The Freedom Line

Almost twenty years ago, I was able to visit the Netherlands, which was a lot of fun.  Like any fan of history, I made sure to visit the Anne Frank House, which is world-famous and on every tourist’s list, but was worth it, especially since her story had intrigued me since first learning about her when an exhibit came to the old Salt Palace in the 1980s.  Less well-known, or at least less well-known to me, is the Dutch Resistance Museum (Verzetsmuseum).  I wanted to visit it, too, and made time to go a little off the usual, well-worn touristy paths in Amsterdam to see this museum.  It was full of World War II artifacts and many stories of the Dutch Resistance efforts, big and small, that had fascinated me since first picking up a copy of the Winged Watchman as a kid.  What I remember most vividly from the museum is that the curators recognized that not everyone could be a hero, rescuing dozens or actively fighting the German occupiers.  Some people had to take more calculated risks and passing along a flyer was all that was in their power.  Those little thing often led to much bigger things, as little things tend to do.

The Freedom Line: The Brave Men and Women Who Rescued Allied Airmen from the Nazis during World War II by Peter Eisner (ISBN: 0-06-009663-2) is a book largely about big things undertaken by people in Belgium, France, and Spain to do what they simply considered their part in fighting the Nazi regime.  The book tells the story of the Freedom Line, a group of people that moved downed Allied airmen from occupied territory to Spain, where they could link up with American or British diplomats and be safely taken home.  The Freedom Line was not a huge operation, with no more than a couple dozen figures aided by scores of friends and confidants, but was fairly effective and managed to smuggle between 650 and 700 Allied soldiers out of harm’s way.  While there were a few routes that escapees used, the main one was the Comet Line, run mainly by Dédée de Jongh, her father, Jean-François Nothomb, Florentino Goikoetxea, Kattalin Aguirre, and Elvire de Greef.  These Belgians, Frenchmen, and Basques worked together to rescue Allies troops from the invaders.  It was dangerous work, and many of the resistance members running the Comet Line ended up in prison, concentration camps, or dead, either executed by Germans or perishing along the treacherous smuggling routes through the Pyrenees Mountains.  They had a network of safe houses between Belgium and Spain, but there was always the chance traitors would infiltrate the line, and one notorious traitor — Jacques Desoubrie — did so, resulting in the deaths of many Allied airmen and the death or imprisonment of many resistance members.  The main figures running the Freedom Line preferred to control their own destiny despite British intelligence’s efforts to exert some control over the operation.  British assistance was welcomed, but not necessarily with open arms.  The book mainly follows the journey of a crew of Americans, piloted by Bob Grimes, shot down over Belgium from that fateful day to their eventual freedom.  That approach provides insight into how the line operated and who the main players were.  Sometimes, details from other escapees’ stories are included to complete the picture or provide fun anecdotes like the American pilot passionately kissed on a train by a woman he barely knew only as his guide from one safe house to the other in order to avoid having to show any papers to Nazi soldiers on the train.

The book was interesting and told a lot of good stories, providing what I thought was a rather complete picture of the Freedom Line.  I did think the focus on Bob Grimes’ crew possibly limited the scope, but it added a narrative element that helped the book flow in a story-like manner (something the modern history reader seems to expect).  The author’s wife is Basque, so the Basque players in the story get some extra focus, but that probably adds to the story instead of detracting since much of the effort would have been impossible were it not for truly heroic efforts by people like Florentino, making the trip through the Pyrenees hundreds of times with airmen and smuggled intelligence.  After reading a few pages of the book, I was reminded that I had once read a book called Cruel Crossing: Escaping Hitler across the Pyrenees, which chronicled the same people and effort; however, I thought the Freedom Line was a little more interesting than Cruel Crossing because it was pure history and not the combination of history and travelogue my earlier reading was.  What was the most powerful thing about the book was the usual selfless dedication shown by the resistance members who risked their lives and the lives of those around them simply because it was the right thing to do.  Many noted that they were simply doing what anyone would or should do and never wanted or expected to be rewarded for their efforts.  It is an example of duty and courage that all can learn from.  The book is worth a read to be inspired and to learn about the underground efforts to defy the Nazis, some small, some large, all of which contributed to the Allied victory.

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A Man Called Intrepid

World War II history has always fascinated me, although that fascination started more because of cool drawings of bombers, fighters, and half-tracks that I saw in a Richard Scarry book, Hop Aboard!  Here We Go!  Later, I saw the models that a couple of my uncles built, only deepening my interest in this conflict that directly impacted me via my grandparents, who lived through and fought in the war.  I still think the vehicles are a pretty cool part of the war, but the history of the people and places has grown on me since my childhood.  Since the scope of the war is so broad, there are many stories to tell.

A Man Called Intrepid: The Incredible WWII Narrative of the Hero Whose Spy Network and Secret Diplomacy Changed the Course of History by William Stevenson (ISBN: 978-1-59921-170-1) is the story of Sir William Stephenson, whose code name was Intrepid, a Canadian who served as the head of British Security Coordination (BSC) during World War II, which coordinated most of the UK’s espionage efforts in the Atlantic Theater, particularly with the United States, including before the U.S. was officially involved in the war.  The book is long and full of all kinds of stories about things like Camp X, a training center in Canada for various clandestine operators (spies, saboteurs, guerillas, etc.), code breaking, honey pots, financial schemes, resistance efforts (including the Norwegian efforts described in more detail in the Winter Fortress), and even some more traditional spying.  Intrepid, in addition to being involved in intelligence activity, was also a diplomat.  His efforts were instrumental in securing U.S. and Canadian support for many of the efforts the UK was involved in.  He had access to the highest levels of government, including President Roosevelt.  He had to navigate inter-agency and inter-service battles, but did so largely successfully and got most of the support he needed from England’s allies, eventually leading, both directly and indirectly, to the Allied victory against the Germans.  Many historians figure that without the efforts of Intrepid, the war could have gone very differently, and the book lays out that case rather convincingly.  The book ends with an interesting discussion of how Intrepid would’ve preferred a more open society after the war even though clandestine activity helped the Allies secure victory.

I thought the book was very interesting and a good read.  It was published in 1976, so is slightly more academic in nature than modern mass-market history (a fact that I appreciate).  The intriguing information it contains hasn’t aged.  Some of the code breaking and diplomacy-related sections are a little dryer, but fit into a bigger picture of a man who was clearly talented and helped change the course of history.  The book doesn’t get into the philosophical or political implications of intelligence work until the very end.  Many of the stories in the book can be read about in their own books.  This doesn’t always have all the details, but it’s detailed enough in most instances to keep one’s attention and provide an informative read for those interested in the course of World War II.  It even has a couple dozen pages of pictures.

 

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Avenue of Spies

France is famous for artwork, food, seaside rivieras, skiing, and the architecture and monuments of Paris.  France is on almost everyone’s list of places to visit.  Most people think it’d be cool to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, or spend time in Normandy or on the Mediterranean French Riviera.  Not everyone thinks snails are something they should try, but crêpes are on everyone’s list.  France also has an interesting reputation as being a country of cowards and wimps.  There are lots of jokes about French surrender in battle.  Some of this comes from a collaborationist government during World War II.  Despite the Nazi collaborators, there were many in France who joined the resistance and fought against Germany in open armed rebellion as well as in all kinds of underground activity.

Avenue of Spies: A True Story of Terror, Espionage, and One American Family’s Heroic Resistance in Nazi-occupied Paris by Alex Kershaw (ISBN: 978-0-8041-4004-1) is one story of underground activity during the Nazi occupation of France.  It is about an American, Dr. Sumner Jackson, his Swiss-born wife, Toquette, and their son, Phillip, who lived on the same street as many of the leaders of the occupying Germans, but aided the French resistance and paid the ultimate price for that patriotic effort.  Jackson was a surgeon at an American hospital in France and used both his residence and the hospital as venues for fighting the Germans.  Toquette and Phillip were also happy to be involved.  Phillip couldn’t do much as a teenager, but understood what his parents were involved in.  The house was used as a place to pass documents and information, the hospital was used to make Allied soldiers disappear once they had been adequately treated.  Many were able to escape to neutral Spain and then back to England.  The Nazis were next door and across the street and in houses all along the street, but the Jackson family was able to aid the resistance for quite some time before eventually being rounded up with other patriotic Frenchmen and sent to concentration camps in Germany.  The entire family survived the camps.  Toquette was extricated from one by the Swedes (reminded me a tiny bit of Raoul Wallenberg) and the Red Cross.  Sumner and Phillip survived their camp experience, in large part thanks to Dr. Jackson’s abilities as a doctor and being able to barter those services for easier assignments for his son.  However, they were being transported away from Germany on a transport ship that was bombed by the English.  The ship was destroyed.  Phillip was able to swim away and was rescued by German fishermen before they realized that he wasn’t German.  His father, though, who had a chance to not board the ship when the Germans, at the behest of the Red Cross, asked for all French speakers to step out of line, but decided to board anyway out of a sense of duty to the sick and injured men he was aiding as a doctor, did not survive the bombing.  Phillip’s last war-time activity was as a member of the British Army, translating, searching for, and testifying against German war criminals.  He was eventually re-united with his mother in France.

I found the book to be pretty good.  Like many history books that focus on one very specific event or one person, it seemed like there were parts of the book that were added simply to fill a page requirement.  Overall, though, the story was interesting, and the historical details about those involved, both French and German, were worth reading and learning about.  I am always impressed by those who were willing to take risks to do what was right during World War II.  Especially toward the end of the war, as Germany lost territory, men, and influence, any anti-German conduct was immediately punishable by death.  The Jackson family’s readiness to take on those risks essentially without asking any questions speaks volumes about their moral fiber and presents an example worth emulating.  

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Assassination: Operation Anthropoid

Anyone who’s ever read a spy novel is well acquainted with the idea of assassination, a technique utilized early and often in those books.  The most famous form of intrigue also has a long history in real life from ancient times (2 Kings 15:10 for one example, Julius Ceasar for another) to the targeted killings of terrorists in the last few years.  It seems exciting and slick in books and movies, but is usually a bit more messy in real life (targeting terrorists has resulted in a few killings of the wrong person).  Unsurprisingly, assassination was also part of the arsenal employed by the warring nations in World War II, which has long been one of the eras of history that has appealed to me.

Assassination: Operation Anthropoid: 1941–1942 by Michal Burian, Aleš Knížek, Jiří Rajlich, and Eduard Stehlík (ISBN: 80-7278-158-8) tells the story of one of the better-known assassinations in World War II, that of Reinhard Heydrich, the commander of the Reich Security Main Office (RSHA), acting governor of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, and a principal architect of the Holocaust.  The operation was conceived by Czechoslovaks in exile in the UK, but carried out by paratroop commandos in occupied Czechoslovakia in concert with local members of the resistance.  Like many of the operations in occupied Czechoslovakia, most of the people involved ended up dead.  Radio operators, paratroopers and soldiers, resistance members who helped the paratroopers hide, farmers who lent a place to stay or a warm meal, all of them met the same fate once the Nazis discovered that they were in any way associated with the efforts against Germany.  Thankfully for the Czechoslovaks, there were enough people that were willing to risk it all, and two of the paratroopers who had undergone intensive and extensive training in the UK, Jozef Gabčík and Jan Kubiš, were able to execute their plan against Heydrich.  The plan was to shoot him, but that didn’t initially work, so a bomb was tossed toward his car.  The explosion, which happened just outside the back of the car, didn’t kill Heydrich initially, and the attackers had to run away, chased for a short distance by their target.  A week later, Heydrich succumbed to his wounds, and in the coming weeks, Nazi reprisals wiped out complete Czechoslovak towns and eventually also wiped out Gabčík and Kubiš.

The book was an interesting look into one of the more important resistance moments in Czechoslovakia during World War II.  I was a little surprised by the book because I thought it would be a regular book with a lot of text, but it was actually a coffee table book (I read a PDF version of the book available on the Czech Ministry of Defense’s web site) that essentially re-created what seemed to be a museum exhibition about the assassination.  The book was full of pictures of artifacts and didn’t have all that much text.  Still, it was easy to follow what was going on and there was lots of information.  Even though Heydrich was a very important Nazi, I didn’t know a whole lot about this event, and thought this book was informative and explained the run-up and planning, the operation itself, and the sad aftermath well.

   

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Tower of Secrets

I’m not a big movie watcher, so I’ve never seen a Bond movie and pulp fiction rarely interests me (admittedly, I’ve read the original Bourne books — and liked them better than the movies, of course), but I know that bad-guy Russians, usually affiliated with the KGB play a role in at least some of those movies and a lot of fictional spy thrillers.  It, of course, fits well with the Cold War that wasn’t so much a motif through the 1980s, but real life.  It’s an easy way to capture people’s imaginations and draw them into a story.  What has always been even more intriguing than those stories, though, is real life.  I remember Cuban and Eastern European athletes defecting during international competitions and thought that was brave of them.  Movies like Night Crossing regular people defecting had an even larger impact on me.  These people knew the value of freedom and were willing to risk their lives for it.

Tower of Secrets: A Real Life Spy Thriller by Victor Sheymov (ISBN: 978-0-9858930-4-0) is a story more in line with stories of regular people defecting than athletes, but Sheymov wasn’t exactly a regular guy.  He was an officer in one of the Soviet security agencies, the same KGB that was the subject of so much Western fiction.  The KGB he describes in the book often sounds much more like what one imagines working in the IRS or some other boring bureaucratic organization would be like, but he also talks about the things the KGB is more famous for.  Sheymov described his life abroad as an employee of the Soviet Union, working to protect the Soviets’ state secrets and he described his life at home in the Soviet Union.  I found both of them to be rather interesting portrayals of life.  He tells of both the good and the bad, lending an air of credibility to the work.  Eventually, Sheymov and his wife start to question the system they live in.  This is especially shocking to Sheymov himself because he works as part of the system and some of his initial resistance to going against that system is the result of the privilege it has afforded him and his family.  Finally, though, they come to the realization that whatever positives they get from the communist system don’t outweigh the negatives for themselves, their daughter, and for people around them.  The USSR was pretty locked down, though, especially for someone working for the government.  Sheymov and his wife cooked up a plan to get out, but had to make contact with a Western intelligence agency to make that work.  He chose the Americans and ran a risky operation by himself while on a business trip to Poland, where he disguised himself, hopped out a bathroom window, walked into the American embassy, and then returned to his comrades.  Sometime later, more disguises, a train journey, riding in a car with false spaces under the back seats, and smugglers all played a role in getting the Sheymovs to the West.

I enjoyed reading the book.  I found a few similarities to Next Stop Execution: some good descriptions of everyday Soviet life that grounded the book and made it interesting for those of us who weren’t there and some of the discussions about working for what was the world’s most feared intelligence service were neat to read.  I also found the authors’ egoism to be similar.  This book also suffers from being self-published, so there are more than a handful of typos, which can be kind of distracting.  The story of getting that first contact with the Americans set up and then the plan to get the Sheymovs out of the USSR, though, was gripping stuff and well worth the read.  Just like the book’s subtitle promises, it was just like a good story and less like a memoir.  Sheymov’s discussion of his ideological change was also very interesting and it involved various aspects of life.  He accurately noted that communism promised security and justice, but did so at a great price: freedom, both economic and intellectual.  He also grappled with the knowledge that communism has killed many thousands of people, oddly, in the name of equality.  Socialism, in the end, is built for preventing others from succeeding instead of helping people achieve.  These accurate criticisms of socialism and communism are extremely relevant today and serve as the most powerful of Sheymov’s fun and educational book.

   

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Next Stop Execution

If one spends very much time doing anything connected to Russia, the topic of spies will undoubtedly come up.  As one who was born before the Cold War had ended and as one who served a church mission in Russia, Russian spies are something I’ve often heard about.  On my mission, I served in the mission office for a while.  Missionaries who were serving in the city of Kaliningrad (I, sadly, have never been able to visit that intriguing place) once sent the office a copy of an editorial cartoon published in a local newspaper that depicted missionaries for our church asking local Russians about missiles.  Thanks to the Cold War, all Americans knew there was a vast intelligence complex in Russia, bent on suppressing dissent in Russia and recruiting spies abroad.  It seems that the American news has often dealt with the topic, too, thanks to traitors like Robert Hannsen and Edward Snowden or people that catch the media’s attention like Anna Chapman.  There have been a few Russians willing to help the West, though, even if we seem to not hear as much about them.

Next Stop Execution by Oleg Gordievsky is the account of one of those Russians.  The book is an autobiography or memoir, and takes the reader through Gordievsky’s life from his early childhood to his post-defection life in England.  He seemed to have a fairly normal childhood, although his father was somewhat enigmatic since his father worked for Stalin’s intelligence organ, the NKVD.  Gordievsky did well in school and happily joined up when the intelligence services came calling.  He enjoyed being pushed by his training and quickly assimilated to the system, including bureaucratic idiosyncrasies.  He had a talent for languages, and ended up being posted abroad, where he enjoyed life and started to get a taste for Western democracy.  Gordievsky chronicles his home life, including an unsatisfying first marriage and then a second marriage.  He explains how he had suspicions about inefficiencies in the Soviet system and outright lies about Communist doctrine early in his training since he had access to Western publications.  Those doubts didn’t lead to much until he saw the Berlin Wall go up and Czechoslovakia invaded.  After that, he decided to take action and responded positively to overtures from the British and Danish intelligence services.  Eventually, he would go on to spy for quite a while for the UK, before being outed.  He says he figured out on his own that something was about to go down since he was unexpectedly called back to Moscow from London, where he had been posted.  Gordievsky made the decision to get out of Russia then and there.  He left his wife and kids, surviving extended family, and homeland with the help of the UK via a harrowing ride to Finland.  That story includes all the stuff of movies, including being smuggled across borders in the trunk of a car.  Gordievsky’s life in the UK, he says, has been interesting, presenting information to many Western governments, but not without some sadness since his longtime separation from his second wife resulted in them splitting up.

The book was interesting and a good read.  I enjoyed reading about his childhood and schooling and probably could’ve handled more information about everyday life in the post-WWII Soviet Union.  Having lived in Russia as a missionary and having experienced everyday Russia, information expanding my views on that is always nice to have.  I enjoyed reading about some of his disdain for the processes his agencies made their employees go through.  As an American, I often participate in the time-honored tradition of complaining about bureaucracy, and it was good to see that Russians do the same.  The middle part of the book, about his work and home life, was maybe a little less interesting, and I thought a little on the egotistical side.  His philosophical evolution was interesting to read about, especially from the standpoint of current international relations.  He was intrigued by the West because of democracy and economic opportunity.  It is worth asking is we are doing all we can today to preserve those two ideals.  The final section of Gordievsky’s book, about being hunted by his own employer and his escape to freedom, was riveting, although, as mentioned above, a bit sad because of the need to leave his family behind.  That, too, though, is a lesson, not unique to this book, about the value of liberty and the need to sacrifice in order to have liberty.

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Washington’s Spies

After reading George Washington’s Secret Six, I wanted to know more about this ring of spies that did so much for my country.  I didn’t know the story of these early Americans, which was almost unheard of outside of their individual families until the 1920s, when a guy with the interesting last name of Pennypacker recognized that the handwriting in some documents in his Long Island, New York, collection and in some letters in the George Washington collection were the same.  That led him to figuring out just who Samuel Culper was.  He wrote a book, but the story went back into relative obscurity until cable channel AMC decided to make it into a TV series.  As a mostly non-TV watcher, I’d much rather pick up the book.

Washington’s Spies: The Story of America’s First Spy Ring by Alexander Rose (ISBN: 978-0-307-41870-8) delves deep into the history of the Culper Ring.  It starts well before the two main Culper spies came onto the scene by giving the reader the full story of America’s first spy, Nathan Hale, who likely said, “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country,” before being hung, condemned as a traitor to the king.  Hale was friends in college with the first spymaster of the United States, Benjamin Tallmadge, and Hale’s untimely demise served as a very real warning to Tallmadge and others who were contemplating ways to undermine the British in America.  In similar, extremely detailed fashion, Rose takes the reader through the history of the ring from its very beginning to its disbanding as the Revolutionary War wound down.  He talks of its triumphs in warning Washington of various British plans ranging from diversionary marches to producing counterfeit money.  He discusses the struggles the ring had, which ranged from finding someone to shuttle messages back and forth to figuring out ways to encipher writing, all the while avoiding the heavy hand of military justice.  The book also provides a lot of detail on Benedict Arnold’s defection, the effects of which the Culper Ring diminished, and on the British spymaster, John André, who was involved in that unfortunate event, and therefore, hung by the Americans.

This was a book that I really enjoyed reading.  While more academic in nature than the first book I read on the subject (I even had to look up a few words in the dictionary), it was no less engrossing, and it easily captures one’s imagination, transporting the reader back in time and into the shops, taverns, and marshes of colonial New York.  It’s really no surprise this book and its author were relied on heavily by AMC’s producers.  I liked the high level of detail that gave a very complete picture of all the spies, the couriers, and the American and British officers involved in attempts to gather intelligence and to thwart such operations.  There were also detailed explanations of XVIII-century spy tradecraft such as invisible inks and codes and how to break them.  It made me think of some school and Cub Scout activities that I fondly recalled.  The book is a very solid piece of history that relied solely on well-researched history, including a large number of primary sources (The author also spends a few pages discussing some of the more popular theories about the Culper Ring, such as “Agent 355.”  The author jumps on no bandwagons and intelligently discusses the matter, noting that the somewhat popular theory of a woman intimately involved in the ring is unlikely.), on a thoroughly interesting chapter of Revolutionary War history and one that helped me appreciate those who sacrificed to make the United States of America.

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George Washington's Secret Six

I have always appreciated the Revolutionary War, knowing that it was a critical and major part of the process of America becoming America.  There is a very real chance that I would not be who I am today if it were not for the revolution.  It then goes without saying that I am indebted to the great leaders of nascent America.  Sadly, it’s not a big stretch to say that I don’t know enough about them and about the war they fought to secure both their freedom and my freedom.  The subject has always captured my imagination, though, and I am always excited to learn more about how the United States miraculously overcame Great Britain.

George Washington's Secret Six: The Spy Ring That Saved the American Revolution by Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger (ISBN: 978-1-59523-103-1) tells a very interesting story and gives some important insights into just how Washington and the other rebels upset one of the greatest empires in the world.  Washington was not opposed at all to spying, and the methods he was willing to employ were rather cutting edge for his time.  Importantly, the American forces were first to plunge into the spy game, so the British, who eventually put off the old ways of thinking about spying and the old ways of spying itself, had to play catch up.  Since New York was of such great importance to the warring armies, getting solid intelligence out of the Tory-held area was critical to the American cause.  Washington’s chief of intelligence, Benjamin Tallmadge, was able to recruit six agents in New York, known as the Culper Ring, after the pseudonyms of the main agents, who then provided the Continental Army with key information throughout the war.  They were able to help thwart a British attack on French forces friendly to the American rebels, they helped capture traitor extraordinaire Benedict Arnold, they helped Washington avoid defeat by warning him not to chase after what was a British diversion, and they helped the Continental government fight against British attempts to infuse America with counterfeit money.  Kilmeade and Yaeger provide a number of details about those involved in the spy ring, the officers on both sides, and the various events they were involved in from the ring’s inception to the end of the war.

I enjoyed the book and was pleased to learn a number of new things.  The book was relatively light reading, though, which was slightly disappointing, but expected considering the author with top billing used to be a cable news morning show host.  I liked getting a look at a part of the Revolutionary War that I was unaware of before, especially considering its relative importance.  This book spent a bit of time on each of the main characters in the spy ring, including one the authors (and some others, it turns out) refer to as “Agent 355.”  There are various theories as to who this person is, but the authors of this book leaned heavily toward the idea that this person was a woman involved in the spy trade.  It very well could have been, but I remained unconvinced and thought that this was more of a ploy to appeal to today’s reader.  Overall, I would’ve liked a more academic treatment of the subject, but found the book to be a great introduction to a fascinating piece of American history.

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KGB

Russia was an enigmatic Communist nation when I was a kid.  What little I knew of the USSR centered around the lack of freedom the people had.  I vividly remember my one-time conception of how the centrally planned economy and complete lack of freedom would result in some people being condemned to a lifetime of emptying garbage cans in some forlorn office building somewhere in the Soviet Union.  Reality, as I understand it, was slightly more forgiving.  One thing that fascinated me was the state-sponsored oppressors or the secret police that seemed necessary to keep the Russians (I knew nothing of the almost two hundred ethnic groups in the Soviet Union) under control.  It was so different from the life I knew in the U.S. and it involved secrecy, spies, and a powerful military that seemed more fiction than fact.

KGB: The Secret Work of Soviet Secret Agents by John Barron tells some of the stories of the main Soviet agency of oppression and secrecy, the KGB.  It provides an overview of all the Soviet intelligence agencies, but focuses on the KGB, which the author assessed to be the brains behind all of them.  After the more academic portion of the book, it recounts a few fantastic stories.  Most of the stories, a few which I had read elsewhere previously, had to do with the stuff of movies.  The book contains the stories of Americans who betrayed their country and of Russians who betrayed theirs.  They are fascinating accounts full of sneaking around big cities, breaking into vaults, offers of money, international intrigue, “seductresses” (as promised by the paperback version’s typically sensationalist cover art), and, of course, spies.  It was interesting to read of a disgruntled U.S. Army soldier, his former prostitute wife, and his giving the Russians access to something they likely figured was impossible to access.  I was also really intrigued by the stories of Russians and other eastern Europeans who risked it all to do what they figured was their part in the battle against authoritarianism and for liberty.  One interesting story was that of a Czech who was sent to Canada by the Russians, but who ultimately decided that all he had been taught in years of intense training was not true now that he’d been in the West and seen how things really worked.

The book was really interesting to me since I have an interest in all things Russia.  It is, of course, dated, since it’s about the Soviet Union and the KGB instead of Russia and the FSB, but there are two reasons I thought it still seemed relevant, besides being fun to read because of the incredible stories (it’s Bourne, but it was real).  First, Russia today is closer to the Soviet Union than it’s been since the fall of Communism.  The types of operations described in the book are likely going on right now.  Second, and probably more important, the KGB and its tactics are part of any authoritarian government.  Unfortunately, the U.S. is slowly sliding down that slope.  As government grows and grows, it seeks to retain power, usually done by taking away the rights of the people.  People inherently desire freedom, though, so to sustain a government that does not have the freedom of the people as its raison d’être, that same government turns to oppression and the elimination of liberty to preserve itself.  We must always be vigilant about what we are allowing the government to do lest we become the victims described in this book.

This work, including all text, photographs, and other original work, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives 3.0 License and is copyrighted © MMXIV John Pruess.

Spy Dust

The world of spies, probably because it’s so shrouded in mystery, has always been intriguing.  I think this holds true for most people, as evidenced by the abundance of books advertising themselves as historically accurate as well as the standard fiction.  Both genres have seen success as movies.  My interest in spies typically does not dwell in the world of fiction, but in the realm of history and current events, although I did read and mostly enjoy the original Bourne trilogy.  World War II and the Cold War have always interested me, and that is also true as far as spying goes.  I actually heard about the book Spy Dust a few years ago, but never read it, thinking the title was maybe just a little bit too outlandish to really be about something that was real.  (It turns out that it really is a real thing and something not just used by intelligence services, but police departments, too.)

In Spy Dust: Two Masters of Disguise Reveal the Tools and Operations That Helped Win the Cold War (ISBN: 978-0-7434-2853-8) by Antonio and Jonna Mendez with Bruce Henderson, spy dust itself plays a rather minor role.  The two authors and their craft, disguises, get the majority of the attention.  The story follows both authors in their CIA careers a few years before they came to know about spy dust through an operation that saw them defeat the theretofore undefeated powder.  Antonio was a master of disguise with years and years of experience; Jonna more of an extremely talented up-and-coming star in the CIA.  The book focuses on their teamwork to exfiltrate someone they claim was a well-connected and high-placed Soviet spying for the U.S.  The operation included a handful of Americans and the Russian and his family.  They used all their disguise know-how, which includes a lot of things that aren’t so much about disguises, but simply about how one ports oneself and how people are not able to notice every little thing if what one is doing mostly follows the normal routine.  The daring operation defeated the Russians’ spy dust and got everyone out of the country safely.

In general, I enjoyed the book.  I thought the main story as well as a couple of the smaller operations discussed in the build-up to the one that gave the book its title were very interesting.  When they finally got to telling about that final operation, it was actually pretty exciting reading, and I think I whipped through it pretty quickly with great anticipation, even though it’s obvious the book wouldn’t have been written had the operation gone south.  My big complaint with the book was that it was slow in some parts.  This is especially true when it comes to discussions of the romantic relationship between the two authors, who eventually married.  They talk about it having an impact on their work, but that still seemed to me to be a minor detail and not something that needed to take up scores of pages.  Maybe shorter books don’t sell?  I personally thought the big operation in Moscow could’ve handled a little more detail, and with the discussion of the authors’ personal lives left out, the book would’ve really been cool.  It was an interesting look at one small but important piece of the Cold War, but probably could’ve more than just interesting.

This work, including all text, photographs, and other original work, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives 3.0 License and is copyrighted © MMXIV John Pruess.