As the German convoy roared by, a young soldier spotted the
unkempt peasant woman trying desperately to keep her goats together
at the side of the road and blew her a kiss.
As the German convoy roared by, a young soldier spotted the unkempt peasant woman trying desperately to keep her goats together at the side of the road and blew her a kiss.
“Hey, darling; save me a dance tonight!” She muttered sourly at the resultant laughter and waited until the last truck had passed so she could continue.
Within hours London had the latest intelligence report of German activity from the woman whom the Gestapo called “the most dangerous Allied operative in Europe.”
Although she had several cover names during the course of the war, her real one was Virginia Hall and she had come a long way from her native Baltimore and overcame several prejudices along the way.
Born to a theater owner and his wife in 1906, she had enjoyed an easy childhood and youth. Hill had an ear for language and by the time she had finished studying at Radcliffe and Bernard, she was fluent in French, Italian and German.
In 1931 she entered the State Department as a clerk despite protests from many men in the department. However, she ignored them and was given assignments in Estonia, Austria and Turkey. At the last post, she suffered an accident that seemed to have put an end to her budding career.
While hunting, she dropped her gun and tried to catch it. It discharged its load into her right foot. By the time medical help arrived, gangrene had set in and the leg had to be amputated.
She received notice that the department could no longer employ her because of the amputation. Frustrated, Hall quit before her appeal could be decided. That was in May 1939, and she was living in Paris when World War II broke out.
The young woman enrolled in the French Ambulance service but was soon employed by a military attache to transmit valuable information to England. When France fell the following year, Hall, a Belgian captain, two Frenchmen and a Spanish guide walked across the Pyrenees in the dead of winter. They were interned for awhile in a Spanish border town, then she spent several dull months in Madrid before going to England.
The timing was perfect. Winston Churchill had authorized a special unit “to set Europe afire” and Hall was recruited for it. She studied security and communications, and was posted to France.
The Gestapo grew aware of her existence and thousands of posters went out to be on the lookout for a woman with a limp. Despite the unceasing pressure, she assisted many downed Allied airmen to return to safety and sent vital communications almost daily.
Further training in weaponry and organization gave Hall the ability to organize and equip battalions of French guerrillas as the war hastened to an end.
Shortly after victory in Europe, she was recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross. William Donovan, head of the Office of Strategic Services, passed it on to President Harry Truman, who approved it. But Hall pointed out that a public presentation could damage future intelligence operations. Truman agreed and Donovan pinned it on her in a private ceremony in his office.
After the war, she worked for the CIA, successor to the OSS. Her specialty was in making assessments of French paramilitary forces. Hall remained there until the mandatory retirement age of 60. Until her death in Maryland in 1982, she poured most of her interest into poodles and raising flowers.
She is buried in a cemetery not far from where she was born. The tombstone reveals little about her beyond her name and the dates of her birth and death. It makes no mention of the fact that Virginia Hall is the only woman to have won the Distinguished Service Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor in the nation’s tribute to valor.
Herman Wrede is a Free Lance correspondent. His column appears every Friday.
