, Rod, Deception for St. Mihiel, 1918: 5(3) 158
Peake, Hayden B., OSS and the Venona Decrypts: 12(3) 14
Pennetier, JeanMarc, The Springtime of French Intelligence (Review Article): 11(4) 780
Place, T. Harrison, British Perceptions of the Tactics of the German Army, 1938–1940: 9(3) 495
Popplewell, Richard J., British Intelligence in Mesopotamia, 1914–16: 5(2) 139
Popplewell, Richard J., The KGB and the Control of the Soviet Bloc: The Case of East Germany: 13(1) 254
Popplewell, Richard, ‘Lacking Intelligence’: Some Reflections on Recent Approaches to British Counter–Insurgency, 1900–1960 (Review Article): 10(2) 336
Popplewell, Richard, The Surveillance of Indian Revolutionaries in Great Britain and on the Continent, 1903–14: 3(1) 56
Popplewell, Richard, Themes in the Rhetoric of KGB Chairmen from Andropov to Kryuchkov: 6(3) 513
Porch, Douglas, French Intelligence and the Fall of France, 1930–1941: 4(1) 28
Porch, Douglas, French Intelligence Culture: A Historical and Political Perspective: 10(3) 486
Porch, Douglas, French Spies and Counter–Spies (Review Article): 2(1) 191
Porteous, Samuel D., Economic Espionage: Issues Arising from Increased Government Involvement with the Private Sector: 9(4) 735
Porter, Bernard, Secrets from the Edge (Review Article): 9(4) 759
Porter, Bernard, The Historiography of the Early Special Branch: 1(3) 381
Prados, John, US Intelligence and the Japanese Evacuation of Guadalcanal, 1943: 10(2) 294

Quiggin, Thomas, Response to ‘No Cloak and Dagger Required: Intelligence Support to UN Peacekeeping Missions’: 13(4) 203

Ramakrishna, Kumar, Content, Credibility and Context: Propaganda, Government Surrender Policy and the Malayan Communist Terrorist Mass Surrenders of 1958: 14(4) 242
Ramsbotham, Sir David, Analysis and Assessment for Peacekeeping Operations: 10(4) 162
Ratcliff, R. A., Searching for Security: The German Investigations into Enigma’s Security: 14(1) 146
Rathmell, Andrew, Brotherly Enemies: The Rise and Fall of the Syrian–Egyptian Intelligence Axis,1954–1967: 13(1) 230
Rathmell, Andrew, Copeland and Za‘im: Re–evaluating the Evidence: 11(1) 89
Rawnsley, Gary D., Overt and Covert: The Voice of Britain and Black Radio Broadcasting in the Suez Crisis, 1956: 11(3) 497
Rawnsley, Gary D., Taiwan’s Propaganda Cold War: The Offshore Islands Crises of 1954 and 1958: 14(4) 82
Redfearn, Mason (with Richard J. Aldrich), The Perfect Cover: British Intelligence, the Soviet Fleet and Distant Water Trawler Operations, 1963–1974: 12(3) 166
Richelson, Jeffrey T., Task Force 157: The US Navy’s Secret Intelligence Service, 1966–77: 11(1) 106
Richelson, Jeffrey T., The Wizards of Langley: The CIA’s Directorate of Science and Technology: 12(1) 82
Rip, Michael Russell and David P. Lusch, The Precision Revolution: The Navstar Global Positioning System in the Second Gulf War: 9(2) 167
Rip, Michael Russell and Joseph F. Fontanella, A Window on the Arab–Israeli ‘Yom Kippur’ War of October 1973: Military Photo–Reconnaissance from High Altitude and Space: 6(1) 15
Rip, Michael Russell, and David P. Lusch, The Navstar Global Positioning System in Operation Desert Storm: A Research Note: 10(2) 327
Rip, Michael Russell, Military Photo–Reconnaissance during the Yom Kippur War: A Research Note: 7(2) 126
Robertson, K. G., Intelligence Requirements for the 1980s (Review Article): 2(4) 157
Robertson, K. G., Recent Reform of Intelligence in the United Kingdom Democratization or Risk Management?: 13(2) 144
Rosenau, William, A Deafening Silence: US Government Policy and the Sigint Facility at Lourdes: 9(4) 723
Ryan, Joseph F., Review of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service: A Suitable Model for the United Kingdom?: 5(3) 200

Sarotte, M. E., Spying Not Only on Strangers: Documenting Stasi Involvement in Cold War German–German Negotiations: 11(4) 765
Sarty, Roger, The Limits of Ultra: The Schnorkel U–boat Offensive Against North America, November 1944–January 1945: 12(2) 44
Scalingi, Paula L., Proliferation and Arms Control: 10(4) 149
Schimmelpenninck Van Der Oye, David H., Russian Military Intelligence on the Manchurian Front, 1904–05: 11(1) 22
Schimmelpenninck Van Der Oye, David H., Russia’s Official Intelligence History, Volume I: 14(1) 220
Schmeidel, John, My Enemy’s Enemy: Twenty Years of Co–operation between West Germany’s Red Army Faction and the GDR Ministry of State Security: 8(4) 59
Scott, Len, Espionage and the Cold War: Oleg Penkovsky and the Cuban Missile Crisis: 14(3) 23
Scott, Len, The Spy Who Wanted to Save the World (Review Article): 8(4) 138
ScottSmith, Giles, The ‘Masterpieces of the Twentieth Century’ Festival and the Congress for Cultural Freedom: Origins and Consolidation 1947–52: 15(1) 121
Seaman, Mark, Founding Father? Sir Colin Gubbins and the Origins of SOE (Review Article): 11(2) 360
Selth, Andrew, Burma’s Intelligence Apparatus: 13(4) 33
Seters, Deborah Van, The Munsinger Affair: Images of Espionage and Security in 1960s Canada: 13(2) 71
Sharfman, Peter, Intelligence Analysis in the Age of Electronic Dissemination: 10(4) 201
Sharp, Alan, Quelqu’un Nous Ecoute: French Interception of German Telegraphic and Telephonic Communications during the Paris Peace Conference, 1919: 3(4) 124
Sheffy, Yigal, Institutionalised Deception and Perception Reinforcements: Allenby’s Campaigns in Palestine, 1917–18: 5(2) 173
Sheffy, Yigal, The Spy Who Never Was: An Intelligence Myth in Palestine, 1914–18: 14(3) 123
Sheffy, Yigal, Unconcern at Dawn, Surprise at Sunset: Egyptian Intelligence Appreciation Before the Sinai Campaign, 1956: 5(3) 7
Shoenberg, David, Kapitza, Fact and Fiction: 3(4) 49
Shore, Zach, Hitler’s Opening Gambit: Intelligence, Encirclement, and the Decision to Ally with Poland: 14(3) 103
Shulman, Mark Russell, The Rise and Fall of American Naval Intelligence, 1882–1917: 8(2) 214
Sibley, Katherine A., Soviet Industrial Espionage Against American Military Technology and the US Response, 1930–1945: 14(2) 94
Siegel, Jennifer, British Intelligence on the Russian Revolution and Civil War – A Breach at the Source: 10(3) 468
Silver, Arnold M., Questions, Questions, Questions: Memories of Oberursel: 8(2) 199
Sissons, D. C. S., More on Pearl Harbor (Review Article): 9(2) 373
Smith, Bradley F., Admiral Godfrey’s Mission to America, June/July 1941: 1(3) 441
Smith, Bradley F., An Idiosyncratic View of Where we Stand on the History of American Intelligence in the Early Post–1945 Era: 3(4) 111
Smith, Bradley F., New Intelligence Releases: A British Side to the Story: 14(1) 168
Smith, Bradley F., The American Road to Central Intelligence: 12(1) 1
Smith, Bradley F., The Birth of SIS: A Newly Released Document: 13(2) 183
Smith, Thomas T., The Bodden Line: A Case–study of Wartime Technology: 6(2) 447
Smyth, Denis, Our Man in Havana, Their Man in Madrid: Literary Invention in Espionage Fact and Fiction: 5(4) 117
Smyth, Denis, Screening ‘Torch’: Allied Counter–Intelligence and the Spanish Threat to the Secrecy of the Allied Invasion of French North Africa in November 1942: 4(2) 335
Spence, Richard B., Sidney Reilly in America, 1914–1917: 10(1) 92
Stack, Kevin P., Competitive Intelligence: 13(4) 194
Stafford, David, Roosevelt, Churchill and Anglo–American Intelligence: The Strange Case of Juan March: 15(2) 36
Starnes, John, Why I Write Spy Fiction: 5(4) 204
Steele, Robert David, Private Enterprise Intelligence: Its Potential Contribution to National Security: 10(4) 212
Steiner, Barry H., American Intelligence and the Soviet ICBM Build–up: Another Look: 8(2) 172
Stewart, Brian, Winning in Malaya: An Intelligence Success Story: 14(4) 267
Stewart, James G., Looking into the Dirty Laundry (Review Article): 11(1) 154
Stripp, Alan J., Breaking Japanese Codes: 2(4) 135
Strong, Robert A., October Surprises (Review Article): 8(2) 227
Sullivan, Brian A., ‘A Highly Commendable Action’: William J. Donovan’s Intelligence Mission for Mussolini and Roosevelt, December 1935–February 1936: 6(2) 334
Sullivan, Brian R., From Little Brother to Senior Partner: Fascist Italian Perceptions of the Nazis and of Hitler’s Regime, 1930–1936: 13(1) 85
Swain, Geoffrey, ‘An Interesting and Plausible Proposal’: Bruce Lockhart, Sidney Reilly and the Latvian Riflemen, Russia 1918: 14(3) 81
Swain, Geoffrey, Bitten by the Russia Bug: Britons and Russia, 1894–1939 (Review Article): 13(4) 245

Tauber, Eliezer, The Capture of the NILI Spies: The Turkish Version: 6(4) 701
Taylor, Sandra C., Long–Haired Women, Short–Haired Spies: Gender, Espionage, and America’s War in Vietnam: 13(2) 61
Taylor, Stan A., and Daniel Snows, Cold War Spies: Why They Spied and How They Got Caught: 12(2) 101
Tennant, Peter, How We Failed to Buy the Italian Navy: 3(1) 141
Tennant, Peter, Swedish Intelligence in the Second World War (Review Article): 2(2) 354
Thomas, Andy, British Signals Intelligence after the Second World War: 3(4) 103
Thomas, Martin, Signals Intelligence and Vichy France, 1940–44: Intelligence in Defeat: 14(1) 176
Thomas, Martin, The Massingham Mission: SOE in French North Africa, 1941–1944: 11(4) 696
Thorne, Peter, Andrew Thorne and the Liberation of Norway: 7(3) 300
Thurlow, Richard C., ‘A Very Clever Capitalist Class’: British Communism and State Surveillance, 1939–45: 12(2) 1
Thurlow, Richard C., British Fascism and State Surveillance, 1943–45: 3(1) 77
Thurlow, Richard C., Internment in the Second World War (Review Article): 9(1) 123
Thurlow, Richard C., The Charm Offensive: The ‘Coming Out’ of MI5: 15(1) 185
Trotter, David, The Politics of Adventure in the Early British Spy Novel: 5(4) 30
Twining, David T., Soviet Strategic Culture: The Missing Dimension (Review Article): 4(1) 169

Usowski, Peter S., Intelligence Estimates and US Policy Toward Laos, 1960–63: 6(2) 367

Van Seters, Deborah, ‘Hardly Hollywood’s Ideal’: Female Autobiographies of Secret Service Work, 1914–45: 7(4) 403
Vaughn, Bruce, The Use and Abuse of Intelligence Services in India: 8(1) 1

Waagenaar, Sam, Mata Hari (Review Article): 2(4) 172
Wark, Wesley K., British Intelligence and Small Wars in the 1930s: 2(4) 67
Wark, Wesley K., In Search of a Suitable Japan: British Naval Intelligence in the Pacific Before the Second World War: 1(2) 189
Wark, Wesley K., Introduction: Fictions of History: 5(4) 7
Wark, Wesley K., Introduction: The Study of Espionage: Past, Present, Future?: 8(3) 1
Wark, Wesley K., ‘Our Man in Riga’: Reflections on the SIS Career and Writings of Leslie Nicholson: 11(4) 625
Wark, Wesley K., Something Very Stern: British Political Intelligence, Moralism and Strategy in 1939: 5(1) 150
Wark, Wesley K., Williamson Murray’s Wars (Review article): 1(3) 472
Warner, Michael, and Robert Louis Benson, Venona and Beyond: Thoughts on Work Undone: 12(3) 1
Watt, D. Cameron, An Intelligence Surprise: The Failure of the Foreign Office to Anticipate the Nazi–Soviet Pact: 4(3) 512
Watt, D. Cameron, Critical Afterthoughts and Alternative Historico–Literary Theories: 5(4) 212
Watt, D. Cameron, Francis Herbert King: A Soviet Source in the Foreign Office: 3(4) 62
Watt, D. Cameron, Intelligence Studies: The Emergence of the British School (Review Article): 3(2) 338
Watt, D. Cameron, The Proper Study of Propaganda: 15(4) 143
Watt, D. Cameron, The Sender der deutschen Freiheitspartei: A First Step in the British Radio War Against Nazi Germany?: 6(3) 621
Watt, Donald Cameron, Research Notes: 11(1) 146
Welchman, Gordon, From Polish Bomba to British Bombe: the Birth of Ultra: 1(1) 71
Westerfield, Bradford H., America and the World of Intelligence Liaison: 11(6) 523
Whitaker, Reg, Spies Who Might Have Been: Canada and the Myth of Cold War Counterintelligence: 12(4) 25
Whitaker, Reg, The ‘Bristow Affair’: A Crisis of Accountability in Canadian Security Intelligence: 11(2) 279
Whitaker, Reg, The Politics of Security Intelligence Policy–making in Canada: I 1970–84: 6(4) 649
Whitaker, Reg, The Politics of Security Intelligence Policy–making in Canada: II 1984–91: 7(2) 53
Whitaker, Reg, Cold War Alchemy: How America, Britain and Canada Transformed Espionage into Subversion: 15(2) 177
Wilkes, Owen and Nils Petter Gleditsch, NAROL – An Early Attack Assessment System: 2(2) 331
Wilson, Veronica A., Elizabeth Bentley and Cold War Representation: Some Masks Not Dropped: 14(2) 49
Wirtz, James J., Organizing for Crisis Intelligence: Lessons from the Cuban Missile Crisis: 13(3) 120
Wirtz, James J., The Intelligence Paradigm (Review Article): 4(4) 829
Wolske, J. Alan, Jack, Judy, Sam, Bobby, Johnny, Frank …: An Investigation into the Alternate History of the CIA–Mafia Collaboration to Assassinate Fidel Castro, 1960–1997: 15(4) 104
Wylie, Neville, ‘Keeping the Swiss Sweet’: Intelligence as a Factor in British Policy towards Switzerland during the Second World War: 11(3) 442

Young, Jay T., US Intelligence Assessment in a Changing World: The Need for Reform: 8(2) 125
Young, John, George Wigg, the Wilson Government and the 1966 Report into Security in the Diplomatic Service and GCHQ: 14(3) 198
Young, John, The Foreign Office, the Quai d’Orsay and the Case of the Russian Bomb, June 1953: 1(3) 451
Young, Robert J., The Use and Abuse of Fear: France and the Air Menace in the 1930s: 2(4) 88
Yu, Maochun, Chinese Codebreakers, 1927–45: 14(1) 201

Zelikov, Philip, American Economic Intelligence: Past Practice and Future Principles: 12(1) 164
Zervoudakis, Alexander, ‘Nihil mirare, nihil contemptare, omnia intelligere’: Franco–Vietnamese Intelligence in Indochina, 1950–1954: 13(1) 195
Ziegler, Charles A., Intelligence Assessments of Soviet Atomic Capability, 1945–49: Myths, Monopolies and Maskirovka: 12(4) 1
Ziegler, Charles A., UFOs and the US Intelligence Community: 14(2) 1


Obsah

Kořeny Kalamatianos lze nalézt ve starověku . Homer v Ilias popisuje tři představení provedená kolem Achillova oštěpu, která zobrazují tanec v otevřeném kruhu. Starověcí Sparťané měli tanec zvaný ὅρμος hormos , což byl tanec ve stylu syrto , který podrobně popsal Xenophon, kde žena vedla muže k tanci pomocí kapesníku. Lucian uvádí, že tanec ormos byl prováděn v otevřeném kruhu a prováděli ho mladí muži a ženy. Muži energicky tancovali, zatímco ženy tancovaly skromnými pohyby.

V 19. století se tento tanec nazýval Syrtos O Peloponisios . Předpokládá se, že název kalamatianos získal od města Kalamata v jižním Řecku většina řeckých tanců je běžně pojmenována po vesnicích nebo oblastech, ze kterých se má za to, že pocházely.

Kalamatiano písně jsou mnohé a populární - některé z tradičních kalamatiano písní jsou Samiotissa (Dívka z Samos ), Mandili Kalamatiano (šátek z Kalamata ), Milo Mou Kokkino (My Red Apple), To Papaki (dále jen káčátko), Mou Pariggile Komu Aidoni (The Nightingale mi poslal zprávu), Ola Ta Poulakia (All Birds) atd. Obzvláště strašidelný příklad kalamatianos, Mekapses Yitonissa (Μέκαψες Γειτόνισσα), byl zaznamenán pro průkopnické album Řecké hudby National Geographic Society , vydáno v roce 1968.

Kalamatiano se hraje při zvláštních příležitostech, jako jsou Velikonoce a svatby.


Anthony Seldon and David Walsh: Public Schools and the Great War - The Generation Lost

Richard Ropner (Harrow), Royal Machine Gun Corps

On August 3, 1914, twenty-two of England’s best public school cricketers gathered for the annual schools’ representative match. The game ended the following evening. Britain’s ultimatum to Germany expired a few hours later. Seven of those twenty-two would be dead before the war was over. Anthony Seldon and David Walsh’s fine new history of the public schools and the First World War bears the subtitle “The Generation Lost” for good reason.

Britain neither wanted nor was prepared for a continental war. Its armed forces were mainly naval or colonial. The regular army that underwrote that ultimatum was, in the words of Niall Ferguson, “a dwarf force” with “just seven divisions (including one of cavalry), compared with Germany’s ninety-eight and a half.”

Britain’s more liberal political traditions, so distinct then—and now—from those of its European neighbors, had rendered peacetime conscription out of the question, but manpower shortages during the Boer War and growing anxiety over the vulnerability of the mother country itself led to a series of military reforms designed to toughen up domestic defenses. These included the consolidation of ancient yeomanry and militias into a Territorial Force and Special Reserve. The old public-school “rifle corps,” meanwhile, were absorbed into an Officers’ Training Corps and put under direct War Office control.

Most public schools signed up for this, and by 1914 most had made “the corps” compulsory. Some took it seriously. Quite a few did not. Stuart Mais, the author of A Public School in Wartime (1916), wrote that Sherborne’s prewar OTC was seen as “a piffling waste of time . . . playing at soldiers” that got in the way of cricket. Two decades later, Adolf Hitler cited the OTC to a surprised Anthony Eden (then Britain’s foreign secretary) as evidence of the militarization of Britain’s youth. It “hardly deserved such renown,” drily recalled Eden (in his unexpectedly evocative Another World 1897–1917), “even though the light grey uniforms with their pale blue facings did give our school contingent a superficially Germanic look.”

And yet this not-very-military nation saw an astonishing response to the call for volunteers to join the fight. By the end of September 1914 over 750,000 men had enlisted. But where were the officers to come from? A number of retired officers returned to the colors, and the Territorials boasted some men with useful experience, but these were not going to be close to sufficient numbers. The army turned to public-school alumni to fill the gap. In theory, this was because these men had enjoyed the benefit of some degree of military training, however inadequate, with the OTC, but in truth it was based on the belief of those in charge, themselves almost always former public schoolboys, that these chaps would know what to do. Looked at one way, this was nothing more than crude class prejudice looked at another, it made a great deal of sense. In the later years of the war, many officers (“temporary gentlemen” in the condescending expression of the day) of humbler origins rose through the ranks, but in its earlier stages the conflict was too young to have taught the army how best to judge who would lead well. In the meantime, Old Harrovians, Old Etonians, and all those other Olds would have to do.

To agree that this was not unreasonable implies a level of acceptance of the public school system at its zenith utterly at odds with some of the deepest prejudices festering in Britain today. British politics remain obsessed with class in a manner that owes more to ancient resentments than any contemporary reality. A recent incident, in which a columnist for the far left Socialist Worker made fun of the fatal mauling of an Eton schoolboy by a polar bear (“another reason to save the polar bears”), is an outlier in its cruelty, but it’s a rare week that goes by in which a public school education is not used to whip a Tory cur, as David Cameron (Eton) knows only too well.

Under the circumstances it takes courage to combine, as Seldon and Walsh do, a not-unfriendly portrait of the early twentieth-century public schools (it should be noted that both men are, or have been, public schoolmasters) with a broader analysis that implies little sympathy for the sentimental clichés that dominate current British feeling—and it is felt, deeply so—about the Great War: Wilfred Owen and all that. It is not necessary to be an admirer of the decision to enter the war or indeed of how it was fought (I am neither) to regret how Britain’s understanding of those four terrible years has been so severely distorted over the past decades. Brilliantly deceptive leftist agitprop intended to influence modern political debate has come to be confused with history.

Oh! What a Lovely War smeared the British establishment of the 1960s with the filth of Passchendaele and the Somme. Similarly, the caricature of the war contained in television productions such as Blackadder Goes Forth (1989) and The Monocled Mutineer (1986) can at least partly be read as an angry response to Mrs. Thatcher’s long ascendancy. Coincidentally or not, the late 1980s also saw the appearance of The Old Lie: The Great War and the Public-School Ethos by Peter Parker. For a caustic, literary, and intriguing—if slanted—dissection of these schools’ darker sides, Parker’s book is the place to go.

Seldon and Walsh offer a more detailed and distinctly more nuanced description of how these schools operated, handily knocking down a few clichés on the way: There were flannelled fools aplenty, but there was also the badly wounded Harold Macmillan (Eton), “intermittently” reading Aeschylus (in Greek) as he lay for days awaiting rescue in a shell hole. Aeschylus was not for all, but a glance at the letters officers wrote from the front is usually enough to shatter the myth of the ubiquitous philistine oaf. There was much more to the public schools than, to quote Harrow’s most famous song, “the tramp of the twenty-two men.”

But however harsh a critic he may be (“that men died for an ethos does not mean that the ethos was worth dying for”), Parker is too honest a writer not to acknowledge the good, sometimes heroic, qualities of these hopelessly ill-trained young officers and the bond they regularly forged across an often immense class divide with the troops that they led. “I got to know the men,” wrote my maternal grandfather Richard Ropner (Harrow, Machine Gun Corps) in an unpublished memoir half a century later, “I hope they got to know me.” In many such cases they did. It is tempting to speculate that such bonds (easier to claim, perhaps, de haut than en bas) may have been more real in the eyes of the commanders than of the commanded, but there is strong evidence to suggest that there was nothing imaginary about them. Men died for their officers. Officers died for their men.

My grandfather owned a set of memorial volumes published by Harrow in 1919. Each of the school’s war dead is commemorated with a photograph and an obituary. It is striking to see how frequently the affection with which these officers—and they almost all were officers—were held by their men is cited. Writing about Lieutenant Robert Boyd (killed at the Somme, July 14, 1916, aged twenty-three), his company commander wrote that Boyd’s “men both loved him and knew he was a good officer—two entirely different things.” This subtle point reflects the way that the public school ethos both fitted in with and smoothed the tough paternalism of the regular army into something more suited to a citizen army that now included recruits socially, temperamentally, and intellectually very different from that rough caste apart, Kipling’s “single men in barricks.”

The public schools relied heavily on older boys to maintain a regime that had come a long way from Tom Brown’s bleak start. This taught them both command and, in theory (Flashman had his successors), the obligations that came with it. That officers were expected both to lead and care for their men was a role for which they had thus already been prepared by an education designed, however haphazardly, to mold future generations of the ruling class. Contrary to what Parker might argue, these schools had not set out to groom their pupils for war. But the qualities these institutions taught—pluck, dutifulness, patriotism, athleticism (both as a good in itself and as a shaper of character), conformism, stoicism, group loyalty, and a curious mix of self-assurance and self-effacement—were to prove invaluable in the trenches as was familiarity with a disciplined, austere, all-male lifestyle.

There was something else: The fact that many of these men had boarded away from home, often from the age of eight, and sometimes even earlier, meant that they had learned how to put on a performance for the benefit of those who watched them. A display of weakness risked transforming boarding school life into one’s own version of Lord of the Flies. That particular training stayed with them on the Western Front: “I do not hold life cheap at all,” wrote Edward Brittain (Uppingham), “and it is hard to be sufficiently brave, yet I have hardly ever felt really afraid. One has to keep up appearances at all costs even if one is.” It was all, as Macmillan put it, part of “the show.”

There are countless examples of how stiff that upper lip could be, but when Seldon and Walsh cite the example of Captain Francis Townend (Dulwich), even those accustomed to such stories have to pause to ask, who were these men?: “Both legs blown off by a shell and balancing himself on his stumps, [Townend] told his rescuer to tend to the men first and said that he would be all right, though he might have to give up rugby next year. He then died.”

Pastoral care was all very well, but the soldiers also knew that, unlike the much-resented staff officers, their officers took the same, or greater, risks that they did. This was primarily due to the army’s traditional suspicion that the lower orders—not to speak of the raw, half-trained recruits who appeared in the trenches after 1914—could not be trusted with anything resembling responsibility, but it also reflected the officers’ own view of what their job should be. And so, subalterns (a British army term for officers below the rank of captain), captains, majors, and even colonels led from the front, often fulfilling, particularly in the case of subalterns, a role that in other armies would be delegated to NCOs. The consequences were lethal. Making matters worse, the inequality between the classes was such that officers were on average five inches taller than their men, and, until the rules were changed in 1916, they always wore different uniforms too. The Germans knew who to shoot. The longer-term implications of this cull of the nation’s elite may have been exaggerated by Britons anxious to explain away their country’s subsequent decline, but the numbers have not: some 35,000 former public schoolboys died in the war, a large slice of a small stratum of society.

Roughly eleven percent of those who fought in the British army were killed, but, as Seldon and Walsh show, the death rate among former public schoolboys (most of whom were officers) ran at some eighteen percent. For those who left school in the years leading up to 1914 (and were thus the most likely to have served as junior officers) the toll was higher still. Nearly forty percent of the Harrow intake of the summer of 1910 (my grandfather arrived at the school the following year) were not to survive the war. Six Weeks: The Short and Gallant Life of the British Officer in the First World War (2010) by John Lewis-Stempel is an elegiac, moving, and vivid account of what awaited them. Lewis-Stempel explains his title thus: “The average time a British Army junior officer survived during the Western Front’s bloodiest phases was six weeks.”

To Lewis-Stempel, a fierce critic of those who see the war as a pointless tragedy, the bravery and determination of these young officers made them “the single most important factor in Britain’s victory on the Western Front,” a stretch, but not an altogether unreasonable one, and he is not alone in thinking this way. The British army weathered the conflict far better—and far more cohesively—than did those of the other original combatants, and effective officering played no small part in that.

Lewis-Stempel attributes much of that achievement to the “martial and patriotic spirit” of the public schools, a view of those establishments with which Parker would, ironically, agree, but that is to muddle consequence with cause. Patriotic, yes, the schools were that, as was the nation—being top dog will have that effect. But, like the rest of the country, they were considerably less “martial” than Britain’s mastery of so much of the globe would suggest. A public school education may have provided a good preparation for the trenches, but it did not pave the way to them. That so many alumni came to the defense of their country in what was seen as its hour of need ought not to form any part of any serious indictment against the schools from which they came. That they sometimes did so with insouciance and enthusiasm that seems remarkable today was a sign not of misplaced jingoism, but of a lack of awareness that, a savage century later, it’s difficult not to envy.

And when that awareness came, they still stuck it out, determined to see the job done. Seldon and Walsh write that “It was the ability . . . to endure which underpinned the former public schoolboys’ leadership of the army and the nation.” Perhaps it would have been better if they had had been less willing to endure and more willing to question, but that’s a different debate. To be sure, there was plenty of talk of the nobility of sacrifice—and of combat—but, for the most part, that was evidence not of a death wish or any sort of bloodlust, but of the all too human need to put what they were doing, and what they had lost, into finer words and grander context.

And that they clung so closely to memories of the old school—to an extent that seems extraordinary today—should come as no surprise. These were often very young men, often barely out of their teens. School, especially for those who had boarded, had been a major part of their lives, psychologically as well as chronologically. “School,” wrote Robert Graves (Charterhouse), “became the reality, and home life the illusion.” And now its memory became something to cherish amid the mad landscape of war.

They wrote to their schoolmasters and their schoolmasters wrote to them. They returned to school on leave and they devoured their school magazines. They fought alongside those who had been to the same schools and they gave their billets familiar school names. They met up for sometimes astoundingly lavish old boys’ dinners behind the lines, including one attended by seventy Wykehamists to discuss the proposed Winchester war memorial. The names of three of the subalterns present would, Seldon and Walsh note, eventually be recorded on it.

So far as is possible given what they are describing, these two authors tell this story dispassionately. Theirs is a calm, thoroughly researched work, lacking the emotional excesses that are such a recurring feature of the continuing British argument over the Great War. That said, this book’s largely uninterrupted sequence of understandably admiring tales could have done with just a bit more counterbalance. For that try reading the recently published diaries written in a Casualty Clearing Station by the Earl of Crawford (Private Lord Crawford’s Great War Diaries: From Medical Orderly to Cabinet Minister) with its grumbling about “ignorant and childish” young officers arousing “panic among the men [with] their wild and dangerous notions.”

Doubtless the decision by Captain Billy Neville (Dover College) to arrange for his platoons to go over the top on the first day of the Somme kicking soccer balls is something that Crawford would have included amongst the “puerile and fantastic nonsense” he associated with such officers. Seldon and Walsh, by contrast, see this—and plausibly so—not as an example of Henry Newbolt’s instruction to “Play up! play up! and play the game!” being followed to a lunatic degree, but rather as an astute attempt by Neville to give his soldiers some psychological support. “His aim was to make his men, who he knew would be afraid, more comfortable.” Better to think of those soccer balls than the enemy machine guns waiting just ahead. Nineteen thousand British troops were killed that day, including Neville. He was twenty-one.

Crawford was a hard-headed, acerbic, and clever Conservative, but occasionally his inner curmudgeon overwhelmed subtler understanding, as, maybe, did his location behind the lines, fifteen miles from where these officers shone. Nevertheless, one running theme of his diaries, the luxuries that some of them allowed themselves (“yesterday a smart young officer in a lofty dogcart drove a spanking pair of polo ponies tandem past our gate”) touches on a broader topic—the stark difference in the ways that officers and men were treated—that deserves more attention than it gets in Public Schools and the Great War. Even the most junior officers were allocated a “batman” (a servant). They were given more leave, were paid a great deal more generously, and, when possible, were fed far better and housed much more comfortably than their men. Even in a more deferential age, this must have rankled. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Parker dwells on this issue in more detail than Seldon and Walsh, but, fair-minded again, agrees that what truly counted with the troops was the fact that “when it came to battle [the young officers’] circumstances were very much the same as their own.”

They died together. And they are buried together, too, not far from where they fell. As the founder of the Imperial War Graves Commission explained, “in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the officers will tell you that, if they are killed, they would wish to be among their men.”


Watch the video: Katevas - Greek Folk Dances Kalamatiana. Καλαματιανά - Κατέβας