Tag Archives: WWII

Hedy Lamarr: Smoking Hot Genius

17 May

2c7e8f8869fe325aa0a102b62a3d000e_400x400

Why the story of Hedy Lamarr hasn’t been made into a movie yet I’ll never understand. She was one of the most beautiful movie stars to ever grace the silver screen. But beyond her obvious attributes, Hedy was a bonafide genius. Hers was a classic case of beauty and brains taken to the extreme. And maybe because of the fact she was so beautiful, her academic achievements would never be taken seriously. Not until over 40 years later, at least.

ziegfeld-girl-hedy-lamarr-1941

Born Hedwig Kiesler, Hedy grew up in Vienna as an Austrian Banker’s unorthodox daughter. A self-described enfant terrible, Hedy gained notoriety while still a teenager for running through the woods naked in the Czech film “Ecstacy”.

Hedy1

Shorty afterwards, Hedy married wealthy arms merchant Fritz Mandl, a Hitler admirer. She accompanied Mandl to business and political dinners, quietly listening while her husband and his Nazi friends plotted advanced weaponry for the coming war.

600full-hedy-lamarr

Hedy managed a daring escape from the marriage by drugging a maid ordered to keep tabs on her. She fled to England, taking with her all the knowledge and information her Nazi-sympathizer husband has unwittingly exposed her to. Information that would be of incredible value to the Allies in a few years.

20301

In London, Hedy met film mogul Louis B. Mayer. Mayer took one look at the natural beauty and shipped her to Hollywood and promptly rechristened her Hedy Lamarr.

600full-hedy-lamarr (1)

A self-taught mathematical genius, the 26-year old Hedy created “frequency-hopping” or “spread-spectrum” technology. She applied her theory to radio-controlled torpedoes, to sink Nazi ships without having their frequency being jammed by the enemy. Lamarr won a patent for her secret communication system. But it wasn’t until 1962, 20 years later, that the Navy would incorporate it into their torpedo guidance systems in time for the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Annex - Lamarr, Hedy_13

During WWII, Hedy was urged not to pursue the inventor’s route, but instead to help fight the war by selling war bonds as a glamorous actress, which she did. In one evening alone, Hedy sold over $7 million worth of bonds by selling kisses for $50,000 each! A record that has never been broken since.

592px-Hedy_Lamarr-Algiers-38

Hedy never received a penny for her ground-breaking spread-spectrum technology. Her patent expired in 1959, but it is being used today in everything from cellular phones, to military defense satellites. Hedy was finally honored for services rendered during WWII by the Electric Frontier Foundation, among other honors. But it was scant recognition for technology that would eventually become the foundation for a trillion-dollar business.

hedylamarr

Living in Florida shortly before her death at 84, the former movie goddess and mathematical genius had a tough time making ends meet. But ever the Lady, when asked about her new-found fame surrounding her invention, Hedy simply replied, “It’s about time.”

Hedy-Lamarr-Invention

Hedy Lamarr’s true-life story is more fascinating to me than any she ever portrayed on screen. In the 1940’s and 50’s her star was among the brightest in the Hollywood Universe, with films like WHITE CARGO, ALGIERS and SAMSON & DELILAH rocketing her to fame. But watching the sex-kitten roles today gives me a slow burn, knowing tinseltown considered this beautiful woman better without a brain. One that could create technology out of a need to rid the world of Nazis but would end up having much farther reaching effects to this very day.

hedy-lamarr-1938-3-1400

I’m hoping some day in the near future, Hollywood will finally get it right and do justice to this golden age movie goddess by telling her story on the silver screen. Hedy’s is truly an original tale and the most unique and unlikely comeback story in virtually all of Hollywood history. You’d think they’d be interested in something like that. Even if it does make them look foolish.

hedy-lamarr-1938-photo-by-clarence-everett

To Hedy Lamarr, the ultimate Beauty with Brains!

Hedy-Lamarr-classic-movies-9477801-1445-1800

Hedy in her hey-day.

Hedy_Lamarr-1942

One of my favorite glamour shots of the brunette beauty.

hedy1

Hedy smoking-hot in her screen debut in Czech silent “Ecstacy”.

7e04f1e2f4ed722ddb971dae984eaeaf

A rare nude of the young movie goddess.

2cbde083becf

An even rarer shot of Hedy smiling for the cameras.

 

Advertisements

Garbo’s Last Stand: New Novel Cover Reveal

13 Oct

perf6.000x9.000.indd

Excited to share cover of my very first novel out this December 8th by Fiery Seas Publishing!

Garbo’s Last Stand – a novel

James Main is stuck making cable documentaries in LA when he places an ad looking for anyone still above ground who knew glamorous movie goddess Greta Garbo. He’s delighted when salty old tabloid reporter Seth Moseley replies with the promise of an untold story of why the reclusive star left Hollywood at the height of her power and fame.

A big thanks to Tom Sylvan for the gorgeous cover design and Misty Williams at Fiery Seas for all her support!

Hope you enjoy the cover and look forward to telling you more about the book as we get closer to the release date!

Jennifer O’Neill: Summer Lover

4 Jul

JenniferONeill

For most of us there are images that stick in the mind long after their context fades away. That was this image of Jennifer O’Neill in SUMMER OF ’42 (1971). Actually, it was this nearly identical image in black & white below:

jennifer-o-neill-summer-of-42

Taken a few seconds apart, they are virtually identical except for Jennifer’s hand placement. The Black & White version of this photograph is famous (available as a poster, it remains a seminal image from the early 70’s) while the color-version is not. What makes the difference is the virtually subliminal image the second image conveys. In the movie, Jennifer plays a wife who’s husband is engaged in WWII. She is lonely, waiting for word from her husband while living in a beach house over the summer during one of the worst chapters in the war’s history. Her wedding ring in the second photograph is visible wherein the first image it is not. And it makes all the difference in the photograph, the character in the story and in the classic film.

Jennifer0Neill4

Summer of ’42 is a novel by Herman Raucher which the film was based. It was shot in 1969-70 and released in 1971. The film catapulted Jennifer into stardom, as much for her wholesome looks (the hope of a generation of Americans some have called the greatest) as for her action – which my opinion is superb. In fact, Jennifer would go on to act in almost 30 films throughout the 70’s and early 80’s but never again attain the starry heights of Summer of ’42.

jennifer-o-neill-summer-of-42_2

Jennifer is a contemporary of Katherine Ross, Charlotte Rampling and several other actresses I’ve covered in this blog. What sets her apart is that Summer of ’42 was her movie, a star-making vehicle if there ever was one because the audience felt her pain and sense of loss while at the same time taking solace in the arms of a very young paramour during a summer infamous for death. She is so young, so alive and so beautiful that she embodies the hopes and ideals of what that generation of Americans stood for. At the same time, the subject matter was highly controversial because it portrayed an affair between a married woman (albeit war widow) and an under-age boy. By today’s standards the film’s so-called love scenes are chaste, but back in ’71 it was hot-stuff. And even today, no man can deny watching the movie that having an affair with Jennifer O’Neill in a summer house would be an affair to remember – under any circumstances.

JenniferONeill2

Summer of ’42 is a beautifully-shot movie with an absolutely gorgeous actress in the prime of her youth and career. It is one of those rare cinematic occasions where you literally can’t imagine anyone else in the role. Sure, it has been remade in various incarnations since then – but none were able to replicate the magic. I think this is in large part to Jennifer’s ability to captivate with her performance as much as her looks. Even more, it is saturated in the hues and values of summer – that special time we all slow down, enjoy the sun and beach and invariably reflect on our lives; what’s been, what is and what will be. And for me, that’s the magic spell summer and Summer of ’42 cast no matter what the generation is watching it.

JenniferONeill3

One more shot of gorgeous Jennifer and Happy July 4th!

Capitol Spies: Agent Cynthia

12 Jan

CynthiaWantedPoster

Every Memorial Day is meant to honor the men and women who fought on behalf of our country, many of which paid the ultimate sacrifice for our freedoms. But what about the men and women who are part of our intelligence community who are never publicly honored or even known about? Lost to history are the exploits of individuals whose participation was so top-secret that their assignments are classified to this day. The following story is about Agent Cynthia, who was recruited by the pre-CIA, or Office of Strategic Services, the first American Intelligence Agency  FDR created during World War II. Smart, sexy and in a position to save hundreds of thousands of lives through her espionage work, Amy Thorpe Pack was the most successful female spy of her time, arguably any time – yet her story has rarely if ever been told. In fact, the following account is still officially classified until 2041 by the United States and Britain Secret Services for reasons unknown.

CynthiaPosterInsert

June 21, 1942: The exact same moment Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman were on Warner Bros. Burbank, California studio lot shooting Casablanca, a tiny band of spies entered sovereign Vichy-French territory on a secret mission to liberate the real Casablanca. Far from North Africa, the black ops team comprised of a former D.C. debutante-turned-spy, her Vichy-French lover, a safe-cracker and their OSS (pre-CIA) handler, broke the FBI’s strict law forbidding espionage within city limits and infiltrated the Vichy French Embassy in wartime Washington D.C.

Joint Chiefs of Staff: “Obtain the Vichy Naval Codes”

After Hitler invaded France in May, 1940, President Roosevelt shrewdly maintained diplomatic relations with Vichy, allowing France to retain an embassy in D.C.  This embassy received daily encrypted cables from Nazi Germany about Hitler’s plans for the French Fleet and his forces in North Africa. America and Britain already possessed the technology to intercept these communiqués, but without the embassy codebooks needed to decode them the communiqués were useless.

Breaking into a foreign embassy to steal codebooks constituted an act of war. J. Edgar Hoover’s bureau boys were ordered to protect all embassies and officers of a foreign power from espionage, even America’s own. Ironically, all Federal Agents were forbidden to enter Capitol Hill unless expressly invited. However, Foreign Agents (i.e. spies) could enter at will. So Roosevelt recruited his friend General William “Wild Bill” Donovan to form the Office of Strategic Services, precursor to the CIA. Donovan assembled a special team to infiltrate the target embassy.

Agent Cynthia

Amy Elizabeth “Betty” Thorpe (aka Agent Cynthia) was born to an affluent family.  Her father, George Cyrus Thorpe, a U.S. Marine Corps major and prominent maritime lawyer, moved the family from Minnesota to D.C. when Betty was six.  Her mother, Cora Wells Thorpe, daughter to H.H. Wells, a U.S Senator from Morris, Minnesota, became a prominent and influential Washington socialite. Once one of the capital’s most glamorous debutantes, young Betty is remembered by Shirlee C. Thorpe, her former sister-in-law and a D.C. resident, as “gorgeous” and “mischievous.”

In the cloak and dagger world of espionage, Agent Cynthia was recruited first by the British and then the American’s as a swallow – an agent who used sex as a tool to obtain the enemy’s military secrets.

Agent Cynthia moved her swallow’s nest to Wardman Park, the posh residential hotel located at 2660 Woodley Rd NW.  The Wardman, large and with multiple entrances,  would frustrate the FBI’s surveillance efforts of the OSS Agent. The hotel was also the home of Cynthia’s target – the Vichy Press Attache, Charles Brousse.

Posing as a sympathetic American journalist, Cynthia made quick work of the older married man: “He planted a long, passionate kiss on my lips and pressed my back against the door until I was limp.  Then he swung me easily off the floor and started to carry me up the stairs.  He looked at me hungrily.  “Just point out your bedroom,” he said.  “You have nothing to fear, chérie.”  As a lover, Charles Brousse was the most ardent of all those I met in my career as a spy…”

Charles, having fallen madly in love, provided Cynthia with daily copies of decrypted embassy cables, which were sent immediately to the White House. President Roosevelt, fluent in French, often didn’t wait for the cables to be translated before reading them.  Cynthia and Charles even collaborated on reports, which the president read “as a bedtime story” and called, “the most fascinating reading I have had for a long time…the best piece of comprehensive intelligence I have come across since the last war.”

When Cynthia asked Charles for the codes for decrypting themselves, her French lover balked – remarking that what she wanted was impossible. Undeterred, Agent Cynthia solicited the Chief Cipher Officer of the Embassy, Count Jean de La Grandville.  Young, ambitious and arrogant, the Count received Cynthia alone in his suite at the Shoreham Hotel while his wife was in the Virginia countryside giving birth to their second child.  Cynthia offered the Count money in return for the code books.  But De La Grandville had other ideas in mind and remarked on how a pretty woman should not concern herself with such things. Cynthia was not amused. She left him with her hotel phone number and the caveat that, if he was going to be serious, he could ring her the following night.

Cynthia was taken aback to find Count de La Grandville in the Wardman Park lobby upon her arrival home the next night.  Unsure what to do, Cynthia brought de La Grandville up to her suite.  Her control of the situation deteriorated when the Count informed her he had uncovered her true identity – that of Betty Thorpe Pack, estranged wife of a British diplomat.

Cynthia had kept her marriage a secret from everyone.  Her cover blown, the compromised secret agent then made the only major tactical mistake of her illustrious career. As she recounted in her memoirs: “He wanted to be “sure” of me.  I replied that I did not know what he meant, that I was a trustworthy American agent, and that I had made him a straightforward proposition.  He said that he appreciated all that but ‘love-making forms a bond’ and that he wanted this bond…so I closed my eyes and hoped that this, like so much else that I wanted to do, would be for (the Allies).”

Afterward, Cynthia surmised she was duped. De La Grandville had no intention of producing the codebooks.  What’s more, the duplicitous Frenchman planned to turn her in to the French Ambassador come first light.  The seductress had allowed herself to be sexually blackmailed by a novice.

As if matters couldn’t get worse, Charles Brousse rang her from his suite inside the hotel to say he would be over momentarily.  Agent Cynthia could not get de La Grandville out of the hotel fast enough, and the Vichy officials passed one another in the hallway outside her suite.  In an instant, Charles knew Cynthia had been unfaithful.  He exploded in a jealous rage and became physically abusive. “It was a very thorough thrashing, and from his point of view, one that I richly deserved.”

Badly bruised and bleeding, Cynthia fled the hotel and stumbled across the famous William Taft Bridge, more commonly known as Connecticut Ave. Bridge.  It was only by sheer luck that an FBI surveillance team was not in the area to witness the distraught agent enter her mother’s deserted apartment at 2139 Wyoming Ave. – three doors down from the Vichy Embassy itself. Cynthia fell into a fitful sleep: “I drifted off into a half-sleep and a dream of “penetrating” the French Embassy again through a window, obtaining the ciphers and dispatching them to my Chiefs with the improbable aid of a well-trained B.S.C. flock of carrier-pigeons!”

The next morning, an apologetic Charles arrived at Cynthia’s mother’s doorstep.  He was surprised to find the female spy more emboldened than ever.  She told Charles, “While I was dozing at Mother’s I had a dream and am going to work out something around it.  I am far from lost as far as the project is concerned, but it would be catastrophic if I were “burnt”.  Everything depends on you to get me out of the mess that I really feel I am going to be in.” 

Sure enough, at that very moment across town, Count de La Grandville arrived at the home of Gaston Henry-Haye, the Vichy Ambassador, to tell him about the beautiful agent and her botched spy mission.  What the young Count didn’t know, however, was that Charles possessed incriminating evidence on the Ambassador himself, thanks to surveillance the OSS provided Cynthia.  Charles used this information to paint the Count as the real security risk and told Henri-Haye of rumors de La Grandville had been spreading about the Vichy Ambassador’s own illicit affairs.

Charles played his hand well, so well that de La Grandville was removed from the code room. Cynthia’s cover and the mission were spared.  However, they were still no closer to acquiring the codes, and time was running short.  Hitler’s grip on North Africa and the remaining French Fleet was tightening. The Vichy codes were now needed more than ever.

A Dangerous Solution

Cynthia appealed to her OSS handler, Agent Hunter, that there was only one remaining alternative – a black bag job; espionage parlance for an illegal break-in.  But a black bag job of a foreign Embassy was fraught with risk and very real danger. If they were caught, it would constitute a state of war between Vichy-France and the US.   Besides the FBI, who suspected Cynthia of being a spy and surveilled her night and day, there was also the notorious Vichy Secret Police to consider. Operating within the US and Canada, their duty was to report on anyone of French descent aiding the Allied cause.  Should Charles be caught, torture and death would surely follow and even his relatives in France would not be spared.

But Cynthia needed his help if she was to have any chance of gaining entrance to the heavily-guarded code room.  Charles agreed to help, risking his own life. And to pull off the risky heist, they would need a professional safecracker who could gain access to the Embassy’s safe where the Nazi codebooks were kept.

Enter the Georgia Cracker

One of the greatest secrets still surrounding World War II was the number of criminals who were recruited into secret service directly out of jail, for the same skills that put them there. One such colorful con was a safecracker known only as the “Georgia Cracker.”  He was released from prison in return for work on dangerous missions.

The Georgia Cracker joined Cynthia, Charles and Hunter, and the black-bag plan was finalized. By early June the date was set for the break-in. But first each had to swear an oath that if caught none would implicate the OSS or its British equivalent, the BSC.  To be safe, both General Donovan and Intrepid (William Stephenson, head of the British Security Coordination operating in the US) left the country.

On the night of June 19, 1942, the same night British Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s flying boat put down on the Anacostia River to attend the Second Washington Conference at the White House – Agent Cynthia crossed Connecticut Ave. Bridge with Charles. The two continued up Connecticut Ave. and made the familiar right turn onto Wyoming Ave. The reconciled lovers walked up the steps of the Embassy like they had done for several nights prior and greeted Andre Chevalier, the night guard.  Cynthia tried not to show it, but she was wary of his dog – a large Alsatian that had been written up in a local newspaper for excessive barking at night.

The couple brought with them several bottles of champagne, on the pretense that tonight was the anniversary of their first meeting.  Cynthia playfully coaxed the guard into joining them for a toast. When he wasn’t looking, she introduced a generous dose of Nembutal (a sleeping agent) into his glass.   Twenty minutes later the guard was sound asleep, and Cynthia then dosed the dog as well.  Given the all clear, the Georgia Cracker entered through the front door, stepped over the sleeping dog, and headed down the hallway to pick the lock to the code room.  Within moments, the three of them stood in front of the safe containing the codebooks.  Cynthia checked her watch; it wasn’t yet midnight.

Cynthia and Charles sat down on the divan in the private hallway outside his office and smoked, waiting nervously for the Georgia Cracker.  Minutes turned into hours. The Mosler-brand safe was old, its four tumblers rusty.  By the time the Georgia Cracker cracked the combination and turned the handle to open the safe door, it was perilously close to dawn, too late to copy the ciphers and have them back before the Embassy staff began their workday.

Cynthia watched helplessly as the convict closed and relocked the safe, careful to remove his fingerprints with a cloth.  Within the hour, she and Charles were back in her nest. She telephoned her handler to give him the bad news. Charles showered and returned to the Embassy to begin his day.  Fortunately, aside from a brutal hangover, the guard and his dog were unharmed and none the wiser.

Running Out of Time

Agent Cynthia was given the go ahead to make another attempt the following night, but now there were two serious complications.  The first was that they couldn’t attempt to drug the guard again, for fear they would arouse his suspicion.  The second was that, incredibly, the Georgia Cracker was sent off on another mission and temporarily unavailable.   Cynthia would have to open the safe by herself, using the combination the Georgia Cracker had written down for her.   Another agent would be outside the code room window, ready to receive the codebooks and take them to be copied.

Night came slowly on June 21st. Charles and his spy mistress once again set out for the Embassy.  Once again, the guard was waiting for them and let them in.  Once again, the handsome couple smoked and made friendly conversation with him before retiring to the divan.  They waited for over half an hour for the guard to finish his rounds. As Cynthia began to pick the code room lock, a nervous Charles asked her what to say should the guard appear and inquire about her whereabouts. “Tell him I’ve gone to the toilet,” she said.

Cynthia picked the lock and entered the code room with remarkable ease.  She took out the piece of paper on which the Georgia Cracker had written the safe combination and set about turning the dial: 4 left 5; 3 right 20; 2 left 95; 1 right 2; stop.  She then tried the handle on the safe, but it wouldn’t budge. Cynthia began to sweat: “The damned thing won’t open.”  She tried the combination again and again, but the safe refused to open.  She joined an exasperated Charles back at the divan. They left the Embassy empty-handed, forced to abort the mission.

Nerves were wearing thin for everyone.  Cynthia was ordered by her handlers to travel to New York: “I arrived at my Chief’s flat at about eight o’clock and from there set out in a cab for the long ride downtown.  I had no idea where we were going nor was I much enlightened when we drew up at an intersection of Broadway and he said: “Hop into that black car standing by the curb, and come back to the flat before returning to Washington.” 

Cynthia did as she was told and was greatly relieved to find the Georgia Cracker waiting for her in the next car. “I have never, repeat never, been so glad to see anyone in my life, I told him.”

            The two set out for a remote stretch of Jones Beach and stopped the car. The Georgia Cracker ordered Cynthia into the back seat.  There, under the seat, was an exact replica of the Vichy safe.  Teacher and student spent the next several hours ‘cracking’ it.  Once the Georgia Cracker was satisfied Cynthia could open the safe, they returned to the city.  But once back, Cynthia was adamant that the Georgia Cracker accompany her on the next attempt on the Embassy.  True to form, Cynthia was impossible to resist. Both she and the Georgia Cracker returned to Washington.

One Final Attempt

A first-quarter moon hung over the Capitol the night of June 23rd as Cynthia and Charles made their last trek across the familiar bridge. “But as we turned the corner from the main avenue to the smaller one leading to the Chancery, I noticed two FBI cars parked at a discreet distance from our destination.  They were half-hidden in the shadows of the trees, and their lights were dimmed.”

Cynthia grabbed Charles by the arm and led him away from the streetlamps.  They made their way to the Embassy doors and scurried up the stairs, only to find the Embassy guard missing from his post.  Charles used his own key to enter the Embassy.  They waited anxiously on the divan, wondering whether the night guard might be an informant for the FBI.  Was this a trap?

To Charles’s astonishment, Cynthia made a sudden radical decision. “I left the divan and took off my dress, tossing it onto the floor in the middle of the hall.  Then I took off my slip and threw it in the same direction.  It was followed by my brassiere, my panties, along with my garter belt and stockings; I was now quite naked except for a string of pearls and my high-heeled shoes.” 

Her timing was perfect. Just then the door behind her opened and her body was bathed in the beam from the night guard’s flashlight.   Embarrassed, the guard muttered a quick apology and withdrew, leaving Charles and his Lady Godiva to resume their work.

Cynthia remained au naturel as she signaled to the Georgia Cracker to enter through the window of Charles’s office.  The second-story man got an eyeful as the naked agent led him to the code room where he quickly picked the lock.  She held his flashlight on the dial of the safe as he worked the combination.  Within moments the safe was open, the codebooks theirs for the taking.  Cynthia pressed them to her naked bosom and walked over to the window, where an OSS agent was waiting to spirit them away.

Cynthia turned back to the Georgia Cracker, and with sincere gratitude, embraced him.  She bid the lovable con man goodbye, then returned to Charles at the divan.  Cynthia dressed, and the two settled in for a long night of waiting.

Cynthia chain-smoked Capstan cigarettes, her favorite brand, as her imagination considered every contingency.  What if the guard became suspicious and forced them to leave?  Who would put the codebooks back in the safe?  They could knock the guard out and kidnap him.  But then the Embassy personnel would know the codes were compromised.  What of the G-men outside?  At any moment, they could storm in and take her away for interrogation.  After all, the Embassy was in their jurisdiction. They already suspected her of being a spy.

She tiptoed to the window and peeked out from behind the shade.  Sure enough, there they were, hidden in the shadows across the street. “I went back to the divan and sat down in an attempt to persuade myself that “sweating it out” wasn’t so bad really, and that surely the boys at the front were having a worse time than I. Anyhow, there was now only another half hour until I would take up my post at the door.”

            At five minutes to four, while the night guard was off making his last rounds, Cynthia was at the door and saw the OSS agent approach the Embassy.  She reached out and grabbed the books from him, then turned and cautiously ran for the code room.  She purposely did not wear lipstick, in order to kiss each codebook for luck before she returned it to the safe. Then she was careful to wipe away all trace of her presence as the Georgia Cracker had taught her.  Moments later, she and Charles walked hand in hand down the Embassy steps.  Even if the Bureau boys saw them now, they could prove nothing.

Back at her swallow’s nest later that morning, Cynthia heard a knock at her door.  She opened it to find Agent Hunter, smiling and smartly dressed in a U.S. Army summer uniform. Cynthia followed Hunter to the other end of the hotel.  He led her into a room full of military personnel, surrounded by photographic equipment and hundreds of papers covering the furniture. They were photostats of the Vichy codebooks.  This was where they had brought the books to be copied – down the hall from her very own nest. Cynthia looked at the crystal clear prints of the secret ciphers and smiled to herself.

            “Altogether, it was the proudest moment of my life.”

November 8, 1942, Washington, D.C.: Agent Cynthia was boarding a train bound for New York when she saw the morning paper carrying the headline “Allies Storm North Africa!”  She then looked up to see a handsome, uniformed man admiring her.  She smiled instantly, having recognized her old spy handler. Agent Hunter stood at attention and saluted her.  Then he approached and whispered in her ear:

“We have reached a turning point in the war.  The allied troops have landed in North Africa, with practically no enemy resistance.  The reason that there was no resistance is a military secret, but I think you should know that it is due to your ciphers.  They have changed the whole course of the war.”

General Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of Operation Torch, and 107,000 Anglo-American troops landed on the shores of North Africa in a surprise attack.  The battle that had begun on a tiny piece of sovereign Vichy soil located in Washington D.C. less than five months prior, concluded in the liberation of Casablanca, Oran and Algiers in less than three days.  The decisive victory put an end to Hitler’s dominance on the continent, deprived Germany of the French fleet and shortened the war itself.

Back in Los Angeles, Jack Warner and producer Hal Wallis rushed the opening of Casablanca to capitalize on the headlines. The movie premiered November 26, 1942 and went into full-release the following year. Bogart and Bergman are immortalized as Rick and Ilsa. Meanwhile, Agent Cynthia has been all but forgotten. But the World War II Mata Hari didn’t seduce the enemy for fame or fortune.  Hers was a much higher calling:

“I did my duty as I saw it.  It involved me in situations in which respectable women draw back.  But wars are not won by ‘respectable’ methods…I hope and believe I was a patriot.”