It is always unsafe to apply too literally the experiences of one war to the changed circumstances of another, especially so where one is concerned with the art of deception whose successful practice must, in any circumstances, depend on qualities of mind rather than on some fixed code of rules. The conclusions reached in this final chapter are therefore only offered with that important reservation. The most striking object lesson of FORTITUDE is its revelation of the capabilities and limitations of the different channels that were used to deceive the enemy. In 1943 it was supposed that the story would be told by physical and confirmed by special means. In fact the result was obtained by a process almost diametrically opposite. On reflection, it is hard to see how this could have been otherwise. Visual misdirection conveys its message by inference. On the field of battle such methods may suffice. The group of dummy tanks or the simulated noise of a mechanised column may well draw the enemy to the wrong flank. But where the sphere of one’s activities extends over half a continent and one is operating from a base far removed from the enemy’s centres of intelligence, something more is needed. Even here visual misdirection may in certain cases exert a positive influence. The bombing programme of the Allied Air Forces on the Pas de Calais achieved an undoubted success. Similarly one was justified in hoping that the display of dummy craft might have advanced the interests of FORTITUDE to some extent, although in the event this hope was not fulfilled. Generally speaking, however, mere physical misrepresentation on the ground placed there for the benefit of the hostile spy or reconnoitring aircraft allows of too many alternative interpretations to provide a satisfactory vehicle for the conveyance of elaborate strategic intentions, even if the spies and aircraft are there to look. Indeed it is not easy to imagine how certain vital aspects of a story of this nature, the disclosure of commanders’ names for example, can be imparted at all by such means. At first sight one would say that wireless deception was subject to none of these limitations, but here again, in practice, certain difficulties arise. Even if one has the resources and the skill to disclose false intentions by controlled leakage, one can scarcely hope that the enemy will always be listening at the right moment, nor can one be sure that faulty reception may not prevent him from hearing if he is listening. The lesser special means channels, based on the spreading of rumour, are, as we have already seen, too diffuse to be relied upon. There is only one method which combines the qualities of precision, certainty and speed necessary for the conduct of strategic deception at long range and over an extended period, and that is the double-cross agent. He can tell his story in detail and without shadow of equivocation, knowing that it will reach its destination quickly and unaltered. By destroying the enemy’s spy system in this country, thus establishing a degree of security which made the operation of controlled agents possible, and by setting up in their place GARBO, BRUTUS and their fellows, the British Security Service laid the foundation for all that FORTITUDE achieved. One is indeed driven to the conclusion that until these conditions are secured, it will be useless to embark upon a project of the magnitude and duration of FORTITUDE. Nor can one regard this initial task as completed when one has overcome the danger of serious leakage and persuaded a number of enemy spies to change their allegiance. As with other forms of attack, deception requires its vanguard. GARBO’s case officer always held that it was not merely Kuehlenthal in Madrid, but the Abwehr in Berlin that he sought to win and through them the OKW. Once a man has sponsored the deception of his opponent, he will hesitate to admit his mistake even after his suspicions have been aroused. In this way a silent body of support is built up in the enemy camp as, one by one in ascending scale, the members of the opposing hierarchy accept the credibility of their renegade agents. This process can be more easily accomplished if one happens to be at war with a country which labours under a tyrannical government, where all loyalties are suspect and genuine error may be visited with dire penalties.
Although FORTITUDE would in the event have worked just as well if there had been no physical deception at all, it would be unwise to assume that such devices can be dispensed with in the strategic field. The majority of them should, however, be regarded less as instruments of deception than as security measures to be taken at those points where there is a danger of the enemy breaking through the security ring, so that if he does he will find nothing to contradict and if possible something to confirm the story which is being told by the controlled agents. It is a matter of insurance and in this as in all cases where risks are run, one is not necessarily justified in allowing a policy to lapse because no claim has been made. On the other hand there is everything to be said against over-insuring, for physical deception is far more costly than special means, yet it is the latter which carries the main burden of the operation. Furthermore, it lets many more into the secret and so magnifies one’s security problems. An accurate estimate of the risks involved is thus of the utmost value in framing a deception policy and the services and ministries affected should be prepared to assess these risks and revise their assessments from time to time, remembering when they do so that the temptation to over-insure is always great, for while an over-estimate and the waste to which it gives rise will usually pass unnoticed, an under-estimate will, if things go wrong, receive the censure which is accorded to any miscalculation in war.
We may ask ourselves, in passing, why the German Intelligence proved so remarkably ineffective in the late war where the British Isles were concerned. As we have already seen, those measures which brought GARBO and BRUTUS into existence at the same time removed the real German spy from the scene. Absence of air reconnaissance can be explained by the decisive Allied superiority in that element. The failure of wireless intercept is more difficult to understand. Unfortunately, in spite of prolonged search, no trace has been found of the records of the German intercept service in the Western European theatre. Should these ever be discovered, they would undoubtedly throw valuable light on the subject. As it is one can only fall back on conjecture. Two possible explanations have been offered for the poor results obtained. On the one hand it has been suggested that the enemy concentrated the bulk of his intercept apparatus on the battle fronts where it operated at short range, with the result that the United Kingdom was not adequately ‘covered’, and on the other that the enormous volume of wireless traffic in this country presented a pattern so confused as to make intercept extremely difficult.
Given the conditions which governed the conduct of FORTITUDE, is there anything useful which our recent experience can teach us about the writing of the deception plan? Since it will presumably fall to the lot of special means to play the leading role, it becomes a matter of the first importance to see that the plan does not compel the controlled agents to say things which will impair their credit while the operation is still in progress. It should therefore provide them in advance with explanations upon which they can fall back when their initial forecasts have been disproved by events, as is always bound to occur with deception. As we have already seen, an ‘escape clause’ is not so essential where physical devices alone are employed since the enemy may attribute the misinformation to imperfections in his own intelligence machine. Thus the original FORTITUDE plans, written mainly from the point of view of the physical deceiver, paid scant attention to the future well-being of the controlled agents. Witness the proposed employment of the 3rd British Infantry Division in FORTITUDE NORTH, which would have placed the whole framework of deception in jeopardy as soon as that formation landed on D Day. Contrast this with Fourth Army’s move to Yorkshire during the following autumn in support of TROLLEY-CAR. By that time we had come to realise the dominant part which the double-cross agents were playing in the execution of the plan and the consequent importance of safeguarding their position. On that occasion, before the Fourth Army had left the Eastern counties, we had already devised an alternative story to account for the move after it had become apparent that no embarkation from the Humber was intended. Looking back on the broader aspects of the operation, we find in FORTITUDE SOUTH II a sufficient release from the embarrassments created by FORTITUDE SOUTH I. Yet the new plan was evolved late in the day and long after the original one had been set in motion. A new commander was brought to Europe in time to replace Patton only through the very prompt co-operation of General Marshall, while the arrival of Fourteenth Army had to be ante-dated by more than a month, a procedure which, unless handled with care, may place some strain upon the enemy’s credulity. It should always be one’s aim to compose the lie and the ‘let out’ at the same time, so that from the moment that the plan begins to operate, every action can be so devised as to be capable, in retrospect, of alternative interpretations.
A further lesson which FORTITUDE brings home is the danger of treating a deceptive operation too literally. What is or is not possible matters less than what the enemy believes to be possible. We have a good example in the decision to use the Western Scottish ports for embarking the troops which were to take part in FORTITUDE NORTH. It is perfectly true that the Eastern ports had not the necessary capacity for the shipping required, but the Germans do not seem to have been aware of the fact. By abandoning the more obvious proposal in deference to our own administrative staff we removed the threat altogether. One is always inclined to credit the enemy with knowing as much about one’s own affairs as one does oneself, but if the conditions precedent to the running of double-cross agents obtain, this will be far from the truth. A reasonable and straightforward story, even if it involves manœuvres which cannot in reality be performed, is often to be preferred to a more complex one which is capable of execution, but whose objects cannot readily be discerned.
If obscurity of aim is to be avoided in the preparation of a plan, this applies with still greater force to its execution. It is very easy to fall into the habit of mind which assumes that one’s own is the only voice heard by the enemy, when in fact it is but one of many. If one is to be heard above the others, it can only be by saying what one has to say with clarity and conviction. At the same time one must seek, wherever possible, to silence one’s rivals, not only because they pollute one’s own stream, but because they may stumble on the truth and perhaps also for the more unexpected reason that they may, by clumsy repetition, cause the enemy to disbelieve one’s own story. Both of the last named dangers were realised during the latter part of the war.1 Deception thus demands that while our false intentions are being disclosed to the enemy in plain terms by the agents that we do control, those that we do not should at the first opportunity be won over to our side; failing which they must, in the euphemistic language of our times, be ‘liquidated’.
Experience gained during the invasion has also taught us something about the technical handling of the various weapons of deception. When disclosing an elaborate story to the enemy it is not only easier, but usually safer and more effective, to use a few proved channels rather than divide it between a wide variety of agencies whose value is not known. By adopting the latter course one makes it less certain that the entire plot will be brought to the notice of the enemy and, what is worse, one suspect channel may bring discredit not only on the story itself but also on all the other means that one is employing to divulge it. This rule applies in the selection of controlled agents. The reader will remember how a part of the story was lost by giving it to the unproved TATE. He will also recall the reason why we refrained from associating the tried British agents with the less reliable ones in France. Deception staffs must be prepared to resist the pleas of case officers who will always seek to obtain the plums for their own protégés. More than half-a-dozen agents shared in the execution of FORTITUDE, but its success was due to two only, and those two we had recognised, at any rate by the summer of 1944, to be the star performers of the team. This is not to say that one should not use the lesser channels, whose credibility is reasonably assured, to provide independent confirmation. But here again there are pitfalls to avoid. It is natural that certain types of information should come into the hands of more than one spy acting independently. Identifications of the same troops and fixed installations, for example, which are or could be there for all to see, will not excite suspicion if they reach the enemy from several unconnected sources.2 On the other hand, the discovery of highly secret operational intentions by more than one enemy agent is hardly true to life. The case of the air exercise in Kent on 29th May, 1944, has already been cited. An even graver risk was run in July of that year when, through a misunderstanding, GARBO and BRUTUS reported the whole of the FORTITUDE SOUTH II story in almost identical terms. When this occurs, one of two things will happen. Either the enemy will assume that both agents are operating under control, or he will take the second message as confirmation of the first and so become more firmly convinced of the truth of the report. Fortunately, in the last-named instance, the Germans took the latter view. But the danger of pursuing such a course far outweighs any possible advantage that may be gained.
It is necessary at this point to draw attention once more to a curious misconception which persisted throughout the continuance of FORTITUDE. At all times, the Political Warfare Executive, in its capacity as propaganda machine of the British Government, and on occasion the public statements of senior commanders and statesmen,3 were accounted as available channels for implanting falsehoods on the enemy. It is right that those at the head of affairs or who are responsible for framing the policy of national propaganda should be informed of current deception plans so that they may be prevented from saying anything that is at variance with them. But to make a channel which is known by the enemy to be officially inspired the mouthpiece of positive deception must surely run the risk of exciting suspicion. However imbued a deception staff may be with the advantages of a ‘double bluff’, no commander would ever allow particulars of an impending real operation to be broadcast to the world, and any intelligent enemy would be aware of this.
One hesitates to express any opinion on methods adopted during FORTITUDE in the handling of physical devices, for these were never really put to the rest. The arguments which have been advanced on either side in the matter of dummy traffic and controlled leakage on the wireless have already been set out in an earlier chapter. Where visual misdirection is concerned it may be useful to reassert that in an island such as ours unmistakable evidence of an intention to invade is likely to become apparent only at a very late stage. It was the Germans themselves who, on 5th May, 1944, observed in reference to shipping on the south coast of England: ‘We must, however, suppose that without doubt a considerable proportion, particularly of landing craft, have remained unobserved since these are, as we know from experience, well camouflaged and are hidden, withdrawn from sight into the numerous bays and waterways along the south coast.’ Here at any rate the deceiver may find scope for economy of resources, for anything which cannot be seen until the last moment need not be represented at all.4
We now pass to the difficult matter of command and control. It is submitted that the control of a deceptive operation must be decided upon the self-evident principle that no two people can safely tell the same lie to the same person except by closely concerted action. We must therefore determine the scope of the operation. This will tell us who will be affected, which channels are likely to be used, and what agency is best fitted to correlate the activities of all concerned. The solitary scout behind the hedgerow can formulate and execute his own cover plan without reference to higher authority because he acts alone. At the other end of the scale we have the grand deception of FORTITUDE which bore upon every activity in the United Kingdom. It was therefore right that the directive of 26th February, 1944, should have left it to the Supreme Commander to ‘co-ordinate and control the execution of the plan as a whole’ and should have reserved to him ‘the implementation of the plan by special means’. Whether it was equally right to place upon the Joint Commanders the responsibility for ‘directing towards the Pas de Calais the threat created by the forces under their control’ (which included the bulk of the physical means of deception) and for ‘making preparations to continue the threat against the Pas de Calais after NEPTUNE D Day’ is open to debate, for this amounted in effect to nothing less than a delegation to them of the conduct of FORTITUDE SOUTH I, the essential cover plan for OVERLORD. The reader will remember that this delegation was made with the object of unifying control. The detailed planning and physical execution of both real and false operations were to be placed in the same hands. In fact, this course tended to divide rather than to unify. The implications of FORTITUDE SOUTH I inevitably extended into fields which lay beyond the purview of the Joint Commanders; furthermore, the principal executants, the controlled agents, remained under SHAEF, the senior command, an anomolous situation and one which gave rise to some inconvenience through the physical separation of the two headquarters. It is also hard to see what SHAEF gained by divesting itself of the command of specialist troops engaged in deception. If one is going to make the best use of one’s inevitably limited resources, it seems reasonable to suggest that the agency best fitted to conduct the operation as a whole, and therefore most suitably placed to weigh the relative importance of conflicting demands throughout the theatres, should also command all specialist troops. These can always be allotted to subordinate commanders in such proportions and for such periods as the occasion demands.
This brings us to a consideration of staff organisation. Here the lesson of FORTITUDE is very clear. Reversing the practice of the Middle East, the deception staff at SHAEF was made a sub-section of the Operations Division, because it was said that only in this way would it be able to remain in ‘the operational picture’. In fact, with an immense headquarters staff, it takes a long time for vital decisions to percolate to its lower levels. But strategic deception, if it is to succeed, must be in constant touch with the commander’s thoughts. Furthermore, the current flows in both directions. Intelligence reaching the deception staff through the double-cross agents may be of immediate value to the commander. FORTITUDE achieved what it did because the conditions which governed its execution remained constant. The ineffectiveness of strategic deception during the latter months of the war may be partly explained by the isolation of the deception staff from the real centre of control. It is sometimes argued that while the deception staff should remain a part of the operations division, its head should have direct access to the commander.5 But this gives rise to a situation more unorthodox than the stigmatised ‘private army’, and in practice the head of the deception staff may hesitate to exercise a right which involves the passing by of his immediate superior. Furthermore, it still leaves him outside the immediate current of events. Another reason for bringing the commander and the deceptive machine into close touch lies in the fact that deception may otherwise be given tasks to carry out which it is not well fitted to perform. There is a tendency on the part of those who are constantly at grips with compelling realities to regard deception as a swift panacea to be invoked when other remedies have failed. Although there may be occasions when its services can usefully be enlisted to give immediate aid,6 it is generally more correct to regard it as a method which achieves its results by a slow and gradual process rather than by lightning strokes. Like the fly-wheel of an engine it requires time to gain momentum and time again to lose it. By employing it at the eleventh hour one may be too late to do any good and merely succeed in bringing one’s influence to bear at a time when it is in conflict with the real plan. Is it an exaggeration to say that a commander should be as closely and as constantly informed about his shadow armies as he is about his real ones? Reality and deception are but the reverse sides of the same coin, and the latter may bring benefits out of all proportion to the cost involved. This much events have proved.
Yet, when all is said, one is left with a sense of astonishment that men in such responsible positions as were those who controlled the destinies of Germany during the late war, could have been so fatally misled on such slender evidence. One can only suppose that strategic deception derives its capacity for giving life to this fairy-tale world from the circumstance that it operates in a field into which the enemy can seldom effectively penetrate and where the opposing forces never meet in battle. Dangers which lurk in this terra incognita thus tend to be magnified, and such information as is gleaned to be accepted too readily at its face value. Fear of the unknown is at all times apt to breed strange fancies. Thus it is that strategic deception finds its opportunity of changing the fortunes of war.