Share This Article

Clandestine operations during World War II resulted in both classic triumphs and dismal failures.

By Michael D. Hull

Renowned illusionist and magician Jasper Maskelyne received a commission in the British army shortly after the outbreak of World War II. He was convinced that he could adapt the techniques of stage magic to the battlefield, but the army did not know exactly how to employ him. He was assigned to the Camouflage Section at British headquarters in Cairo, Egypt.

Maskelyne’s chance to prove himself came early in September 1941, when he received a visit from Major Geoffrey Barkas, the section chief and a former movie set designer. Barkas said that the army brass had an urgent assignment for the magician: hide the vital Suez Canal to protect it from Luftwaffe bombers.

Working tirelessly and in secrecy, Maskelyne conjured up one black magic trick after another, but he eventually discarded them all as impractical. He became discouraged–until he got an idea from the searchlights that were positioned at the anti-aircraft batteries sited at critical points along the 100-mile waterway. If enough searchlights were installed along the canal, Maskelyne speculated, a curtain of bright illumination could be created. German airmen trying to see through that intense veil of light would find it impossible to distinguish the canal in their bombsights.

Maskelyne’s superiors were pessimistic about his proposition, and there was a shortage of searchlights, so it was clearly going to be difficult to try out the plan. But Maskelyne and his “magic gang” set about to magnify the power of each beacon they could scrounge. They attached tin reflectors to the searchlight lenses and then–with the aid of the Royal Engineers–altered the lights so that they would spin swiftly, creating dazzling cartwheels of light that could be seen high in the sky.

The British installed a chain of 21 adapted searchlights along the length of the Suez Canal. The Luftwaffe flew many missions in an attempt to bomb and mine the canal, but all of them failed. The canal remained securely “hidden.” The British magician’s ploy worked.

The story of Jasper Maskelyne and his exploits is one of many little-known anecdotes from the war recounted in Undercover Tales of World War II (John Wiley & Sons, New York, 1999, $29.95), by William B. Breuer, one of the most prolific and readable historians writing today. Breuer showcases the shadowy world of high-stakes espionage and intelligence, sabotage and bribery, kidnappings and plots, bizarre inventions and dramatic power plays. Undercover Tales of World War II is based on information from interviews with former spies and operatives, military reports, government archives and correspondence that Breuer has collected over the years. The result is an anthology of stories that will delight all World War II buffs, as well as history enthusiasts in general.

Breuer is a dynamic storyteller and a master of detail. “Most of these surreptitious events would have been rejected by Hollywood film producers as implausible,” says the author, “yet they happened and helped to shape the outcome of the war.” Many of the stories provide fascinating sidelights on the war. Included, for example, are details about the following unusual tales: The American Nazi Party’s efforts to steal defense secrets about the Panama Canal. The Nazis’ theft of the Norden bombsight design. German espionage in New York and Japanese espionage in Hawaii. The plot to blow up the Pan American Clipper in Lisbon. The sinking of two British battleships in Alexandria, Egypt, by Italian frogmen. The ill-fated parachuting of mules into Sicily. The Royal Navy’s daring rescue of captured seamen from the German prison ship Altmark in a Norwegian fiord. The crippling of the mighty German battleship Tirpitz by British midget submarines. The rescue of Benito Mussolini from Italian partisans by SS Major Otto Skorzeny.

One of the more entertaining stories deals with Adolf Hitler’s interest in “concrete crocodiles.” During the planning of Operation Sealion, the proposed invasion of England in 1940, Nazi Economics Minister Gottfried Feder proposed the construction of concrete submarine barges–each carrying 90 soldiers and two tanks or a few artillery pieces–that would crawl along the bed of the English Channel and deliver an invasion force to the British shores. Hitler was fascinated with the concept, but the German admirals quietly let the project die a natural death.

The book is peopled by a host of colorful characters, such as Major Grant Taylor, a legendary figure in the British army who had lived in the United States and was rumored to be an undercover agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation and a bodyguard for Al Capone. After setting up a “killer school” for commandos and spies, Taylor devised a plan to exact revenge for German bombing raids on England. Learning that a group of Luftwaffe pilots gathered each Friday night at a certain restaurant in a small French town on the Channel coast, Taylor decided to invite himself to their party. Disguised as a French fisherman and armed with two pistols and a dagger, he crossed the Channel via a launch, then located the restaurant, burst in on the pilots’ celebration and killed all six present. Afterward he dashed back to the dock, leaped into the waiting launch and made it back to England by sunrise.

Breuer, who has also authored works on U.S. airborne operations, the Sicily campaign, PT-boats, Anzio, the invasions of North Africa and southern France, Allied and German espionage, the assault across the Rhine, the Philippine liberation and the space race, has provided an intriguing look at some lesser-known aspects of the war in Undercover Tales.