11
In the autumn and winter of 1943, a series of conferences were held to take stock of the general war position on the Allied side, the first taking place in Moscow in October. In November, Anthony Eden, on his return from Moscow, met the Turkish Foreign Minister, M. Numan Menemencioglu, in Cairo, where the case for Turkey’s early entry into the war was put during three days. The British pushed for a minimum of the free use of Turkish air bases.
The Turks wanted to know what was expected of their army, and they did not want to merely become an Allied air base. For the Turks, the British proposition felt like entering the war at the ‘eleventh hour and was clearly distasteful’, like the ‘unheroic role which Mussolini had played’. Yet, on the other hand, they were uneasy about the German power that had been clearly demonstrated on their border in the Dodecanese. Also there was Stalin to be considered; the Turks, as ever, never trusted the Russians.
It was decided the Turkish party would return home and report to the government in Ankara. There, after a long debate, Sir Hughe was informed Turkey would enter the war. But, and there was always a ‘but’ in dealings with the Turks, this could only take place if Turkey was adequately defended. Given the amount of supplies already provided, Sir Hughe felt ‘the Turkish view lacked justification’.1
The Turkish president was invited to attend the next Cairo conference, scheduled for December following the Tehran meeting, where he would meet with Roosevelt and Churchill. Sir Hughe conveyed the invitation; he recalled a similar invitation the previous year for a meeting in Cyprus, before he had been informed: ‘it was unconstitutional for the President to leave the country’. So he felt there was little prospect of the Turkish president attending. Yet the reply in this case was positive, and was a clear ‘indication of their attitude’.
If the president was being asked to the Cairo conference just to hear the decisions made in Tehran, then he would not go. But if the meeting was ‘an opportunity for free and unprejudged discussions’ as to Turkey’s role in ‘the common cause, the president would accept’. The assurances requested in this case were given.2
The president’s party left on 3 December and the delegates in Cairo were housed in luxury ‘and most hospitably provided with everything they could require, from sherry and cigars downward’.3 Not that their arrival was unexpected, for on 14 November the Egyptian Gazette ran a story that Mena House, a former royal residence, was to be used for important talks. Chester Morrison of the Chicago Sun newspaper said: ‘Everything about this whole business was very secret except that nearly everybody knew about it.’4
Even the leaders took in the sights, with Churchill taking Roosevelt to see the Pyramids of Giza, with the obligatory Egyptian dragoman and a large escort. The next day the dragoman sold his story to several papers, making more money out of an afternoon’s work than he did in a year. Major A.W. Sansom of Field Security in Cairo was glad to see the back of them: ‘Finally they all flew off, the enclave was dismantled, and Cairo returned to normal.’5 So much was going on that the British felt, and hoped, the Germans would be confused; after all, they had broadcast late in November that Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin had met there ‘in a tent’ beside the Pyramids. What the Germans broadcast and what they knew a few days later, thanks to Cicero, was very different.6
The Turks remained convinced throughout that the nation’s real role would be to provide air and naval bases, and this would expose them to land and air attack. Sir Hughe admitted:
It is impossible to deny that there was ground for these suspicions.
Unless I am mistaken the Tehran decision as to Turkey’s early entry into the war was never formally communicated to the Turks.7
Yet, in private, the Turks did not feel threatened by an invasion along their Balkan border, given the ebbing strength of the Axis powers.
Britain had already been engaged in training Turkish Air Force pilots and improving their airfields, with Operation Saturn basing RAF squadrons and radar at these bases. Initially, forty-nine squadrons were envisaged, but with Operation Overlord barely six months away, even Churchill concluded this commitment had to be reduced to no more than twenty.
The Turks felt the amount was inadequate to cover western Anatolia and vital parts of the country.8 This was primarily a result of their experience in the First World War, in which, they believed, they had been tricked into the war by Germany. Turkish interests had barely been considered during the conflict. Thus the Cairo talks ground toward stalemate.
The issue of British technicians within Turkey, mainly RAF personnel, was another area of dispute. Britain wanted 2,000 men described as ‘infiltrators’; Turkey felt this was far too many, close to a declaration of war, and that these people were looked on with suspicion in the country. Thus Ankara insisted on no more than 250. A long meeting took place on 18 December between Sir Hughe and Menemencioglu, and the British ambassador believed he had negotiated an increase in the number of people, but it soon became clear Turkey would question the need ‘for every single technician’.9
The Turkish government also flatly refused the request for a visit by Britain’s three regional service chiefs. Sir Hughe wrote: ‘Whatever may have been at the back of the Turkish mind, it was on these obstacles that hopes of immediate agreement broke down’.
At last the conference ended with the arrangement that: ‘the Turkish Government should state their attitude by February 15th, 1944, the immediate point for decision being whether they would allow the use by us of their air bases’.10 Churchill was reluctant to allow his Balkan strategy to fail, so he kept his officials badgering the Ankara government.
The British military mission, led by Air Marshal Sir John Linnell, spent most of January 1944 trying to find a way through the ‘Turkish Labyrinth’, but at last gave up and withdrew. These talks were deliberately prolonged to mislead the Germans. Much material earmarked for Turkey was diverted to air bases in Italy, where it could be put to better use. However, thanks to Cicero, the Germans were already aware of the failure of British plans.11 Von Papen wrote:
We obtained indisputable evidence of Turkey’s attitude to increasing Allied pressure. We also learnt that the possibility of an Allied attack on the Balkans through Salonica could be ruled out. This was of great importance, because it meant there was no need for the considerable dispersal of our defensive forces which the indifferent communications in this region would otherwise have made necessary. The Supreme Command now realized that the only real threat with which it had to contend was the invasion of France …12
It does appear that, at the least, Menemencioglu was playing off both sides in a misguided attempt to extend Turkish borders at Bulgarian expense. However, Britain took this stand to be pro-German and began to cool relations. Sir Hughe, often supportive of the Turks, acknowledged that ‘we made no attempt to conceal our disappointment’ from the Turks.13
Menemencioglu was at the centre of another crisis at the end of December, which indirectly got Moyzisch into hot water. Alerted by the Cicero documents, Von Papen felt he had no choice but to protest directly to Menemencioglu over the British construction of radio aircraft guidance stations and more British technicians arriving in the country. Von Papen tried to cover his source by saying he ‘had heard the British air attaché or one of his colleagues had mentioned such plans to certain neutrals’.14 He drew attention to likely German reprisals that could include the bombing of Istanbul.
The minister said he felt Von Papen was misinformed. The same day, Menemencioglu informed Sir Hughe what had been said and alerted him to a possible leak. As we now know, Sir Hughe in turn alerted the British Foreign Office that Von Papen knew much more ‘than was good for him’.15
Moyzisch was reading this signal less than thirty hours later, after developing the film, and he ‘had no illusions about the probable consequences’ once Berlin realised he had disobeyed orders about showing documents to the ambassador. Moyzisch considered not sending in the roll of film covering these events, but then he would have to replace the £10,000 paid for it. He even thought about trying to raise the money himself to cover this, but knew he would have difficulty obtaining that amount of sterling. He had no choice but to send in the documents and films: he ‘sealed the documents in the usual envelope. I felt as though I were posting off my own death-warrant.’16
Yet, in effect, little happened, though Moyzisch was unnerved by ‘Kaltenbrunner’s icy silence’. A week later, a letter arrived from the SD leader, marked ‘To Be Opened Personally’. The letter informed him that he would be held ‘responsible for a gross breach of discipline in disobeying strict orders’ − essentially, a written warning. Ribbentrop had nothing to say about the situation, which clearly annoyed Moyzisch.17
Von Papen was left largely on his own with the information: ‘At no time did I receive from either Hitler or Ribbentrop any instructions …’ This was a situation he found bizarre in the extreme: ‘Any other Foreign Minister would tell an ambassador forwarding such priceless information what they thought of it and what steps they expected him to take.’18
Moyzisch concluded that Cicero was in danger, as the British had been made aware of the leak, although ‘these suspicions did not seem to point in any particular, let alone the right direction’. There was another cause for concern that Moyzisch was unaware of − Cicero’s tangled love life.19