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'No, sir.'
'Then you may leave.'
Realizing that he had just been removed from his position of authority over the SS secret weapons program and relegated to what Himmler now viewed as a relatively minor Projekt Saucer, Ernst left the SS headquarters in a state of confusion.
He took the news straight to Wilson.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Arriving in London in February 1944 as an OSS colonel, Bradley was completely unprepared for the full extent of the city's devastation. Having remembered London from his many pre-war trips to Europe, he was shocked by the scorched, blackened ruins and debris-strewn rubble, the ugliness of the barrage balloons at the end of their steel cables, the gun emplacements in the parks, the sandbagged doorways, blackout curtains, and reinforced walls of even the city's most elegant buildings.
When he impulsively mentioned this observation to British Lieutenant Colonel Mark Wentworth-King, shortly after meeting him in the headquarters of the Special Operations Executive at 64 Baker Street, the raffishly good-humoured SOE officer told him that much of the devastation was fairly recent, because London was in fact suffering its heaviest air raids since the Blitz of May 1941.
'The blighters are coming over practically every night,' the lieutenant colonel told him, 'so keep your head down, old chap. Take a chair. Have some tea.'
Weary after his night flight from Was.h.i.+ngton but otherwise feeling unusually healthy because of his weeks of intensive OSS training in physical fitness, espionage, self-defence, and guerrilla operations, Bradley pulled up a chair at the other side of Wentworth-King's desk and appreciated the hot tea that was poured for him.
'I've never seen so many troops in my life,' he said, 'as I've seen in the streets of London today. And not only English. Also Irish, Scottish, Welsh, French, Hungarian, Polish, Australian, Canadian, and American. They formed a regular flood out there. Just how soon do you expect the big push?'
'Fairly soon,' Wentworth-King said. British reticence. Bradley knew it and was used to it. 'Just how soon is "fairly soon," Colonel?'
'In good time,' Wentworth-King said.
Bradley sighed. 'This is a pretty d.a.m.ned good cup of tea,' he said.
'Naturally,' Wentworth-King replied. 'It is English, after all.'
'Three cheers for the English.'
Wentworth-King smiled, lit a cigarette, then glanced down at the papers on his desk and turned some of them over. 'Mmmm ... Quite a record.'
'Thanks,' Bradley said.
'The Distinguished Service Cross, the Distinguished Service Medal, and the Medal of Honour for exploits in the battlefields in France in 1918,' Wentworth-King insisted upon reading aloud, as if he hadn't read the doc.u.ments before. 'Unlikely member of the Republican Party in New York '
'Why unlikely?' Bradley interjected.
'One naturally a.s.sumes that those of Irish extraction will be Democrats.'
'I'm sorry I missed the boat.'
'On the contrary,' Wentworth-King continued with a slight, amused smile, 'you didn't miss the boat at all, but travelled far and wide on it... A successful lawyer with offices in Wall Street. Specialist in international law and used your knowledge to a.s.sess, on behalf of the US secretary of state, the military aims and capabilities of Europe, particularly n.a.z.i Germany, before the outbreak of war. Encouraged by boredom and the fact that you were too old to take active part in this war to perform other unofficial services for General Dwight Taylor of US Army Air Force intelligence. Eventually, through him, and with the blessing of President Roosevelt, you were given the job of laying the groundwork for some kind of centralized intelligence agency, rather like our own. Worked at this in a purely unofficial, civilian capacity whilst trying to establish a more formal intelligence organization to deal with the European situation. When OSS was finally established, based on the Office of the Coordinator of Information, or COI which ironically was based on your unacknowledged recommendations you were invited by General Taylor to join the new intelligence organization, did so, then underwent retraining, and, as a much fitter, hopefully more dangerous man, ended up at the other side of my desk. Why, Colonel Bradley?'
'Why what?'
'Why have you ended up at the other side of my desk? Our intelligence man in Was.h.i.+ngton requests that we bare our b.r.e.a.s.t.s to you, though does not tell us why. What are you after?'
'The benefit of your experience,' Bradley said diplomatically. 'OSS is a relatively new organization '
'Established two years ago,' Wentworth-King interjected with the air of a man who likes to get his facts right and wants you to know it.
' and while we're proud of our track record so far, we're willing to admit that compared to the British Secret Intelligence Service, we're pretty raw meat.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Compared to your organization, Lieutenant Colonel, OSS is badly lacking in real know-how. I've therefore come here for two purposes: the first is to learn all you can teach me; the next is to make use of that learning for a particular mission.'
Pleased with the compliments, Wentworth-King smiled, inhaled on his cigarette, then blew a cloud of smoke. 'Exactly what would you like us to teach you that you don't know already?'
'I've already had basic intelligence training by your fellow Brits at a COI training school on a farm in Toronto. It was tough, but not enough. I'd now like to be trained in code-breaking by one of your signals intelligence units at Bletchley Park. I'd also like to be briefed on British propaganda and psychological warfare methods, including the so-called Doublecross or XX system in which, I'm informed, you use captured German spies as counteragents and playbacks.'
'Informed by whom, Colonel Bradley?'
'By your intelligence man in the White House.'
'I am rea.s.sured to hear that. Anything else?'
Bradley shrugged and spread his hands in the air. 'Anything you can give me. I'm hoping to parachute into Europe, so obviously I'll need extensive training in that. I also need to perfect my otherwise excellent French and German and I need to know what to watch out for when I'm in n.a.z.i-occupied territory. You get the picture, I'm sure.'
'Are you sure you're up for this, Colonel?'
'I'm an exceptionally fit forty-nine, Lieutenant Colonel, recently trained by the US Marines and some of your own boys. I think I can handle it.'