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Friday, April 21, 2017

S Is For Clifford Stoll And The Hanover Hacker: A To Z Challenge 2017

The year was 1986. In the Lawrence Berkeley Lab the computers had impressive amounts of disk space and memory - a hundred megabytes of disk space and one hundred and twenty eight k of memory. They were huge machines too, a long way from the little smart phone in your pocket or even your laptop computer. 

In this day and age, computer hacking has become a large part of spying, but in those days it was new. The Internet was in its infancy.  

An astronomer called Clifford Stoll was just starting a new job in computer programming when he was brought a puzzle to solve, a small accounting error of an unpaid 75 cents. He thought at first a student had been fooling around, but it was more than that. Much more. 

Someone was logging into the network with system manager privileges, under the name "Hunter" which belonged to a staff member who hadn't been there for a year. The system was being used to enter other networks. 

Networks that had access to military secrets. 

Cliff sometimes slept in the lab because the hacker was logging in at night. Over ten months he got piles of printouts which showed the mysterious hacker logging into military bases. He could have blocked the hacker, but they would only have found another way in and then he would have lost track of them. 

It took a while to get the interest of the CIA and FBI. It was all so new - who had even heard of hacking in those days? But with their unofficial help, the hacker was traced to Bremen in Hanover in West Germany. He was a man called Markus Hess, who, with a group of four others, was selling information to the KGB. 

Cliff had an idea. If the hacker wanted military secrets, he'd supply them. They didn't have to be real military secrets, of course. A trap was set, a fake military network called SDInet. SDI was the official name for the Reagan program nicknamed Star Wars. It was what Hess had shown most interest in. 

The confirmation came in the mail to "SDInet", through a Bulgarian spy, using nonsense from the fake files, from Markus Hess's customers, trying to check they were getting their money's worth. 

Hess and his fellow hackers went on trial, but before they could serve their long sentences the Berlin Wall fell and among all the fuss they only received a two year suspended sentence for what they had done. One had apparently committed suicide - if only he had waited...

Clifford Stoll received only a thank you certificate from the CIA for what he had done, but he also wrote a bestselling book about it all, The Cuckoo's Egg,  so that was all right. And eventually he began making quirky items called Klein bottles, three-D Möbius strips which sell very well to mathematicians. 

Interestingly, these days he is not a great fan of the Internet, which he feels is destroying communication rather than improving it, and is putting people like me(librarians) out of work. I do have to disagree with him about library card catalogues, which he thought were beautiful. If he'd ever had to spend hours first writing out five or more catalogue cards for one book, typing, filing them, then pulling them all out if the book turned out to be missing during stocktake, he would, like us, embrace the library computer technology he sneers at. And by the way, we used to throw out those beautiful artistic cards ourselves when they weren't needed because someone had stolen the book they described! 

However, it is fascinating to wonder how a twenty-first century Clifford Stoll would handle a spy-hacking case. I believe hackers are actually hired to point out weaknesses in security systems these days, but it goes on. With the Internet and constantly improving computer technology, the genie has really been let out of the Klein bottle. 

For an interview with Clifford Stoll, one of my sources for this post, check out this link.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

R Is For Roman Espionage


In an earlier post, I mentioned the Romans and their spying methods, such as the frumentarii, supply sergeants who were a useful source of intelligence, and Julius Caesar's private spy network, which brought him a list of the assassins moments before he was killed, a list he didn't read.

I felt that Roman spying deserved its own post - besides, it was that or the Rosenbergs and I found that topic too depressing for me. 

The Romans were big on winning by fighting - and they were very good at it, as we all know. Before they started conquering other countries, they began at home, with the other nations located on the Italian peninsula. 

And what does an army need? Good intelligence gathering, of course! Roman scouts did a good job of finding out what was needed, but there were other methods. There were the frumentarii, of course, who worked for the army, collecting wheat for the soldiers and information for their commanders while they were about it. I believe they were involved in tracking down Christians during the persecutions; fortunately, the Christians had their own information-gathering networks. But these came later, from about the reign of Hadrian onward. 

Hannibal Crossing The Alps. Poussin. Wikipedia Commons

During the Punic Wars, fought against Carthage, the Romans learned about spying from someone who really knew the job: Hannibal. His agents were good. They had to be; one unlucky spy who sent his army to the wrong city instead of one with a similar name, was crucified for his mistake. Whoops! 

Scipio Africanus. Rubens. Wikimedia Commons

But Scipio Africanus, the Roman leader, had his own methods. In one case, he sent officers to an enemy camp to discuss a truce. They took along a bunch of "slaves", actually officers in disguise. One of them was an officer who might have been recognised and he needed the freedom to snoop around the camp. He was given a sound beating. The Numidians, whose camp it was, were never going to believe a man of standing would allow that sort of thing to be done to him, so they paid no attention. The so-called slaves were now free to poke their noses into the layout of the camp, numbers and such, while their colleagues were keeping the enemy talking. 

Actually, the Romans had a lot of spies and spying, but not really anything that would correspond to MI6 or the CIA. This is because, apart from the agents working for the Emperors, there were a lot of private networks. Every highborn Marcus, Gaius and Gnaeus had his own people working to find out what was going on somewhere else and protect him. Some of them employed people to keep track of what was going on in their own homes! It was a messy system. 

And even the ones who did work for the state had two jobs rather than a cover identity.  There were the above mentioned frumentarii, for example. Augustus started a postal and courier service that provided a chance to communicate vital secret information. I keep getting this vision of a postie carrying state secrets in his bag... 

Those working for the Emperors were working specifically for the Emperors, to keep them alive. 

Did it work? Not really. It has been estimated that about seventy five per cent - three quarters - of Roman Emperors were assassinated. 

Monday, April 17, 2017

Bryce Fegan: A Guest Post On Fairytales

As a brief break from the A to Z Challenge, I thought it might be interesting to give you a guest post by Bryce Fegan, whose picture storybook The Grumpface will be available in the next couple of weeks. Bryce is an Aussie writer living in Canberra, and thought the post by fellow Canberra-dweller Gillian Polack was fascinating, though, of course, unconnected with children's fiction. He is sharing his thoughts about the importance of fairytales and explaining how this entered his book. Enjoy!

Where did all the Happily-Ever-After’s Go?
Books have long been portals into worlds otherwise inaccessible to us. They take us to places of incredible depth and wonder, and make us long for the adventures and meaning our protagonists inevitably find. Books often describe worlds that not even major films can fully capture. In books we are free to experience these worlds at our own pace. We are free to dwell in moments of inspiration, wonder or emotion. We are free to let our imaginations soar – constructing scenes that have meaning to our own experiences and our own desires. These small, rectangular objects are precious, because in the complex and changing world around us, they not only offer us refuge but they allow us to escape into another dreamer’s imagination. It is here that hope abounds. Hope for a better world, a more exciting world, a world of meaning. It is here that we are confronted with the strange reality – that despite the acceptance we have for the world around us, we all yet have a deeper hope that there might be something more. 
What makes fairy tales so powerful, is that they generally distil this deeper hope into the simplest of narratives. They don’t try to be outstandingly clever or to produce tear-inducing twists. They are safe and accessible stories. Stories that have an undefinable magic to them. Stories that feel cosy and warm, while describing scenes that are otherwise dark and cold. They are stories that are constructed so simply, they can be understood by young children, yet so deep, they somehow maintain their pull on us, well into adulthood.
Fairy tales tend to capture our hopes in broad and relatable terms. They often echo our natural desire that good always wins over evil, that success comes with hard work, and that the fantastical exists in even the most mundane places. They reach into our deepest yearnings, and whisper to us through the dark – that magic may yet exist, that our true destiny may yet be revealed, and that our life may yet have an incredible purpose. It is the ability of a fairy tale to play so masterfully upon these hopes that makes them so timeless. 
Unfortunately, by and large, the magic of fairy tales have been eroded by our modern reality. Replaced by narratives that prefer to reflect on ‘issues of the day’, or the harsh realities of life. Even the emerging trend of ‘modern fairy tales’ or ‘fairy tales with a twist’ tend to reflect the idea that our evolved societies are required to update the simplicity and relevance of these narratives to reflect our more mundane, daily struggles. Certainly there is nothing wrong with these modern styles of books – many are written very well and are indeed quite relevant. Yet I would argue that many of these modern retellings borrow only the surface-elements of a fairy tale, while leaving behind the very thing that has made our traditional favourites so transgenerational.
I have already touched on some of the broad hopes that are injected into every memorable fairy tale. However many fairy tales will also include additional concepts that contribute to their uniqueness. The most obvious, is that they tend to be made up of morally consistent characters. These morals will inevitably dictate their destiny. So naturally, the honest, pure-of-heart and caring characters will always win. The evil, selfish and greedy will always be stronger, but without a change of heart, will always lose. The greatest fairy tales throughout history are often those with characters that exist in relative obscurity, only to rise (against all odds) to the heights of mastery or true-purpose. And this, is perhaps the most important hope that fairy tales play upon. Put another way, fairy tales provide us with the hope that happily-ever-afters really are possible.
The Grumpface
I decided to write The Grumpface after looking through a number of modern fairy tales and feeling as though they were missing something crucial. It took some contemplation but it appeared to me that these modern tales had traded that deeper hope we tend to see in Andersen, Perrault and Grimm, in order to appeal to the sensibilities of our time. Some were fantastic books in their own right, yet none of them contained that deeper magic (to borrow from C.S. Lewis). I yearned for new titles with the familiar enchantments of those older tales, and having been one of those people who has written fiction their whole life, I turned my attention to filling this void.
The Grumpface is a fairy tale that (at the very least, attempts) to hark back to those familiar stories we grew up with. It is about a clumsy young inventor’s quest for love, and the challenges he must face to find it. But it is also a tale of bravery, absurdity and happiness, and the power of these qualities over negativity and sheer grumpiness.
Our tale begins in a small village that sits beside a dark forest. Dan, the hero of our story, is an optimistic, young inventor who suffers the unfortunate trait of being clumsy. Working day and night on his inventions, he hopes that his efforts might gain the attention of Bella, a flower girl whom he secretly admires.
When it comes to his attention that Bella has no more roses to sell, he decides to brave the dark forest in order to find her one. The only problem is that the forest is inhabited by a grumpy creature known as the Grumpface, and this creature is not known for his kindness to lost travellers.
It doesn’t take long before our poor hero is confronted by the Grumpface who quickly challenges the young inventor to three tasks. If he is able to pass even a single challenge, he will be freed, if not, he will remain forever in the forest.
It is my hope that this tale is enjoyed by children and adults alike. After all, most good fairy tales are. I have also tried my best to inject that magic and wonder that these tales are known for. Yet if there is one thing I hope The Grumpface does more than anything else, it is that it reconnects those who read it with that deeper hope. 
The Grumpface will be available in Kindle, ePub, Hardcover and Paperback from most online bookstores from May 1.

About the Author
BCR Fegan is an Australian author who has written a number of fairy tales and fantasies for children and young adults. He is inspired by stories that resonate deeply with our desire for adventure, yearning for magic and search for meaning.

N Is For ... Ninja! A To Z Challenge 2017


Ninja, Hokusai print. Public domain

There has been a lot of nonsense spoken and written about the ninja, the professional spies and mercenaries of Japan. My favourite idiocy is the story of the dwarf ninja who came up from a toilet pit and killed his victim while he was relieving himself. Ouch! Also, they were supposed to have mystical, magical powers.

Actually, I imagine the ninja clans would have been only too happy for people to believe they had magical powers - it made for good marketing. If you want to read some wonderful fiction set in a world in which the ninja actually do have supernatural powers, I recommend Lian Hearn's series Tales Of The Otori. But that's fantasy fiction. 

But the stories were spread because they were very good at what they did do - espionage, arson, assassination, mercenary soldiering, etc. Their disguises were excellent. If they had spent all their time in those cool black costumes we imagine them wearing, they might have had trouble convincing anyone they were not spooky assassins! 

In feudal Japan, you couldn't ask samurai, the equivalent of European knights, to go sneaking around spying and killing people without facing them "mano a mano". That was - tacky. Worse, it was dishonourable. So the daimyos, the lords, had to hire professional spies. If caught, they would die horribly, like the vile, dishonourable, loathsome creatures they were. But hey, it was a living! 

There were two clans, from the Iga and Koga areas of Japan, who set up training in remote villages. A ninja - or shinobi as they're known within Japan, from a word meaning "hidden" - started training in childhood. They learned martial arts, of course, and did a lot of tough exercises, but also learned a regular occupation they could carry out while gathering information. Medicine was useful as an occupation, for obvious reasons. But there were plenty of others. 

Not that there weren't security efforts going on. For example, there were the famous squeaky nightingale floors, so called because they "sang" when someone stepped on them. That would definitely get the attention of the guards. But what could you do when the ninja you wanted to avoid were actually living in the castle as sleeper agents? And while they couldn't actually walk through walls, as legend had it, there were plenty of crawl spaces for those who knew where they were. 

And then there were ninja working for the lord of the castle. In the case of one siege, a ninja slipped out into the enemy camp and stole the banner. Next morning it was waving from the castle walls. Maybe it would have been more useful to simply kill the enemy leader, but that kind of psychological "Nyah, Nyah!" worked too. 

In the 1400s there were around seventy ninja clans on Honshu, the main island of Japan. The leaders were jonin, the middle men the chunin, whose job was to arrange contracts with employers. The genin were the actual fighters, who often didn't know who their boss was, probably wise. 

There were ninja working for just one noble family. The most famous ninja leader, Fuma Kotaro Noboyuki, was part of the Fuma clan who were working for the Hojo family. He lived in the sixteenth century and has become a part of Japanese folklore. Kotaro led a group of 200 ninja. Apart from the spying, he led them in a night attack on the Takeda forces. First, they faked an attack, sending in horsès with straw dummies as riders, while the real ninja smuggled themselves in. In the dark and confusion, the Takeda were doing the ninjas' job for them, killing each other instead of Kotaro's men. 

I can imagine the enemy leaders crying out, "Oh, the cads! That is completely dishonourable!"

Sneaky but smart!

Tomorrow: O is for Odysseus!

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Q Is For... Q! Gadget-Maker Supreme: A To Z Challenge 2017


Did you know there actually is a Q? You know, the geek who builds fascinating spy gadgets for secret agents? Well, of course, there has to be someone doing it, but a newspaper article I stumbled across while looking for something starting with Q actually said that the current Q working for the British intelligence agency MI6 is a woman. It didn't mention her name and most of the article was about how women are now doing well in the intelligence services in general - here's the link if you want it - but it tells me that Q stands for Quartermaster. Who would have thought it? Though it does fit in nicely with the Roman frumentarii - wheat collectors - who worked as spies while doing their jobs as quartermasters(see I is for Inte resting Spy Bits And Pieces). They didn't make gadgets, though.

I guess it makes sense, though. You go to a quartermaster in the army to get uniforms and supplies, so why not supplies of gadgets?

What would it take to be one of these people, I wonder? In this day and age, we're a lot more technologically sophisticated than during the Cold War. As someone commented in my gadgets post, it might be a bit difficult to get a lipstick gun through customs these days! And technology has improved since the Cold War. Computer hacking is more common than sneaking around dark offices getting information from filing cabinets. It's safer too, for the agents concerned. So, no need for glow-in-the-dark mini-cameras in rings or whatever.

But still plenty to do. You'd need a real technical genius with imagination. And they exist.

Because I'm a reader and viewer I'm going to divert for a few fictional Q characters.

There is Smithers in Anthony Horowitz's Alex Rider YA fiction. He's a very fat man who is very good with his gadgets. In Stormbreaker, the first novel, he supplies the young spy with such items as a yoyo that is motorised, clips to the belt and has 30 metres of very strong thread for climbing, a jar of zit cream that can be used for picking locks when the cream touches metal and a Game Boy that has four games on it, each of them doing something that is definitely not about game-playing.

Toby Venables has done a series set in mediaeval England, Hunter of Sherwood, with Guy of Gisburne, the villain of the Robin Hood stories, as the unlikely hero. This Gisburne is more or less a cross between James Bond and Indiana Jones, according to the author. He is working for Prince John, who is basically his M, and has his own Q, a Welshman called Llewellyn, who gives him all sorts of useful stuff to take on his adventures.

Terry Pratchett's History Monk Qu creates gadgets for the monks to take when they go out into the world to fix problems in time. He likes things that go bang. In Thief Of Time he is working on a begging bowl that can be turned into a deadly weapon, and you can also eat rice from it.

The gadget maker in Get Smart is Carlson. His gadgets are sometimes over-the-top, such as the car phone disguised as a cigarette lighter and cigarette lighter disguised as a phone. Max drives him crazy by wrecking his gadgets before they're used, eg the spy fly and the gun umbrella, which goes off when Max opens it.

Navy SEALs wearing diving gear. Public domain

Now, back to the real world. Check out this interview in Gizmodo, with a real-life Q. Ralph Osterhout says he started life with a love of all things James Bond. He learned to shoot, drive and fight. When he was only twenty-two, he says, he even built a mini-submarine because of one he'd seen in a Bond movie. True? Well, that's what he tells the interviewer. I don't imagine it was one you could do a lot with, but young geeky fannish types can do the most amazing stuff. I know a guy who does high-quality props for the movies; before that, he created a K9 robot dog that was better than the original one in Dr Who (it did three movements - the one on TV was actually three props that did one thing each), just so he could dress as Tom Baker for science fiction conventions. I went to a convention where the guest of honour was Jeremy Bulloch, who played Boba Fett in Star Wars. For fun, he put on a suit of Boba Fett armour made by a fan in the audience and wore it up the aisle as he approached the podium. As he stripped it off, he said that was better than the one he'd worn in the movie! Ralph Osterhout was just another fan who was even better than the ones I've mentioned - though I think those two guys I've mentioned could probably make gadgets for spies if they wanted to. It's a tech thing and a lot of kids I know even now would be able to have a go, at least. Fans go over the top, creating stuff you can use in real life, rather than props that are just good enough to convince viewers in films, so they can use them at SF conventions. Of course, there's CGI now, but they can do that too.

Ralph didn't actually work for the government until he had already been making underwater gadgets that they decided they could use. By that time, he was running a company making high-tech underwater gear. He built night-vision goggles for Desert Storm and two dive vehicles he had built were used in James Bond movies, though those would surely have been just props.

Ralph can't share all the gadgets he has made, but told his interviewer some fascinating stuff. There's one bug that is disguised as bird poop that lands on a window. Mind you, I'd want to wash my window if I saw something disgusting on it, but if you're several floors up and in an office, you leave it till the window washers can get to it and by that time it would have done its job.

I'll let you read the interview - no point in telling you everything he said!

Saturday, April 15, 2017

P Is For Popov...Dusko Popov: A To Z Challenge 2017



Dusko Popov 1940. Public domain.

"The name is Popov. Dusko Popov."

He probably never said that, but Yugoslav lawyer Dusko Popov may well have been one of the inspirations for the fictional agent James Bond. Like Bond, he enjoyed the good life, wine, women and song, not to mention fast cars. Early in the war, he offered his services to British Naval Intelligence, which accepted him. He had already agreed to spy for the Nazis, so he would be a useful double agent. Fortunately, he was a double agent for the British. 

At this time, the U.S. was not in the war. It didn't join until after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, in December 1941. If the U.S. authorities had paid attention to one of his reports - a warning about the impending attack - history might have been very different. At the very least, the death and destruction left by the bombing raid could have been avoided, even if it was then decided that the attack plans warranted the U.S. entering the war anyway. He had been sent to the U.S. by the Nazis to find out details of the fortifications at Pearl Harbor. But J. Edgar Hoover, in charge of the FBI, didn't trust him, knowing he was a double agent, and didn't pass on the information to his superiors. 

Dusko passed on fake information to the Nazis, which helped win the war for the Allies. For example, he told them the Allies would land at Calais rather than Normandy. After the war, he settled down in France and got married. His wife and children didn't know anything about his wartime adventures until he released an autobiography in 1974, Spy/Counterspy. The autobiography was apparently mostly accurate, with a few colourful bits of fiction thrown in. 

Dusko Popov lived till 1981, when his smoking and drinking finally caught up with him and he died at the age of 69.

So, what about his James Bond connections? He used to call his uncle for advice on the phone number 26-007

And the British Naval Intelligence officer who hired him was called Fleming. Ian Fleming. 

O Is For...Odysseus: A To Z Challenge 2017


Odysseus and the Sirens. Public domain.

Today we're going to take a trip into the world of Greek mythology.

You've probably heard of Odysseus, the King of the small island kingdom of Ithaca. He is known more often by his Roman name of Ulysses. He was the guy who came up with the idea of constructing the Trojan Horse. (And we still have that term for a piece of computer malware used to hack into your computer account!)

But before that, Odysseus did a bit of spying. He was the smartest of the Greek heroes. In my opinion, he may have been the only one of them who had a brain, actually. Odysseus had never wanted to join the expedition to Troy. He had a kingdom to run, a wife he loved and a baby son, Telemachus. But he had been part of a group agreement meant to stop the suitors of Helen of Sparta from getting into a war with each other. In fact, the agreement had been his idea. 

Trying to get out of it and failing, he reluctantly went off to the Trojan War. When it had been going for ten years, Odysseus had had enough. More than enough. There was a prophecy that Troy would never fall until the Palladium, a stone sacred to the goddess Athena, was removed from its hiding place under the city. Odysseus didn't fancy another ten years or more parked outside those walls.

He disguised himself as a grubby old beggar and sneaked in. After ten years, presumably there were holes and tunnels and I bet there were lower-class Trojans and Greeks selling each other supplies. Anyway. He got in and went off to find out where the stone that could help him get home was located. While he was about it, he looked around him.

Queen Helen saw and recognised him.  That was actually good news for him, because she, too, had had enough. Helen took him to where the stone was located and helped him get out of town.

The rest is mythology. Without its magical protection, Troy fell to Odysseus's next bright idea,the Trojan  Horse, with some help from another Greek spy, Sinon, planted to tell the Trojans that he'd been left behind and the Horse was an offering to the gods. 

Unfortunately for Odysseus, he was stuck with ten years more of travel before he finally made it home and then he disguised himself again, to make sure of his welcome. He didn't fool his old hunting dog, which recognised him through the disguise and licked his hand before finally dying... He did fool nearly everyone else.

Odysseus would have made a good professional spy, no? 

L Is For...Hedy Lamarr: A To Z Challenge 2017

Hedy Lamarr. Public domain image

Hedy Lamarr was a beautiful glamour star in Hollywood in the 1940s. She had been in some German films before fleeing Europe, but her career really took off when she reached the U.S.

But she wasn't just a pretty face. As the trophy wife of an arms dealer working for the Nazis in her native Austria, she was taken to meetings to be shown off. Like other possessors of trophy wives, her husband never thought she might actually be listening to the secrets he and his customers were discussing. No doubt he thought that any brain in that beautiful head was occupied with clothes, make-up and the next party. 

Little did he know...

Hedy - then Hedwig Kiesler - had a very good brain, one she was not going to use in support of the Nazis. She ran off to Paris(there's a story about her drugging her maid in her escape). There, she met Hollywood producer Louis B Mayer, who offered her a contract. 

In the U.S. she wanted to become a part of the National Inventors' Council. Instead, she was asked to raise money for the war effort by selling kisses. She did this, raising a lot of money in one night by selling kisses at $25,000 each! Her lips must have needed a retread after all that... 

Hedy Lamarr was not a spy. What she did was contribute - potentially, anyway - to blocking enemy interference with, or eavesdropping on, submarines. At a party she met a composer called George Antheil. Between them, the composer and the actress worked out something based on player piano rolls. It's called frequency hopping and it's still in use, but not for counter-intelligence or blocking the enemy.

It was not adopted by the U.S. Navy till the patent ran out, well after the war.

Nowadays, you use the invention of Hedy Lamarr and George Antheil every day, whenever you use your smart phone. The principles went into WiFi, CDMA and Bluetooth. As a result, the two of them were inducted into the Inventors' Hall Of Fame. 

When the elderly Hedy was invited to come and collect an award for contributions to science, she snorted, "Hmph! About time!"

It certainly was. And nice to know that someone who could have been a femme fatale spy instead became an inventor. 

Tomorrow: M is for Herbert Dyce Murphy, the Aussie Cross-Dressing Spy

Friday, April 14, 2017

M Is For... Herbert Dyce Murphy: A To Z Challenge 2017


The Arbour by E.Phillips-Fox, Public Domain.

Over a hundred years ago, a young lady stood painting pretty watercolour views of  French railways. Watercolour painting was a common activity for young middle class women at the time and nobody looked twice at her except, perhaps, to admire her.

But the young lady was not a woman - and the painting was for the purposes of information gathering. World War I had not begun, but at this time, Britain was not on the friendliest of terms with France or Belgium. If the countries did go to war with each other, the soldiers would be using trains. 

The young man was Herbert Dyce Murphy, an Australian who had been studying in England. Born in Melbourne in 1879, to a wealthy pastoralist family with two properties, he decided he was not interested in the family business and, during his summer holidays, worked as a sailor, something that worked out well for him later in his life. 

 Let's get it straight. Herbert was not, as far as we know, transgender. He was not even a transvestite; the female clothes were just part of the job. When he finally decided he had had enough, he threw off his woman's disguise and returned to his male life. What he was, was a fine actor. That was how he got the gig in the first place, when he was seen playing a female role in a Greek play at Oxford University. The intelligence person who saw him offered him a spying job, disguised as a woman because a young lady doing watercolours was far less likely to be suspected than a man taking notes. Photography existed, but this was 1903, long before the tiny spy cameras of the Cold War. 

Herbert learned from a family friend how to move like a woman, especially getting in and out of a hansom cab. He grew his hair, because it was safer than wearing a wig. When he was ready, he got on a yacht and went on holidays up and down the French coast. Like other young ladies he had a chaperone. In his case, it was to make sure nobody got near enough to Miss "Edith" as he was calling himself, to ask questions. 

Somehow he got away with it for five years, according to the stories he told later. By that time, the young man was less girlish and probably had more trouble hiding the stubble! Miss Edith retired as a spy and became Mr Murphy again. 

While he was at it, though, he had quite a few adventures - and admirers, including a Frenchman who proposed to him and a German officer who chased him through a train. Once, during a storm on his ship, he came rushing out in a pink nightie to help(just as well the crew knew about him!)

 See that painting at the top of this post? The young lady with a parasol might just be Herbert! Well, that's what he claimed, anyway. If you're ever in Melbourne, take a wander through the Ian Potter centre, which is the Australian art section of the National   Gallery of Victoria, and decide for yourself. Myself, I'll never see that painting again without a giggle. 

The adventures continued. After retiring as a spy, Herbert went to sea as a navigator. He applied to go on Ernest Shackleton's expedition to the South Pole, but was refused because he was "too effeminate"!  Instead he went with Douglas Mawson's Antarctic expedition. 

Eventually, he retired from it all and went back to Melbourne, where he bought a property on the Mornington Peninsula and ran summer camps for disadvantaged children. There, he led adventure activities and, in the evenings, told them stories of his exciting life. Did he tell them about those five years as a spy? Probably not, but he had plenty of other stuff to share.

 He married at fifty-four and lived to a ripe old age, passing away in 1971. Here's to you, Herbert and Miss Edith! 

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

K Is For...KGB: A To Z Challenge 2017


Image from Wikimedia Commons

 Soviet intelligence agency the KGB, an acronym for Komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti, Committee for State Security, was around from 1954 till the Soviet Union's collapse in the early 1990s. At that point, the KGB split up into a lot of smaller organisations. Recently, it has been suggested that Vladimir Putin, now President of Russia, is planning to reinstate it. He was a member in his youth and seems to have learned a lot from it. He was in East Germany when the Berlin Wall fell, and burned KGB files to keep protestors from getting them. (That was around the time when the Stasi, the German secret police, were shredding 16,000 sacks of their own documents. Apparently, 250 of those have been reconstructed by hand, but the rest will have to be done by computer technology or it could take 400 years!) 

The golden days of KGB versus CIA were during the Cold War era, when both agencies were spying on each other's countries, whether it was wiring a cat for sound(the CIA) or presenting the U.S. embassy with a carved replica of the U.S. Great Seal that was bugged. The CIA's cat plan didn't work, by the way, while the bugged Great Seal remained in place for several years before anyone caught on.

Have you ever seen "Spy Vs Spy" in Mad Magazine? There were two cartoon spies, one wearing a black coat and hat and one in white, constantly tricking each other. That's what I think of when I think of the Cold War spying between USA and USSR. Not to mention "Boris and Natasha", those two Soviet spies who were the villains in the Rocky And Bullwinkle Show. Boris wore the black coat and hat of a cliched spy, Natasha wore a glamorous evening gown at all times(was she meant to be a honey trap?). Cliches, of course, but the idea had to come from somewhere. 

Spying is a nasty game - and nobody plays nice. There was one incident in 1985 where Soviet diplomats were kidnapped by Hezbollah and held over a war in Syria where the USSR was on the "wrong" side. At first there were negotiations, but when a hostage was killed, the KGB kidnapped a relative of one of the Hezbollah leaders, dismembered him and sent some of the bits to his family, with a warning along the lines of, "We know who you are and where to find you.". The Soviet hostages were returned unharmed, without further discussion. Message taken.

Gadgets were used as much by the KGB as by the CIA. For example, there was the lipstick gun, mentioned in my post on gadgets, used in about 1965. It did a single shot, which you had to hope was enough. 

There was the poison dart umbrella, one of which was used to kill a dissident Bulgarian journalist, Georgy Markov, in a London street in 1978. It was only a few days from when he felt a sting in his leg to when he died of ricin poisoning. 

Smuggling microfilm was made easier for KGB agents by hollow coins and cuff links.  

What about the KGB's disappearing ink pen, with ink that made a message disappear after a short time? That was developed in the 1950s. Believe it or not, you can buy them now on-line, presumably for kids to send notes in class, or for embroiderers to use for outlines. How has the mighty gadget fallen!

Tomorrow: L is for Hedy Lamarr, glamorous star and inventor of communications technology...