How D-Day was almost derailed by an angry wife
The deception plan behind the D-Day invasion in World War II almost unravelled because of a domestic spat between a spy and his wife, according to newly declassified MI5 files.
Spanish spy Juan Pujol Garcia, or ‘‘Agent Garbo’’, is widely considered to be the greatest double agent in history. He set up a network of fake spies in Britain that misled Nazi Germany into believing the Allied invasion would take place at Calais in France, not Normandy.
Garbo’s elaborate deception disguised what MI5 described as ‘‘the most vital operation in the history of warfare’’. However, it very nearly came unstuck when his wife, Araceli, bored, lonely and tired of wartime English food, threatened to reveal everything to the Germans.
Agent Garbo (so called because of his uncanny acting skills) was an eccentric former chicken farmer and committed anti-fascist who had offered to work as a spy for the Germans, with the intention of double-crossing them and aiding the British.
He was brought to Britain by MI5 and housed in a home in Hendon with his pregnant wife and their child.
With the aid of Tomas Harris, a bilingual, half-Spanish MI5 officer, Garbo began sending false information back to the Germans. Eventually, the Garbo network expanded to include 28 entirely fictitious agents.
But Araceli was deeply unhappy living in Britain. She spoke little English and was not permitted to mix with other Spaniards. She also detested English food: ‘‘Too much macaroni, too many potatoes, not enough fish.’’
‘‘Her one desire,’’ noted Guy Liddell, the MI5 deputy director, ‘‘is to go back to her home country.’’
The 25 volumes of files covering the Garbo case reveal, for the first time, Garbo’s original motivation: his brother Joaquin had been arrested in Paris for photographing the arrival of German troops in 1940, and later shot.
The strain was too much for his wife, who finally snapped when Garbo refused to take her to a party at the Spanish embassy. Hysterical, she attempted to kill herself, and then threatened to reveal everything to the Germans.
MI5 had tapped the family’s telephone, and the files reveal a furious exchange with her MI5 handler.
‘‘I must leave England. I don’t want to stay another day here . . . I’ll take my revenge,’’ Araceli said. ‘‘This is not a threat, it is a fact. I’m going to have the satisfaction that I have spoilt everything.’’
MI5 was so worried that Prime Minister Winston Churchill was informed of her threat to ‘‘ruin the whole undertaking’’.
MI5 moved quickly to neutralise Araceli. She was told that due to her actions, her husband had been arrested and faced trial. Garbo was in on the ruse.
Distraught, Araceli signed a declaration asking for a ‘‘thousand pardons’’.
The D-Day deception was a resounding success. The Germans never suspected Garbo, and on July 29, seven weeks after the invasion, he received a radio message from his grateful German spymaster telling him: ‘‘The Fuhrer has awarded the Iron Cross to you for your extraordinary merits . . . our most sincere and cordial congratulations.’’