Agent Josephine, page 39
Josephine had stipulated one condition regarding the present tour: there would be no segregation at any of her shows. Black and white GIs would mix freely, or else she would not perform. In the spring of 1943 that simple request was still seen as controversial – anathema, almost – within US military circles. But Josephine was adamant. What was the point in waging war on Hitler, if segregation overshadowed the Allied war effort? Not all the senior US Army officers she encountered agreed with her, but her tour had the blessing from the very top, so few were about to voice their objections out loud.12
The day following the attack by the enemy’s warplanes, Josephine was asked to perform in Mostaganem, Algeria’s fourth largest city, which lies some eighty kilometres east of Oran. This time, she was presented with another singular challenge. The US military asked her to sing in the city square, as much for the benefit of the townsfolk as for the GIs. Mostaganem had a large Italian and Spanish population, and for obvious reasons they were not exactly extending the hand of welcome to the Allied troops. The top brass figured that a performance by Josephine Baker in such a setting might furnish a greater ‘atmosphere of understanding’, especially as US troops had also been told to ‘mingle with the crowd’.13
Josephine had her own ideas about how exactly she might achieve their ends. In the midst of her performance she stepped from the makeshift stage and began to press the flesh. To the women and children she handed out sweets, and cigarettes to the men. She took hold of a baby, and with much cooing orchestrated matters so a nearby GI ended up holding the infant. By the time the show was done, there was a decidedly more fraternal atmosphere in that city square.
The troupe headed east to Blida, and from there to the capital Algiers, and everywhere they performed several shows per day.
A month after leaving Morocco, Josephine returned, her tour over. When she rendezvoused with Abtey, she struck him as looking ‘exhausted and as thin as a greyhound’. As soon as she laid eyes upon him, she burst out: ‘It was magnificent, Jack, magnificent! What a pity it’s already over.’14
Old habits die hard, and she had returned from her tour with notes of all the things she had witnessed which might be of interest to Allied intelligence. The question was, just whom should she report such material to? Once again, in terms of their spymasters, they had been left in something of a limbo.
Shortly, an answer presented itself. A dinner was organised at a cosy and quiet French-style brasserie. The moving force behind the gathering was one Colonel Pierre Billotte, de Gaulle’s Chief of Staff, who was most interested in their work with US and British intelligence. Billotte, a tank commander, was a standout hero of the Battle for France, and had been held prisoner by the Germans before escaping and joining the Free French. He was the kind of figure Abtey believed they could place their trust in, a man who played it with a straight bat.
It was May 1943, and de Gaulle had just moved his headquarters from London to Algiers. The intrigue and in-fighting in North Africa was at fever pitch. Even as the rift between de Gaulle and Giraud had deepened, so French Admiral François Darlan had been assassinated. Visiting Algeria when Operation Torch had been launched, Darlan had been caught by the landings and trapped. He’d gone on to cut a deal with Eisenhower, in which French forces in the region would transfer their allegiances to the Allies, in return for which he would retain a position of power and influence. But as a leading figure in the Pétain regime – he was the former de facto head of the Vichy government – Darlan had enemies.
In December 1942 he had been shot dead, in a plot that many believed had been orchestrated by the Allies.15 Immediately after Darlan’s murder, an SOE/OSS training camp in Algeria, codenamed Brandon, had been raided, as the assassins were believed to have been trained there. Suspicion and intrigue continued to swirl and boil. In Britain, just days before he relocated to North Africa, a Wellington bomber carrying de Gaulle was sabotaged, the French leader narrowly escaping with his life. No one knew for sure who was responsible, but de Gaulle feared it was an Allied plot to have him bumped off.
One thing was for sure – the bitter enmity pitted Frenchman against Frenchman, when all needed to be united behind the cause. Certainly, Josephine had no time for such infighting. She would write of how these poisonous North African intrigues were riddled with backstabbing, tragedy, plot and counter plot, not to mention a great deal of pride and self-interest.16
Refreshingly, the dinner hosted by Colonel Billotte eschewed all of that. Josephine, Abtey and Zimmer were all present, and much was agreed, including that the controversy over Abtey’s past service with the Free French would be sorted out, his service record being backdated until June 1940. Colonel Billotte proposed that both Abtey and Josephine should work as agents of the Free French once more. As Abtey would later recall, this dinner was characterised by its intimacy, and was the moment when ‘we finally celebrated our contact with those whom for so long we had sought in vain.’17
A second dinner was held, this one hosted by Colonel Paul Paillole, their long-standing Deuxième Bureau/TR boss. Paillole, who had recently been in London, was able to pass on Dunderdale’s private greetings and sentiments. The SIS spymaster was hugely grateful for all the information they had provided and he apologised for erring in his treatment of Abtey, in particular. They should have spirited him to London, when Abtey had first asked, back in the winter of 1940: ‘his coming would have changed everything,’ Dunderdale declared.18 Quite what that might mean wasn’t entirely clear.
Confusingly, Paillole invited Abtey to join his intelligence apparatus, which suggested that two ‘Free French’ security services were somehow running side-by-side. ‘In spite of my friendship and all the esteem I had for him and his high qualities, I obviously couldn’t accept,’ Abtey would write of Paillole’s invitation.19 As he was being courted by Colonel Billotte and de Gaulle, that was where his allegiances now had to lie. It was the same for Josephine. If she were to return to the shadow war, it would need to be for de Gaulle’s Free French, which meant the BCRA.
A week later Abtey was asked formally to join the Free French. On 8 June 1943, he signed a decree, declaring that ‘ABTEY Maurice, Captain… having taken note of the staff regulations of the FORCES FRANÇAISES LIBRES [Free French Forces], undertake to serve with Honour, Faithfulness and Discipline in the FREE FRENCH FORCES for the duration of the war… To be effective from… 25 June 1940…’20 Finally, the missing years of his service seemed to have been reclaimed.
Sadly, nothing is ever so simple, and the ghosts of Abtey’s wartime secret service would continue to haunt him for decades to come.
By now the fight for Tunisia had reached maximum intensity, as British, American, French and colonial forces advanced from east and west, closing the trap. Tens of thousands of Allied troops were reported killed and wounded in that cauldron, as Rommel’s Afrika Korps fought tooth and nail for every yard of territory. In the words of one American observer, the Free French forces ‘fought so bravely in the front line, ill-equipped as they were, that they had lost 11,000 dead and 5,000 wounded.’21
Learning of the bloodshed, Josephine asked if she might fly to Tunisia, to bolster the morale of the French troops. The reply that came back from General Giraud’s headquarters – he was still formally the French Civil and Military Commander-in-Chief – was a blunt no thank you: ‘They do not need distractions.’22 Churlish and self-defeating, Giraud’s decision left Josephine angered and confused. All she wanted to do was to give her all for the troops, regardless of the in-fighting. But, along with Abtey, she had nailed her colours to the mast, declaring herself for de Gaulle, which meant that she could not be for Giraud.
Instead, Josephine found herself being courted by the British. Lieutenant Harry Hurford-Janes, an officer serving with ENSA – Entertainments National Service Association – was charged with the difficult mission of finding stars to perform for the troops in North Africa.23 Few entertainers were keen, for it generally involved a long voyage by horribly crowded troopship across U-boat infested seas. It was far preferable to entertain the mass of Allied soldiers gathering in Britain. As Josephine realised, London’s top stars weren’t so keen to travel far from home, to perform on the frontline of battle.
In short order, Hurford-Janes secured Josephine’s services for a month-long tour. In late-June 1943 she boarded an RAF bomber for a flight east to Libya, again with Zimmer and Fred Rey as her escorts (Abtey was still trying to square away his Free French status and activities).24 In Libya she would perform beside the towering form of the ‘Arc de Triomphe’, on an airbase scorched by a merciless sun. (As a monument to his North African conquests, Mussolini had erected a huge white marble arch in the deserts of Libya, formally called the Arco dei Fileni, but commonly known to the Allies as the ‘Marble Arch’, after the London landmark, or the ‘Arc de Triomphe’, after the one in Paris.)
Her tour would take her from there onwards to Egypt and Syria, performing for British troops and soldiers from Greece, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Canada and across the British Commonwealth. At each stop she was deeply touched by her encounters. ‘They did not know that the Sicilian landing was to come so soon,’ she would write, of those who were poised to embark on Operation Husky, the thrust into southern Italy. ‘And to see them so full of enthusiasm, when so many were already marked by the sign of death…’25 She found this hugely moving, as she did her tours of the Cairo hospitals, which were full of the wounded from the battles at El Alamein, Mersa Matruh, Bir Hakeim and other iconic battlegrounds.26
Josephine’s efforts won her enormous affection and admiration, especially among the rank and file. Hurford-Janes shepherded her everywhere and the two would become lifelong friends. He would write to her of the impromptu shows she gave at the hospitals: ‘One of my most treasured memories is the night when we dragged the little piano into the ward of the Canadian hospital and you sang “I’ll Be Seeing You” until you nearly dropped. How even the nurses stood with tears in their eyes and [of] those poor helpless men – many of whom would never recover – lying on their backs unable to move, only their eyes showing the relief and comfort you gave them.’27
She danced for the troops, performing everything from ballet to samba. She sang all kinds of tunes – lullabies, love songs, hilarious ditties, sentimental numbers that spoke of home. The First World War refrains – those she had recorded in 1940, and performed along the Maginot Line – proved favourites: ‘Tipperary’, and ‘If You Were The Only Girl In The World’. She sang ‘My Yiddishe Momme’ and ‘Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup’, plus a piece of riotous friskiness called ‘Dirty Gertie From Bizerte’, which was fast becoming the number one favourite among Allied troops. And at every turn she sang ‘J’ai Deux Amours’.28
Being the star of an ENSA tour, Josephine found herself rubbing shoulders with those famous British entertainers who had the guts and gusto to make it to North Africa. They included the likes of Laurence Olivier, Vivien Leigh and Noël Coward, who was himself a former/sometime agent with the SIS. Having served in a top secret role – and earning himself a place in Hitler’s Black Book; the Nazi’s ‘most-wanted list’ of those to be seized once Britain was invaded – Coward had been urged by Churchill to abandon his secret assignments, so as to entertain the troops. ‘Go and sing for them when the guns are firing,’ Britain’s wartime leader urged, and Coward had paid heed.29
Kindred spirits – fearless superstars and veterans of the shadow wars – Josephine and Noël Coward hit it off. When she met him in a simple tent in the midst of a military camp in the desert, she could appreciate exactly why he was so beloved of the British troops. The heartfelt warmth and generosity of the man shone through. His smile was a blessing that he gifted to you.30 Coward reciprocated such sentiments, echoing Josephine’s enthusiasm and amity. ‘She is doing a wonderful job with the troops,’ he would write of Josephine’s tour, ‘and refuses to appear anywhere where admission is charged…’31
At several junctures on her tour a Colonel Eric Dunstan – another of her ENSA minders – declared to the crowd: ‘We couldn’t find a better ambassador for the morale of the troops than Miss Josephine Baker.’
Josephine countered, self-effacingly: ‘I don’t think so. I know someone who thrills the soldiers: Noël Coward.’32
Josephine’s signature toughness and her fire was back. In Cairo she faced down King Farouk, the royal head of Egypt. She had gone to a nightclub with an English officer who was acting as her escort for the evening. The club’s owner came and sought her out, with a message from the King: he would like her to sing. She declined, after which a second message arrived at their table: ‘It is an order. You do not refuse a king.’33 When the music began playing again, Josephine got to her feet, but not to sing. Instead, she took to the dance floor on the English officer’s arm.
King Farouk was not pleased. He ordered the orchestra to stop playing. As panic spread, the conductor called for a policeman, who begged Josephine to leave. ‘I will not,’ she countered, ‘because I feel like dancing.’34 Beneath her seemingly wilful defiance lay a set of very real and solid reasons. As she knew full well, King Farouk had yet to declare himself for the Allies. Josephine sought to lure him into a public show of where his proper loyalties should lie.
The matter was settled when the King booked the Royal Theatre Cairo for Josephine to perform. She had agreed to do so, but only if the event were held under the banner of Franco-Egyptian friendship. Egypt had yet to recognise the French Committee of National Liberation, the political wing of the Free French movement. For months, General de Gaulle’s man in Egypt had failed to get an audience with King Farouk, who was suspected by some of having pro-Nazi sympathies. Josephine’s performance at the Royal Theatre Cairo would go a long way to addressing such failings.
Old habits die hard. During her month-long ENSA tour, Josephine was struck repeatedly by what she heard – on the streets, from Arab chiefs, from royalty, from those in places of high authority. The people of North Africa knew the Atlantic Charter off by heart, and had taken its promised freedoms as their driving inspiration.35 A region-wide uprising threatened, as nations reached boiling point, their populations hungering to throw off the yoke of colonial rule. Josephine felt gripped by an anxiety that was hard for her to articulate. While she supported their calls for freedom, her message, as always, was – not just yet. Once we have defeated the overarching evil of Nazism, but not before…
In fact, the British and American secret services had deliberately stoked those fires. In the run-up to the Torch landings, the SOE and OSS had offered backing to Arab leaders seeking independence, including weaponry, if they in turn would support the Allied cause. But what had then seemed like a sound policy threatened to backfire now. Fuelled by the sentiments underpinned by the Atlantic Charter, the Berber (Rif) and Arab tribes looked set to take the path of war. ‘The subsequent control of such a rising might well prove impossible,’ warned a SOE report, which ‘would be a considerable embarrassment to the Allies…’36 From what Josephine was hearing, far more than an ‘embarrassment’ threatened.
By mid-July 1943 she was back in Morocco, where she shared her fears with her friends. Abtey fed the intelligence to Colonel Billotte, who passed it on to those on high. He came back with an urgent request. Would Josephine consider doing a tour under de Gaulle’s personal patronage, in support of the Free French troops? It would have a two-fold agenda. In addition to boosting morale, she was also being asked to raise money for those Resistance groups active across France sabotaging and ambushing German forces. They were in desperate need of funds, and as Josephine was unpaid, always and everywhere a volunteer, they hoped she could help. Josephine said she could.
That agreed, Colonel Billotte explained there would also be a third, hidden role, if she were willing. He wished Josephine, together with Abtey – for he was very much back in business now – to return to their roots; to gather intelligence, but this time specifically concerning the unrest that threatened to engulf North Africa. ‘As you are used to working with Captain Abtey, he will accompany you,’ Billotte promised, adding that General de Gaulle was ‘very interested’ in what they might discover.37
‘Josephine Baker… was going to be called upon to carry out her activities for the Intelligence Services until the Allied landings on the French coast,’ was how Abtey would describe her forthcoming role. ‘I was to be entrusted once again with guiding her steps, directing her efforts and pursuing joint actions with her.’38 This time, they would be doing so under de Gaulle’s direct patronage. For now at least Abtey’s chequered past – his spying for the British and Americans – would be ignored.
The old-faithfuls of Josephine’s entourage were reassembled: Ferdinand Zimmer and Fred Rey, plus the band of assorted musicians. Bearing in mind their new clandestine role, a fresh recruit was brought in. Si Mohamed Menebhi – the son of the former Grand Vizier of Morocco – was to join them, for his presence would open many doors. A 4,500-kilometre journey lay ahead of them, just to reach Cairo, so they also recruited several drivers, including a young French naval officer who hailed from Brittany (his name seems lost to time).
Using their high-level contacts across Morocco and the wider region, Josephine and Abtey, aided by Si Mohamed Menebhi, were to seek out the unvarnished truth, and if possible to suggest ‘conclusions and offer solutions’.39 They were to do so fearlessly, and reporting freely whatever they found. They would not always get it spot on. Sometimes they called it wrong, but more often than not their reports proved accurate and incisive, even if the message they embodied was not always welcome.
‘Sometimes we were appreciated, often we were hated because our weapon was our nerve to say what had to be said,’ Abtey would write of their new-found mission. All too often, their reports would be met with ‘indifference and disbelief, or even hostility’.40 Unwittingly, their work would lead them into the darkest kind of trouble, for theirs was a message that many did not want to hear.
