Hitler's Lost Spy (9 page)

Public Radio Broadcasting – Espionage's Holy Grail

A capable spy needs to do more than pass security tests and cover their tracks.
Secret
communications are vital. So how would Annette Wagner communicate with those to whom she would need to pass information?

There are the ‘drop off in the park' and ‘dead letter' 
operations. The contact is met in a park, and a brief meeting ends with the information passing hands in a newspaper. The ‘dead letter' method is the depositing of a document in an agreed location that is subsequently collected by the other party. These are simple procedures and, if undertaken securely, the information is normally guaranteed to pass into the right hands. But the risks are obvious, and avoiding any physical contact between operatives in a spy ring is always preferred.

Conveying information by a radio transmitter was common in World War II, but this did not suit everyone. 
A transmitter was bulky, heavy, required transportation and could be exposed by tracking techniques. The operator was often required to assemble a transmitter, so a technical knowledge of the components would be necessary. This was not an option for Annette.

In the 1930s microdot technology had been advanced by the Germans to a level at which, using an appropriate camera, an A4 page of typing or diagrams could be reduced to the size of the dot on the letter ‘i'. On receipt of the microdots, the data could be read with a suitable microscope. To transfer information by this method, the operator was compelled to travel with a large, heavy suitcase holding the necessary equipment. This was usually impractical, too inconvenient and very risky.

Microdot expertise may not have been drawn on, but the camera certainly was. During the Newcastle flight (see Chapter 8) Annette had demonstrated her overlapping camera ability and the film would have found its way, indirectly, to her contact.

Invisible ink was an old method of conveying secret information, and several varieties were available. By the commencement of World War II, tests to detect invisible ink were well advanced and postal authorities could use these on intercepted mail. This would have been a gamble for Annette, and possibly too slow.

What means did Annette use to convey whatever information she needed to pass on? She may have planned to carry out physical deliveries or arranged collections by others. We do not know, except that such exchanges may have been intended for clandestine meetings. But amazingly, she had managed to find employment in the public radio industry which at that time would have been a foreign spy's ultimate centre of operations for the successful transmission of coded information.

A radio announcer reading from a script prepared by others (e.g. a newsreader) has little, if any, opportunity to use the airwaves for anything but delivering the script. 
But ‘discretional' broadcasting – that which allows the presenter to perform with a capacity to cunningly deviate from the script – is
very
different. Passing coded information through the airwaves is far easier and safer than a physical delivery, or via a telephone line at risk of being tapped. Annette had achieved the almost unthinkable – security in her employment, selective friendships, and the ideal avenue for the dissemination of coded messages. Her contacts would need to do no more than sit at home and turn on the radio.

It is difficult not to be engrossed by the intrigues, conduct and mystique of Annette, both as woman and spy. Her demeanour, personal associations and achievements in broadcasting all present an image of a lady whose interests were poles apart from the shadowy world of espionage. Her conduct, from a security perspective, was almost faultless – well beyond the normal zones of suspicion.

Nonetheless, a near flawless security assessment is not an indemnity against errors of judgement. In October 1938, seven months after her arrival in Australia, and a few months before the commencement of her fashion program on radio 2GB, Annette made a critical mistake. 
One oversight, one stumble out of her carefully designed camouflage, but one so vital it would relentlessly shadow her to the gangplank of the ship on which she departed Australia in February 1940.

FOOTNOTES

7
 ‘Navy' referred to Naval Intelligence. The Director of Naval Intelligence, Commander Rupert Long established a comprehensive system of informants during the late 1930's, from which sources information on Annette Wagner crossed paths with that derived by Military Intelligence.

Annette Wagner entered Australia with a first-rate presentation and unsuspecting testimonials. But her initial success in avoiding suspicion did not eliminate an inherent problem in her future spying role – that of preserving the smokescreen around her activities as they broadened across an unfamiliar social landscape. As in any other form of business, an unbridled success in espionage activities may create its own problems. A spy needs to be committed to preserving the status quo. The possible downside is that the more convincing the performance, and the more successful the daily processes of deception, the greater the likelihood is that these new successes will cross boundaries and possibly attract unwelcome attention from new entrants into a spy's additional region of influence.

In effect, the more ‘permanent integration' success a foreign spy enjoys, the greater the vigilance required to ensure that these perceptions are protected. Strange behaviour from otherwise ‘normal' people swiftly produces rumour and speculation.

Annette had achieved an effective level of social integration in Australia and was seemingly at ease within the midst of her new associates and friends – although limited in number. But she was constantly living with the possibility that an action or expressed opinion, incompatible with her cultivated persona, ran the risk of spawning the seeds of distrust. This in turn could trigger an unwanted interest by way of official prying.

While Annette was clearly vigilant in her daily conduct, over time suspicions steadily increased as to her identity and intentions, and these were recorded in her Military Intelligence file. The broader analysis of her conduct and social protocols while in Australia produced, at varying levels of conviction, doubts as to her
bona fides
. Her file records ‘third party' comments ranging from completely unsubstantiated claims or loosely observed acts, incorrectly labelled as ‘suspicious', to unexplained behaviour that provided serious grounds for doubting her intentions while in Australia. She would in time demonstrate that a security surveillance of her activities was both warranted and in fact necessary.

Annette's social and business life mirrored that of a spy extremely cautious in meeting and nurturing previously unfamiliar contacts on the presumption that new associates may not be all that they appear to be. 
Every new friend or colleague represents a new risk, and Annette, intentionally or otherwise, always appeared to hold her cards close to her chest.

Like all of us, Annette could be described as a jigsaw. 
Normally, the pieces of a human puzzle may be mixed up, examined, and when restored in their correct place the individual is brought back. Now and then a piece may be temporarily mislaid, but it will later turn up – unlike Annette's jigsaw which, while she lived in Australia, was unusually complicated and tricky. Some of the pieces didn't slot back the way they were expected to, resulting in misgivings and speculation within the security services. A few of these issues are discussed below.

Annette's Age

According to her passport issued through the Swiss Embassy in London, Annette's date of birth was 3 June 1912. She would therefore have had her 27th birthday a few months prior to the outbreak of World War II.

Her file notes shed official doubt on this. In one report she was ‘thought to be definitely over thirty'. If this were the case, it would mean that her passport was either typographically incorrect, or the passport did not belong to her. The references to her age were not treated as significant, and no action appears to have been taken to confirm the passport details.

The available evidence suggests that 1912 was in fact her year of birth. The stealing of identities for the purpose of planting spies was not unheard of prior to, and during, World War II. However, the detailed research conducted on Annette's history has not raised any reason to doubt her claimed date of birth. The possible exception to this – and it cannot be totally discounted – is that the real Annette Schneider, born in Bienne, Switzerland in 1912, was not the same lady who arrived in Australia in 1938. Evidence favouring this position has not come to light.

Accepting that Annette was the lady she claimed to be, her appearance and disposition provided her with a degree of maturity beyond her years. The only known photograph of Annette, accompanying the
Australian
Women's Weekly
article published in January 1939, suggests a facial appearance a little older than her then 26 years.

Annette's French Language Proficiency

The subject of Annette's age may not have reached the level of serious official consideration, but her grasp of the French language was something else. In her October 1939 interview (see Chapter 9), she answered ‘French' to the question as to what was her ‘mother tongue'. This question was undoubtedly asked due to her apparent difficulty with French pronunciation. Yes, she had spent several years at school in England, but a mother tongue is usually not diminished radically by absences from the region in which the language is learnt and refined. She married a Frenchman, lived in French-speaking Madagascar and had family connections in Switzerland and Alsace, so any ‘loss' of language fluency while in England should have been quickly rectified prior to her arrival in Australia.

Jack Clancy, who spoke French fluently, suggested to me, with a half smile, that there was ‘something not quite right' with Annette's competence in the language, and this disparity had not gone unnoticed by others.

It is difficult to exit the matter of Annette's language puzzle without a measure of suspicion. Evidence appeared in her file that she spoke German with ease – 
and this was correct. Her family link to the language was her father, and as a child in a bilingual town it is likely she would have attained a reasonable degree of German fluency prior to leaving for England when her mother passed away in 1919. Further, Annette may have studied German at high school or at the college she attended in Geneva, or undertaken private study. To suggest that Annette had a negligible German language proficiency when she arrived in Australia makes little sense.

One important feature of Annette's German fluency is that she attempted to hide it. It was only through her associations that it became known. A good spy will remove all possible attachments with the ‘home' agency, and Annette followed this policy, as far as is known, to the utmost.

It is possible, even likely, that the reason Annette sought membership in the Sydney branch of Alliance Francaise was her intention to improve her ‘mother tongue'.

Other possibilities exist in the mystery of Annette's French. There may have been a dialectal difficulty. 
Perhaps Annette's Swiss-French was less French than one would expect. But the most interesting possibility is that Annette was using a false identity. Again, we can only pursue this on the evidence available, and this suggests she was in fact the lady described in her Swiss passport.

One Lady or Two?

While in Australia Annette was a lady with a dual character. There was the communal Annette, with her friends and working associates – positive, charming (when required) and friendly (when necessary). But there was a second character, one that would become more readily understood by authorities with each diversion from the first. A report in her Military Intelligence file includes:

Annette is quite a person in authority. She has been heard telephoning and speaking to people, particularly German men. She does not make requests, she orders.

She does not make requests, she orders
. This statement was not an assessment – it would have been a recorded surveillance fact. There is more than a personality contradiction here. There are, effectively, two different people – one public and the other very private, the latter being consistent, not only with the façade of a spy, but also a spy with authority. This interesting appraisal invites a review of how Annette entered the realm of espionage. The argument that she may have been sounded out
after
she arrived in Australia now carries a little less weight. Trust needs time, and being recruited following her arrival would normally imply – barring exceptional circumstances – that Annette would have been near the lower end of the authority stream. She would have operated as a lower-level functionary of the intelligence agency, with her own unique code name, but she would not have been positioned to delegate or order.

The Nazi party and personnel structure in Australia in 1938 and 1939 was relatively small, but it was tightly bound in its administration and ideology. Ladendorff was an aggressive ‘loud-mouth', who ran the party with complete devotion to Berlin's orders. During his tenure as party leader a young woman arrives in Australia and within a short period becomes ‘quite a person in authority'. This would necessarily have elevated the importance of Annette in the Nazi spy network.

However, this component of Annette's spying responsibilities does not answer the question of how or when she was secured by the Germans. It does, however, place her on a scale of importance within the German spying apparatus in Australia beyond that of a base-level operative limited to taking orders and passing on information.

A Coded Perfume?

Having commenced her employment as a radio presenter, Annette was well placed to broadcast, with caution, a little more than her self-composed scripts. 
One suspicious comment delivered by her was investigated in detail. An extract from her file in early June 1939, states: