After the "Emperor's Emissary" mission failed, I lost interest in intelligence work. After 1943, the war situation gradually became clearer. The German-Italian forces in North Africa had completely collapsed and surrendered to the Allies. Rommel had been recalled to Europe beforehand and barely escaped with his life. Then, the Allied landings in Sicily in July led to Mussolini's resignation and imprisonment. In September, the Italian government signed an armistice and surrender agreement with the Allies. On September 13th, Mussolini was rescued by Hitler's commandos and established a puppet regime in northern Italy. The German army then deployed troops into Italy to engage the Allies, significantly weakening German forces on the Soviet front and allowing the Red Army to launch a large-scale counter-offensive.
Against this backdrop, the Allied powers began making arrangements for the postwar situation, which led to the initiative for a meeting between the leaders of the United States, Great Britain, and China. The meeting was scheduled to be held in Cairo in mid-November, codenamed "Sextant." As the host country, Great Britain had many things to coordinate regarding the arrangements for the Chinese delegation to Cairo. The ambassador took a liking to me, so I went to make contact with the Chinese government.
On the surface, the Chinese government's participation in the Cairo Conference was handled by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but in reality, it was entirely controlled by Chiang Kai-shek's wife, Soong Mei-ling. Everyone in Chinese officialdom knew she was the "underground foreign minister," and newly arrived Western diplomats often didn't understand the situation, making things difficult to proceed smoothly. I had plenty of experience with this, and coupled with my personal relationship with Soong Mei-ling, I quickly got things on the right track. First, I received confirmation that Chairman Chiang and his wife would personally attend the conference.
(Figure 5-6-1) Chiang Kai-shek and his entourage boarded a U.S. Army C-54 transport plane. They departed from Chungking to attend the Cairo Conference. The Allied powers held numerous summits during World War II, with the Cairo Conference being the only one China participated in. Even then, Churchill only reluctantly agreed to allow Chiang Kai-shek's participation after Roosevelt's insistence. Churchill consistently looked down on China's contributions in World War II and strongly disagreed with Roosevelt's inclusion of China among the "Big Four." This conference was originally supposed to be a meeting of the four leaders: the United States, Britain, the Soviet Union, and China. However, because Stalin was unwilling to discuss the post-war status between China and the Soviet Union with Chiang Kai-shek, it had to be split into two parts. First, the United States, Britain, and China met in Cairo on November 23. Then, Roosevelt and Churchill flew to Iran to meet with Stalin in Tehran on November 28. Because the conference was divided into two parts, the promises made to Chiang Kai-shek in Cairo might be overturned in Tehran due to Stalin's opposition. For example, the priority of the Soviet Union in Northeast China was precisely Stalin's wishful thinking. Chiang Kai-shek was well aware of this, but as the leader of a weak country, he was already quite satisfied that this war had made China one of the world's "Big Four," so he didn't bother to argue.
On November 23, the leaders of the three parties arrived. In addition to discussing the Burma campaign, the main topic of the meeting was the return of the Japanese-occupied territories. Chiang Kai-shek expressed his desire to take back Taiwan after the war. Churchill strongly opposed this, saying that the meeting could only discuss the return of the occupied territories during World War II and could not be extended indefinitely to settle old scores, otherwise it would never end. Churchill's words made sense, but I knew what he was really afraid of was that if this precedent were set, the Chinese government would demand the return of Hong Kong in the same way, which was absolutely unacceptable to Britain! In the end, Roosevelt intervened to smooth things over, and Chiang Kai-shek promised that Hong Kong would continue to be under British rule after the war, which finally made Churchill give in.
But problems arose when discussing the details. When the Chinese delegation wanted to explain that the definition of Taiwan included Penghu, not a single person in the entire delegation, including Soong Mei-ling, knew what "Penghu" was called in the West! Chiang Kai-shek's face began to turn grim, and everyone looked at each other, at a loss. Originally, I was just a lowly aide sitting silently at the conference table, but seeing the stalemate, I had no choice but to muster the courage to stand up and say to Chiang Kai-shek, "Please don't blame them. This is a name that navigators are more familiar with. In Chinese, Penghu is called Pescadores in the West, which comes from Portuguese. Please see the markings on the nautical chart."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; Penghu was finally included in the area to be recovered by the Chinese government after the war, otherwise it might have become unclaimed territory and eventually be placed under UN trusteeship. However, for some reason, Chiang Kai-shek took the initiative to suggest joint Sino-US administration of the Ryukyu Islands, but this was not realized after the war. The meeting also determined the plan to return the Manchuria to China, but due to the Soviet invasion and the occupation by the Communist army, the Kuomintang government never effectively governed them before retreating to Taiwan.
As for the various factions in North Korea agreeing to establish an independent state after the war, they did not specify the concrete methods. As soon as the war ended, Syngman Rhee, supported by the United States, and Kim Il-sung, supported by the Soviet Union, vied to establish their own states, leading to the outbreak of the Korean War.
(Figure 5-6-3) Group photo released by the official Cairo Conference.
But problems arose when discussing the details. When the Chinese delegation wanted to explain that the definition of Taiwan included Penghu, not a single person in the entire delegation, including Soong Mei-ling, knew what "Penghu" was called in the West! Chiang Kai-shek's face began to turn grim, and everyone looked at each other, at a loss. Originally, I was just a lowly aide sitting silently at the conference table, but seeing the stalemate, I had no choice but to muster the courage to stand up and say to Chiang Kai-shek, "Please don't blame them. This is a name that navigators are more familiar with. In Chinese, Penghu is called Pescadores in the West, which comes from Portuguese. Please see the markings on the nautical chart."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; Penghu was finally included in the area to be recovered by the Chinese government after the war, otherwise it might have become unclaimed territory and eventually be placed under UN trusteeship. However, for some reason, Chiang Kai-shek took the initiative to suggest joint Sino-US administration of the Ryukyu Islands, but this was not realized after the war. The meeting also determined the plan to return the three northeastern provinces to China, but due to the Soviet invasion and the occupation by the Communist army, the Kuomintang government never effectively governed them before retreating to Taiwan.
As for the various factions in North Korea agreeing to establish an independent state after the war, they did not specify the concrete methods. As soon as the war ended, Syngman Rhee, supported by the United States, and Kim Il-sung, supported by the Soviet Union, vied to establish their own states, leading to the outbreak of the Korean War.
(Figure 5-6-3) Group photo released by the official Cairo Conference.
Observing the interactions between the leaders at the Cairo Conference was quite interesting. Churchill disliked Chiang Kai-shek and refused to associate with him, and Chiang's English was poor, making communication difficult. This is where Soong Mei-ling played a crucial role. Although the Chinese delegation had official interpreters, Soong often took it upon herself to translate for Chiang on important occasions, leaving Churchill, who didn't understand Chinese, unsure whether the translation was Chiang's or Soong's. This is where my importance became apparent. Although I struggled to understand Chiang Kai-shek's Ningbo accent, Churchill always insisted on taking me to his room to personally verify that it was indeed Chiang's intention before he felt reassured. We all stayed at the Mena House Hotel. Churchill and Chiang Kai-shek's suite in Villa No. 1 was across from each other, while I stayed in a more secluded single room. When Churchill summoned me to his room to discuss matters, I might encounter Chiang Kai-shek and Soong Mei-ling at the door.
Like her two older sisters, Soong Mei-ling attended Wellesley College in Georgia, USA, from a young age. She spoke fluent English with a Southern accent and was completely Westernized. Coupled with her family background as a Christian pastor, she was quite favored by Roosevelt, who even treated her like a goddaughter. However, Churchill, a politician, was not swayed by this. But Soong Mei-ling was no pushover either. Although she didn't like the British, she knew how to use her feminine strengths. When Roosevelt invited her to lunch at the White House during his visit to the United States, Soong Mei-ling deliberately refused, leaving Churchill feeling turned away. This time, they met again in Cairo. Soong often teased Churchill with her words, some of which I would blush overhearing. So when they met, I always wisely kept my distance to avoid embarrassment.
Observing the official photos released from the Cairo Conference, Roosevelt sat between Churchill and Chiang Kai-shek. This was partly because he was the chairman of the war effort, and partly to imply that Churchill was unwilling to sit side by side with Chiang. Chiang appeared to be chatting with Roosevelt, but in reality, he couldn't speak any English; it was just a pose deliberately staged for the photo to create the illusion that he had become a world leader. Soong Mei-ling, on the other hand, was whispering and laughing with Churchill, seemingly putting her husband aside to flirt with another man. I was watching from the sidelines at the time, knowing full well that they each had their own ulterior motives, but they still had to put on a harmonious and united facade in a public propaganda setting—it was truly amusing.
When this photo was taken, I was originally standing next to Churchill, but I had to step aside at the last minute. My habit is to avoid any occasions where I am photographed, so as not to appear in the media and affect my safety when entering and leaving Shanghai. However, it was not until after the war, when I was reviewing Japanese intelligence files, that I discovered that the Japanese had known my whereabouts all along. But because of Yamamoto Isoroku's arrangements, other units thought I was a secret envoy between the British and Japanese high command, so no one dared to touch me, and I was able to travel safely until the end of the war.
Let's return to Churchill. He and my father were old acquaintances; we even visited him during his most difficult times, so their relationship was quite close. In Cairo, I seized the opportunity to ask him about Yamamoto Isoroku's suggestion of peace talks last year, but he feigned ignorance and said, "Peace talks? What are you talking about?"
Both Churchill and my father were typical British politicians, with first-rate diplomatic skills and a broader, more insightful perspective than others. However, Churchill possessed an additional layer of domineering charisma, which is why he was able to become Prime Minister while my father could not. I learned a great deal from them, but I was born at the wrong time, in a British Empire that was already in its twilight years, with little room left to make my mark.
I was revisiting Cairo. Around the same time of year in late 1929, Annie and I had visited the city on our way back to England aboard the "China Pearl". I remembered the Hungarian Count László Almásy, who was doing archaeological work in the desert. This time, I heard his name again when I was chatting with my colleagues from the local naval intelligence group in Cairo. "László Almásy is definitely a German spy!" his naval intelligence colleagues exclaimed in unison.
It turns out that he once led the German army across 2,000 miles of desert to attack the rear of Cairo based on a map he had drawn in cooperation with a British archaeological team. He was even awarded the rank of major and the Iron Cross by Field Marshal Rommel. The fact that the movie "English Patient" combined this event with a romantic love story is simply the screenwriter's imagination.
"You know he's gay!" one of them whispered.
"How do you know?" I asked in return.
"Because we captured one of his accomplices, who was also his lover, and that coward confessed to everything!" He squinted at me. "Oh? You know him?"
I wasn't surprised to hear this, because I had suspected it the first time I met him. I've always been sensitive to these kinds of things; there are too many examples, including Lawrence of Arabia, the Imperial Tutor Reginald Johnston, and even Puyi. But the matter of Count Amásay wasn't just gossip among colleagues in the intelligence group; it was officially recorded in an MI6 report.
In Cairo, I also met an old acquaintance, Admiral Mountbatten, the current commander of the British Southeast Asia Command and a cousin of the British Emperor. Years ago, when Annie and I flew from Cairo to Malta, Mountbatten was a Lieutenant Commander, assistant communications officer to the local fleet commander; now he is the highest-ranking British commander in the Far East, and he was the central figure in the discussions about the Burma campaign at the Cairo Conference. Despite his high status as a member of the royal family, Churchill seemed to have little respect for him, offering no support whatsoever for his proposed Burma operation plan, which greatly discouraged Mountbatten.
This is understandable. In Churchill's mind, Burma was merely India's front door and not worth the effort to conquer. If the war required American help, it would be tantamount to introducing American influence into South Asia, which would be even more unprofitable. Rather than that, it would be better to let the Japanese occupy it for the time being. Mountbatten, not understanding the situation, joined Chiang Kai-shek in clamoring for an attack on Burma. Churchill was furious and simply withdrew all of Mountbatten's troops back to Europe, leaving Mountbatten as a commander without troops.
After the war, Mountbatten was appointed Viceroy of India, overseeing the process of Indian independence and the partition of India and Pakistan, a task that left him overwhelmed. After returning home, he rose to the highest rank in the Navy, becoming Chief of the General Staff and First Sea Lord, and was later promoted to Admiral of the Fleet. In 1979, at nearly eighty years old, he was tragically killed by a time bomb planted by IRA agents on his yacht.
One of the attachés in the Chinese delegation was Major General Wang Geng, who was reportedly appointed by the United States to accompany the delegation. Wang Geng was China's first graduate of West Point, which should have been a very prestigious qualification. However, his career development in the Chinese military has been very unsuccessful. In fact, his fame within the military is far less than his other identity: Lu Xiaoman's ex-husband!
"General Wang Geng, ah, I know him, isn't he Lu Xiaoman's ex-husband?" That's what everyone said when they heard Wang Geng introduced.
I do know Lu Xiaoman, because Hsu Tsimo was my friend. Everyone remembers that he died in a plane crash because of the free plane ticket I gave him. That was more than ten years ago. Seeing Wang Geng now has brought back my memories.
Wang Geng was very low-key, probably because too many setbacks had made him accustomed to silence. Unfortunately, more misfortune was yet to come. He fell ill before setting off, and his condition worsened after arriving in Cairo, where he died far from home. It was I who requested assistance from the British military headquarters in Cairo to bury him in the local Heliopolis military cemetery. When I left Egypt, the tombstone was not yet completed. I returned to Cairo after the war and laid flowers at his grave. I think that probably no one else would come to see him except me.
(Figures 5-6-7) After the Cairo Conference, Roosevelt and Churchill continued their journey to Tehran to meet with Stalin.
The Cairo Conference concluded on November 26. Chiang Kai-shek and his wife returned to China, while I, at Churchill's request, flew with him to Tehran to continue the meeting with Stalin.
The Tehran Conference, held from November 28th to December 1st at the Soviet Embassy, determined several key points: the establishment of the United Nations to replace the League of Nations after the war; the opening of a second front in Europe, which later led to the Normandy landings; and the Soviet Union's agreement to participate in the war against Japan after the war against Germany. Britain and the United States strongly desired Soviet participation in the Far Eastern theater to alleviate the burden of heavy casualties, while Stalin used the opportunity to demand reparations.
Compared to the Cairo Conference, the Tehran Conference was the one that truly determined the course of World War II and the postwar order. The subsequent Yalta and Potsdam Conferences were based on the resolutions of this conference. In Tehran conference, I again witnessed the contradictions among the Allied powers. Unlike the Cairo Conference, where Churchill's target was Chiang Kai-shek, at the Tehran Conference, the target became Stalin. Roosevelt's position was subtle; although it was his first meeting with Stalin, he greatly admired him, even deliberately contradicting Churchill to curry favor, which greatly displeased Churchill. Churchill had long seen that the Soviet Union would be a rival rather than an ally, but Roosevelt believed that Britain was a declining capitalist power, and he and his officials were more inclined towards socialism.
After the Tehran Conference, I flew to Istanbul. This was requested by a telegram from headquarters in London before I departed from Chungking for the Cairo Conference, which stated that I would receive the mission using a special code upon arrival at the embassy. Sir Hughe Knatchbull-Hugessen, the British Ambassador to Turkey at the time, had previously served as Ambassador to China—the same man whose car was seriously injured in a Japanese air raid in Nanking in 1937. I had handled the negotiations with Japan then, and Sir Hughesen was very grateful for my assistance. He was delighted to see me this time and specially invited me to his residence for dinner. After dinner, Sir Hughesen had his personal valet, Elyesa Bazna, perform several excerpts from German operas, accompanied by Mrs. Hughesen on the piano. I knew Sir Hughesen was fond of classical music; I was surprised even his valet could sing opera.
The servant was unremarkable in appearance and spoke little English, usually communicating in French. Hugessen said he was an Albanian-Turk, and seemed to trust him greatly. The next day, I went to the MI6 office to pick up a coded telegram from headquarters. After translating it using my own telegraph, I discovered it was from Major General Sir Stewart Graham Menzies, instructing me to be aware of a possible leak within the Istanbul embassy and requesting my assistance in the investigation.
I understood the director's intention. He didn't trust the people in the embassy, and sending someone from outside to investigate would be less burdensome. Moreover, Menzies, like me, had a background in cryptography and trusted me more. Later, I learned that on November 3rd, MI5, MI6, and the Organization for Ciphers (ISOS) in London held a joint meeting on this matter. Director Menzies then sent a telegram asking me to make a detour to Istanbul after the Tehran meeting.
The next day, I went to the embassy to see Hughessen, wanting to discuss the embassy leak with him—something that couldn't be discussed at the dinner the previous night. There was a table near the ambassador's office, which Hughessen had specially arranged for Bazna, functioning somewhat like a reception desk. As I passed by, I noticed a rather inconspicuous metal ring on the table. Wait, isn't that a close-up ring used for close-up shots or document copying on a Leica I(C) camera? I recognized it because I happened to own one. At that time, very few people bought these kinds of cameras, and a single close-up ring wouldn't reveal its purpose. I immediately became suspicious; why would a servant buy such a thing? Just then, Bazna walked over and casually put the metal ring into his pocket.
Upon entering the ambassador's office, I cut to the chase and said to Hughessen, "Your Excellency, I am here on orders from headquarters to assist in the investigation of the embassy's leak of secrets."
Hughessen said, "Oh, so the investigator the superiors were talking about was you. Yes, I received a secret telegram from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs last month, and they even sent experts to install alarms in the safe deposit boxes. I think this problem should have been solved."
I said, "An alarm? May I take a look?"
Hughessen said, "It's installed in my house. If you'd like to see it, I can ask Bazner to take you there. He's in charge of controlling the alarm switch."
I had originally intended to tell him about my suspicions regarding Bazner, but upon hearing this, I understood most of it and quickly said, "Thank you, no need. In that case, there's no problem, and I can report back."
How could there be no problem? The leaked documents are of such high priority that only the ambassador himself could access them. If they were kept in the embassy's safe deposit box, the possibility of them being stolen at night would be low. However, if the confidential documents were taken home, given that Bazner is Hughessen's personal valet, the possibility would increase significantly. Secondly, the higher-ups had already discovered the loophole and sent people to install alarms. How could Hughessen entrust such an important matter to Bazner? It's hard not to suspect something.
Having identified the target, I secretly launched an investigation and discovered that Bazna's background was extremely complex. He had multiple bloodlines and numerous aliases, possessed locksmithing skills, and had several mistresses. On the surface, his appointment appeared to have undergone a background check, but a review of the documents revealed only a guarantee from Hughessen, without any genuine investigation, further fueling suspicion. Bazna knew early on that headquarters would send intelligence officers to investigate. Coincidentally, I had just flown to Istanbul, and seeing my grave expression and frequent visits to the ambassador's office, he sensed something was wrong. The next day, he resigned from the embassy and soon after left.
According to postwar investigations, Hughessen did indeed have a habit of bringing classified documents home. On one occasion, the key to the safe fell out of his pocket and was discovered by Bazner, who made a copy of it. From then on, he would open the safe, photograph the documents, and sell them at the German embassy while Hughessen was sleeping or taking a bath.
Bazner was extremely greedy, demanding £20,000. The German embassy, unable to approve such a large sum, sent the photographs to Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop in Berlin for review. After Ribbentrop showed them to Hitler, he agreed and allocated £20,000 in cash, which was then flown to Istanbul by special plane. From then on, Bazner became a German spy codenamed "Cicero," receiving over £1.5 million in total during his five months of work. This made the "Cicero Affair" the biggest espionage case in history.
The intelligence provided by Bazner was extremely valuable, including the complete contents of the Cairo and Tehran Conferences. Therefore, Germany already knew that the Allies were going to open a second front. However, paradoxically, because the intelligence was so detailed and of such high quality, the German high command suspected it was counterintelligence and dared not fully trust it, which meant the Normandy landings were not significantly affected. However, the intelligence regarding persuading Turkey to join the Central Powers and open its airfields to Allied use attracted great attention from the Germans. It should be noted that Germany had invested heavily in Turkey since World War I, and the relationship between the two countries was deep and not easily swayed. Through the German ambassador's threats and inducements, Turkey delayed joining the Allies until August 1944, allowing the German army to focus entirely on the Normandy landings without being tied down in Eastern Europe and the Eastern Mediterranean.
Because I couldn't stay in Istanbul for long, I left after submitting my report on Bazner. My superiors sent a female undercover agent to investigate, who found my assessments to be largely correct. Unfortunately, a broader investigation wasn't conducted. Although I testified against Bazner, it doesn't mean others were innocent. Furthermore, the quality of Bazner's photographs, which we examined after the war, was extremely high; they remained clearly visible even when enlarged—something only Leica could produce. How did Bazner obtain it? Did the German embassy give it to him? These questions remain unanswered.
After leaving, Bazner lived in seclusion in Latin America. When he tried to spend the huge sum of money, he was arrested for using counterfeit currency. It turned out that most of the pounds Ribbentrop paid Bazner were carefully printed counterfeit bills by German intelligence, giving the incident a dark humor. As for Ambassador Hughessen, who was severely criticized for the "Cicero spy scandal," which became the biggest stain on his diplomatic career, my testimony became crucial. However, I did not raise any doubts about Hughessen's own loyalty, otherwise his fate might have been even worse.
In mid-January 1944, I flew from Istanbul to Malta, then transferred to a Royal Navy warship to return to Britain—a rare opportunity during wartime. At the Cairo Conference, I was also entrusted by Zhou Zhirou, the commander of the Chinese Air Force, to continue seeking instructors in Britain for their newly established Air Staff School. In the spring of 1943, I had already used various connections to hire several Royal Air Force officers, including Air Vice Marshal La. Pettingson, to teach in China. After returning to China from Europe, I also participated in the teaching work. Many of the officers trained at the Staff School later became high-ranking generals in the Kuomintang Air Force. Because they were my students, I gained considerable connections within the postwar Chinese Air Force, which made things much easier for me.
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