Life in Secrets: Vera Atkins & the Missing Agents of WWII by Sarah Helm Page A
Authors: Sarah Helm
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back in August that Pickersgill's Archdeacon circuit “must be considered lost,” but he was now more convinced than ever that Bodington was wrong.
Kay Gimpel (née Moore), who worked for another branch of SOE, told me she saw in a flash that Pickersgill's Christmas message meant he was caught, but she never dreamed of telling Buckmaster. Like Pickersgill, Gimpel was a French Canadian and the two had long been friends. “He was a brilliant, charming boy,” she said. “Tall and gangly with a very sharp wit.” Before his mission Pickersgill and John Macalister, who was a Rhodes scholar, used to spend time at Kay's house at 54a Walton Street. “We all yacked a lot, and Frank loved to go off and make lots of tea.”
Kay used to travel into work on the same bus as Buckmaster, who one day in December 1943 sat down next to her and asked if she could think of a Christmas message for Frank. “I said tell him the samovar is stillbubbling at 54a.” The reply came back a few days later: “Thank you for your message.”
“It was an awful moment,” said Kay. “If he was all right, I knew he would have said something personal and secret to our little group.”
Why had she not told Buckmaster of her fears?
“He would not have listened to somebody like me. I was junior in rank.”
In January 1944 there were new crises to face. One agent who had been held briefly by the Gestapo at their Paris headquarters in Avenue Foch claimed that Prosper was cooperating with a German named Boemelburg and with another named Kieffer. Prosper was said to have plotted a large map for the Gestapo showing F Section circuits. “Total provocation. Obviously untrue,” noted Buckmaster.
Allegations of treachery against Henri Déricourt, first made the previous summer, had also spread. So persistent were the accusations against the air movements officer that in February 1944 Buckmaster was obliged by MI5 and SOE's own security directorate to recall him for investigation. Déricourt flew back to England on the night of February 8–9, bringing with him his wife, Jeanne. He protested his innocence and was reassured by Buckmaster, who told him he had nothing to fear from the charges and put him up in the Savoy.
Déricourt had won Buckmaster s trust from the moment they first met. The thirty-five-year-old from Château-Thierry, birthplace of La Fontaine (whose fables he loved to cite), had an easy manner, a quiet confidence, and a muscular physique, with fair hair curling into a quiff. His charms had impressed not only Buckmaster and most in F Section but also the pilots of “Moon Squadron.” The self-educated son of a postman, he had been drawn to the thrill of flying from a young age, going on to organise aerial events before training as a commercial pilot. In 1942 Déricourt had been promised a job by British Overseas Airways, but when offered a role with SOE, he had readily accepted this instead.
MI5, who checked the Frenchman's history, warned Buckmaster at the time that they were “unable to guarantee his reliability.” The reasonthey gave was that, after he was first offered the job with British Overseas Airways, Déricourt had delayed coming to England, spending several more weeks in France. During this time “he would have been a likely subject for German attention,” cautioned MI5, but Buckmaster saw nothing to fear.
As Déricourt's interrogation began in February 1944, Buckmaster conceded that, should the allegations against the air movements officer prove true, every agent landed in France by air over the previous ten months, and every agent brought back to England, would be contaminated. But Buckmaster refused to believe the allegations would ever be proven and declared it an “SOE war objective” to clear Déricourt's name.
Throughout this time Vera had remained as loyal and diligent as ever, and Buckmaster recorded in another effusive note: “An extremely able, hard working, capable and loyal officer. Nothing is too much
Kay Gimpel (née Moore), who worked for another branch of SOE, told me she saw in a flash that Pickersgill's Christmas message meant he was caught, but she never dreamed of telling Buckmaster. Like Pickersgill, Gimpel was a French Canadian and the two had long been friends. “He was a brilliant, charming boy,” she said. “Tall and gangly with a very sharp wit.” Before his mission Pickersgill and John Macalister, who was a Rhodes scholar, used to spend time at Kay's house at 54a Walton Street. “We all yacked a lot, and Frank loved to go off and make lots of tea.”
Kay used to travel into work on the same bus as Buckmaster, who one day in December 1943 sat down next to her and asked if she could think of a Christmas message for Frank. “I said tell him the samovar is stillbubbling at 54a.” The reply came back a few days later: “Thank you for your message.”
“It was an awful moment,” said Kay. “If he was all right, I knew he would have said something personal and secret to our little group.”
Why had she not told Buckmaster of her fears?
“He would not have listened to somebody like me. I was junior in rank.”
In January 1944 there were new crises to face. One agent who had been held briefly by the Gestapo at their Paris headquarters in Avenue Foch claimed that Prosper was cooperating with a German named Boemelburg and with another named Kieffer. Prosper was said to have plotted a large map for the Gestapo showing F Section circuits. “Total provocation. Obviously untrue,” noted Buckmaster.
Allegations of treachery against Henri Déricourt, first made the previous summer, had also spread. So persistent were the accusations against the air movements officer that in February 1944 Buckmaster was obliged by MI5 and SOE's own security directorate to recall him for investigation. Déricourt flew back to England on the night of February 8–9, bringing with him his wife, Jeanne. He protested his innocence and was reassured by Buckmaster, who told him he had nothing to fear from the charges and put him up in the Savoy.
Déricourt had won Buckmaster s trust from the moment they first met. The thirty-five-year-old from Château-Thierry, birthplace of La Fontaine (whose fables he loved to cite), had an easy manner, a quiet confidence, and a muscular physique, with fair hair curling into a quiff. His charms had impressed not only Buckmaster and most in F Section but also the pilots of “Moon Squadron.” The self-educated son of a postman, he had been drawn to the thrill of flying from a young age, going on to organise aerial events before training as a commercial pilot. In 1942 Déricourt had been promised a job by British Overseas Airways, but when offered a role with SOE, he had readily accepted this instead.
MI5, who checked the Frenchman's history, warned Buckmaster at the time that they were “unable to guarantee his reliability.” The reasonthey gave was that, after he was first offered the job with British Overseas Airways, Déricourt had delayed coming to England, spending several more weeks in France. During this time “he would have been a likely subject for German attention,” cautioned MI5, but Buckmaster saw nothing to fear.
As Déricourt's interrogation began in February 1944, Buckmaster conceded that, should the allegations against the air movements officer prove true, every agent landed in France by air over the previous ten months, and every agent brought back to England, would be contaminated. But Buckmaster refused to believe the allegations would ever be proven and declared it an “SOE war objective” to clear Déricourt's name.
Throughout this time Vera had remained as loyal and diligent as ever, and Buckmaster recorded in another effusive note: “An extremely able, hard working, capable and loyal officer. Nothing is too much
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