Britain Hired a Woman to Trick Its Own Wartime Spies - And One Told Her Almost Everything!

On the 7th of December 1942, a young Belgian man named José Tinchant was waiting in a café in Liverpool. He was training to become a secret agent for Britain's Special Operations Executive, and had been told to meet a contact as part of an undercover training exercise. But instead of the man he was expecting, a young woman approached him and introduced herself as Christine Collard, a French journalist.

She explained that she had been asked to help him, and José apparently saw no reason to be suspicious. They spent much of the day together, drinking coffee in cafés, going to the cinema and eventually having dinner. Unfortunately for José, his new acquaintance wasn't quite who she claimed to be.

Her real name was Marie Christine Chilver, and she was working for British intelligence under the codename Agent Fifi. Her job was to find out whether trainee spies could keep their secrets when approached by someone they thought they could trust. And José wasn't doing particularly well!

By the end of the day, he had revealed details about his background, training and intended mission in Belgium. Marie reported everything to her superiors. José had previously been regarded as a promising trainee, but following her report, the SOE ended his employment.

Marie had quite an interesting background herself. Born in London in 1920, she grew up in Latvia before travelling to Paris to study. After the German occupation of France, she was interned at Besançon, but managed to escape and eventually reached Britain in 1941, having helped a wounded British airman along the way.

British intelligence initially had doubts about her story, but after questioning her, they recognised that she possessed some rather useful skills. In 1942, she began working for the Special Operations Executive, testing the men and women who hoped to operate behind enemy lines.

She travelled around wartime Britain, meeting unsuspecting trainees in hotels, cafés and restaurants. Some managed to keep their mouths shut, while others were surprisingly willing to discuss things they really should have kept to themselves.

Her work remained largely unknown for decades, until her secret wartime files were made public in September 2014.

For the unfortunate José, one friendly afternoon in Liverpool had been enough to bring his career as a secret agent to an end.

Image info:

Don't Forget That Walls Have Ears! (1942), by Cyril Kenneth Bird, known as Fougasse. British Ministry of Information. Australian War Memorial, reference ARTV02448. Public domain.

William the Conqueror Took English Soldiers Across the Channel - And They Burned Towns for Him

In my last medieval post, we followed William the Conqueror’s invasion of Scotland in 1072, when King Malcolm III agreed to make peace and handed over hostages, including his son Duncan. William returned to England having dealt with another threat to his authority, but trouble was also developing across the Channel.

 

Before conquering England in 1066, William had been Duke of Normandy, and he had spent years trying to extend his power into neighbouring territories. One of these was Maine, a county to the south of Normandy. William had taken control of it in 1063, but while he was occupied with England, the people of Maine had rebelled against Norman rule.

 

The citizens of Le Mans, the county’s principal city, had established a commune through which they hoped to govern their own affairs. They had also sought support from Fulk IV, Count of Anjou, who had ambitions in the region. William could not afford to lose Maine, particularly when its position made it important to the security of Normandy.

 

In early 1073, William crossed the Channel with an army of Norman and English soldiers. Only seven years had passed since William defeated Harold at Hastings, yet Englishmen were now fighting in his army, helping him recover territory on the continent.

 

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that the English soldiers caused considerable destruction during the expedition. Vineyards were ruined, towns were burned, and land was laid waste as William’s army advanced. The people of Maine were now experiencing the destruction that William’s armies had inflicted on parts of England.

 

William forced the surrender of Fresnay and Beaumont, while the lord of Sillé submitted before a siege could begin. He then advanced towards Le Mans, where the inhabitants surrendered without a prolonged siege. William agreed to respect certain existing rights and customs of the city.

 

William had regained control of Maine by the spring of 1073. His eldest son Robert, later known as Robert Curthose, held a claim to the title of count, although Norman control of the county would continue to be challenged in the years ahead.

 

William had now spent seven years fighting to secure his position on both sides of the Channel. What I find particularly interesting is that English soldiers were helping the very man who had conquered their country. We do not know how every soldier felt about serving him, but their involvement shows just how much had changed since 1066.

 

And while William was occupied with events in Normandy and Maine, Edgar Ætheling, the English prince who had once been considered for the throne, had not disappeared from the story.

 

Does it surprise you that English soldiers were fighting for William just seven years after the Norman Conquest?

 

☕ Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together!

 

 

Image info:

The former Palace of the Counts of Maine, Le Mans. Drawing by Louis Moullin, 1854. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

 

British Raiders Stole Three Enemy Vessels While Their Officers Were Enjoying a Dinner Party

On the night of the 14th of January 1942, British raiders were preparing to steal three enemy vessels from a harbour off the coast of West Africa. There was one serious problem. The ships were anchored in Spanish territory, and Spain was neutral during the Second World War. If the British were caught, there could be serious diplomatic consequences.

The harbour was at Santa Isabel on the island of Fernando Po, now known as Bioko. Among the vessels anchored there was the Italian merchant ship Duchessa d'Aosta, which had taken refuge when Italy entered the war in June 1940. Nearby were two smaller German vessels, the tug Likomba and the barge Bibundi. British intelligence had been watching them for some time.

The plan was organised by the Special Operations Executive, with Major Gus March-Phillipps commanding the raiding force. An agent named Richard Lippett had been working on the island, gathering information about the ships and their crews. He discovered that the officers enjoyed social gatherings ashore, and this gave the British an idea. Why not arrange a dinner party to keep them occupied while the raid took place?

On the 11th of January, two British tugs, Vulcan and Nuneaton, left Lagos in Nigeria carrying the raiding party. During the journey, the men practised boarding ships and using folding kayaks. Their instructions were to enter the harbour after dark, board the three vessels and tow them away before anyone could organise a defence.

Late on the 14th of January, the tugs approached Santa Isabel. Ashore, twelve Italian officers and two German officers were enjoying their evening at the dinner party. Meanwhile, the British raiders entered the harbour and began boarding the vessels. Explosive charges were attached to the anchor chains, and tow ropes were secured. The remaining crewmen offered little resistance, and the raiders managed to capture all three vessels without firing a shot.

By the early hours of the 15th of January, the British were towing their prizes out to sea. HMS Violet was later involved in intercepting the vessels offshore, helping to support the British account that they had been captured outside Spanish waters. The Spanish authorities were furious when they discovered what had happened, and Britain faced accusations of violating their neutrality.

The operation, codenamed Postmaster, had succeeded. The Duchessa d'Aosta was later brought into British service under the name Empire Yukon. It had been a daring gamble, and one that could easily have gone wrong. But a dinner party, two tugs and a small group of determined men had been enough to carry it off.

Image info:

State Library of Queensland / Wikimedia Commons - Public Domain. Italian merchant ship SS Duchessa d’Aosta, later captured during Operation Postmaster in January 1942.

Elizabeth I’s Former Favourite Marched Through London Against Her Government - But Almost Nobody Joined Him

In our last Tudor post, we followed Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, as he returned from Ireland in September 1599 without Elizabeth I’s permission. His campaign had been unsuccessful, and his unexpected appearance in the queen's private chamber had only made matters worse. Essex had been one of her favourites for years, but things were now very different.

In June 1600, Essex was deprived of his major public offices and ordered to remain under confinement. He was eventually allowed his freedom, although Elizabeth would not permit him to return to court. Later that year, she also refused to renew his valuable monopoly on sweet wines, which had provided him with a considerable income.

Essex was already heavily in debt, and he blamed men such as Robert Cecil for turning Elizabeth against him. By early 1601, he was gathering supporters at Essex House in London. He was convinced that the queen was being badly advised and that something needed to be done about it.

On the 7th of February, some of his followers arranged a special performance of Shakespeare's Richard II at the Globe Theatre. The play concerned a king who was removed from his throne. Whether the performance was intended to encourage support for Essex is still debated by historians.

The following morning, several senior officials arrived at Essex House to find out what he was doing. Rather than cooperate, Essex detained them and set off into London with around 200 armed supporters. He claimed that he was acting in the queen's interests and warned that her advisers were plotting against him.

But the people of London did not respond as he had hoped. Few came forward to support him, and his men were eventually confronted by forces loyal to the queen. Essex returned to his house, where he surrendered later that day.

On the 19th of February 1601, Essex and his close friend, the Earl of Southampton, were tried for treason. Both were found guilty and sentenced to death, although Southampton was reprieved and remained in prison.

Essex was not so fortunate. On the 25th of February, he was beheaded at the Tower of London. He was 35 years old.

Only a few years earlier, Essex had been one of the most influential men at Elizabeth's court. Now he had lost everything, and his attempt to regain his position had cost him his life.

In our next Tudor post, we will look at Elizabeth's final years and the growing question of who would inherit her throne.

Do you think Essex genuinely believed he was helping Elizabeth, or had his ambition clouded his judgement?

☕ Have a cuppa and let's discover history together!

Image info:

Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, c.1597. National Portrait Gallery, London. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Germans Helped a Captured Polish Spy Escape - But He Ended Up Working Against Them

In November 1941, German intelligence officers arrested a Polish spy named Roman Czerniawski in occupied Paris. For almost a year, he had been running a secret intelligence network that passed information about German military movements to the Allies. Now his organisation had been uncovered, and many of the people working for him were in German hands.

Roman had been an officer and pilot in the Polish Air Force before the war. After Poland's defeat in 1939, he made his way to France, where he continued working against Germany. By late 1940, he had helped establish an intelligence network called Interallié, which eventually included around 150 agents and informants.

Unfortunately, the Germans discovered the organisation. One of Roman's closest colleagues, Mathilde Carré, began cooperating with German intelligence and revealed information about the network. Roman was imprisoned, and the Germans soon realised that he might be more useful to them alive than dead.

An officer from the Abwehr, Germany's military intelligence service, offered Roman a deal. If he agreed to work as a German spy in Britain, arrangements would be made to protect members of his captured network. Roman agreed, but he would ultimately use the arrangement against the Germans.

In July 1942, the Germans arranged an elaborate escape from captivity. A staged accident involving a prison convoy made it appear that Roman had escaped, although he was actually being transported separately under German supervision. He travelled through Spain and Gibraltar before reaching Britain. He was questioned by Allied intelligence officers and eventually revealed that he had agreed to work for the Abwehr.

British intelligence was understandably cautious. After all, the Germans had deliberately sent him to Britain, and they needed to be certain where his loyalties lay. However, Roman eventually joined MI5's Double Cross system, which used agents believed to be working for Germany to send misleading information back to the enemy.

He was given the codename BRUTUS and began passing carefully prepared reports to his German contacts. Some information was genuine, which helped maintain his credibility, while other details were deliberately misleading.

By 1944, Roman was helping with the deception surrounding the Allied invasion of France. His reports supported the false impression that the main invasion would take place near the Pas-de-Calais, even after Allied troops had landed in Normandy on the 6th of June. The hope was that Germany would continue holding forces back rather than sending them to reinforce Normandy.

Roman was one of several double agents involved in this remarkable deception, but his contribution was important. The Germans continued to trust information coming from a man they believed they had successfully recruited.

Roman survived the war and settled in Britain. He died in London on the 26th of April 1985, aged 75.

I find it quite extraordinary that the Germans went to so much trouble to help Roman reach Britain, believing they were gaining a valuable spy. Instead, they had helped put one of their opponents in a position to deceive them.

Image info:

Roman Czerniawski, later known as Agent BRUTUS. Centralne Archiwum Wojskowe / Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain.

Queen Victoria Had Nine Children - But Pregnancy Was One Part of Marriage She Dreaded

In my last Victorian post, we looked at Queen Victoria's wedding to Prince Albert in February 1840. The young couple were very much in love, but Victoria was not quite so enthusiastic about everything that came with married life. As Queen, she was expected to have children and secure the succession, preferably with a son. Yet pregnancy was something she came to dread.

Victoria was only 20 when she married Albert on the 10th of February 1840, and their first child arrived just nine months later. She had wanted more time to enjoy being newly married, although her feelings about that first pregnancy were not entirely unhappy. Princess Victoria, affectionately known as Vicky, was born on the 21st of November 1840. Then, on the 9th of November 1841, Albert Edward, the future Edward VII, arrived.

Albert thoroughly enjoyed family life. He played with the children, took an interest in their education and had quite definite ideas about how they should be brought up. Victoria also wanted a large family, but she found the constant pregnancies difficult. They interfered with her duties and left her feeling that she had lost some of her independence. Albert increasingly helped with government papers, eventually taking on much of the work of her private secretary.

Victoria was remarkably frank about motherhood in her private letters. She described feeling as though her wings had been clipped by pregnancy and even compared women who were constantly having babies to rabbits or guinea pigs! She was not particularly fond of newborn babies either, once describing them as rather froglike. She did love her children, although she was often happier with them once they were a little older.

Childbirth frightened her too. When Prince Leopold was born in April 1853, Dr John Snow administered chloroform to ease her pain. Victoria was enormously grateful for it and used it again when Princess Beatrice was born in April 1857.

By the age of 37, Victoria had given birth to nine children, all of whom survived into adulthood.

I find it interesting that Victoria could love her husband, want a large family and still thoroughly dislike being pregnant. The happy family portraits that we see today certainly don't tell the whole story of what motherhood was like for the Queen.

Image info:

Franz Xaver Winterhalter, The Royal Family in 1846. Royal Collection, RCIN 405413. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Belgian Woman Who Helped 118 People Escape from German-Occupied Europe During the Second World War

Andrée de Jongh was a 23 year old woman from Belgian who helped Allied airmen to escape from occupied Europe during the Second World War. She was known as Dédée and she helped to organise an escape route that would become known as the Comet Line.

Andrée was born on the 30th of November 1916 in Schaerbeek, near Brussels. Before the war, she worked as a commercial artist and trained as a volunteer ambulance worker. When the Germans invaded Belgium in May 1940, she began helping wounded Allied soldiers who had been left behind. She soon became involved in finding ways to get them out of the country.

In 1941, Andrée and Arnold Deppé began organising an escape route through Belgium and France to Spain. They relied on local people who were willing to hide servicemen in their homes, provide false papers and help them on their way. There was quite a lot involved, as the men had to travel through German-occupied territory before crossing the Pyrenees into neutral Spain.

Andrée went on many of these journeys herself. She would accompany the men by train and then help guide them across the mountains. Considering the risks involved, I was surprised to learn that she kept returning to Belgium to collect more men. She is credited with personally helping 118 people reach safety, including around 80 Allied airmen.

On the 15th of January 1943, Andrée was arrested near the Spanish border after someone betrayed her to the German authorities. She was interrogated and later sent to Ravensbrück concentration camp, followed by Mauthausen. Her father, Frédéric, was also involved in helping the Resistance, but sadly he was arrested and executed by the Germans.

Andrée survived her imprisonment and was liberated in 1945. The Comet Line had continued operating after her arrest, with other volunteers taking over the work. After the war, she trained as a nurse and spent many years working with people suffering from leprosy in Africa.

She died on the 13th of October 2007, aged 90.

Something I keep coming across when researching the Second World War is how many ordinary people became involved in helping others, often knowing very well what would happen if they were caught. Andrée was one of them, although the number of people she personally helped is quite extraordinary.

Had you heard of Dédée and the Comet Line before?

Image info:

Andrée de Jongh, February 1946. Photographer unknown. Public domain (UK Crown copyright), via Wikimedia Commons.