"You're about to be BIGOT-ed, Alfred," Boothby said, opening the briefcase.
"I beg your pardon?"
"BIGOT-ed-it's a supersecret classification developed specifically to cover the invasion. It takes its name from a stamp we placed on documents carried by British officers to Gibraltar for the invasion of North Africa. TO GIB-to Gibraltar. We just reversed the characters. TO GIB became BIGOT."
"I see," Vicary said. Four years after coming to MI5, Vicary still found many of the code names and security classifications ridiculous.
"BIGOT now refers to anyone who is privy to the most important secret of Overlord, the time and place of the invasion of France. If you know the secret, you're a BIGOT. Any documents pertaining to the invasion get a BIGOT stamp."
Boothby unlocked the briefcase, reached inside, and withdrew a beige folder. He laid it carefully on the coffee table. Vicary looked at the cover, then at Boothby. It was emblazoned with the sword and shield of SHAEF-the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force-and stamped BIGOT. Below were the words Plan Bodyguard, followed by Boothby's name and a distribution number.
"It is a very small fraternity you're about to enter-just a few hundred officers," Boothby resumed. "And there are those of us who think even that's too many. I should also tell you that your personal and professional background has been thoroughly investigated. No stone has been left unturned, as they say. I'm happy to report you're not a known member of any Fascist or Communist organization, you don't drink to excess, at least not in public, you don't put yourself about with loose women, and you aren't a homosexual or any other type of sexual deviant."
"That's good to know."
"I should also tell you that you are subject to further security checks and surveillance at any time. None of us are immune from it, not even General Eisenhower."
"I understand, Sir Basil."
"Good. First, I'd like to ask you a question or two. Your work has dealt with the invasion. Your caseload has given you a window on some of the preparations. Where do you think we're planning to strike?"
"Based on the little I know, I'd say we're going to hit them at Normandy."
"And how would you assess the chances of success for a landing at Normandy?"
"Amphibious assaults by their nature are the most complicated of all military operations," Vicary said. "Especially when they involve the English Channel. Julius Caesar and William the Conqueror managed to pull it off. Napoleon and the Spaniards failed. Hitler finally gave up on the idea in 1940. I'd say the chances of a successful invasion are no better than fifty-fifty."
Boothby snorted. "If that, Alfred, if that." He stood and paced the length of his office. "We've managed to pull off three successful amphibious operations so far: North Africa, Sicily, and Salerno. But none of those landings involved a fortified coast."
Boothby stopped pacing and looked at Vicary.
"You're right, by the way. It is Normandy. And it's scheduled for the late spring. And if we are going to have even your fifty-fifty chance of success, Hitler and his generals need to think we're going to attack somewhere else." Boothby sat down and picked up the folder. "That's why we've developed this-it's called Plan Bodyguard. Being a historian, you'll have a special appreciation for Bodyguard. It is a ruse de guerre of a scale and ambition never before attempted."
The code name meant nothing to Vicary. Boothby sailed on with his indoctrination lecture.
"Bodyguard used to be called Plan Jael, by the way. It was renamed out of respect for a rather eloquent remark the prime minister made to Stalin at Teheran. Churchill said, 'In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.' The Old Man has a certain way with words, I'll grant him that. Bodyguard is not an operation in itself. It is the code name for all the strategic cover and deception operations, to be carried out on a global scale, designed to mislead Hitler and the General Staff about our intentions on D-Day."
Boothby picked up the folder and flipped violently through it.
"The most important component of Bodyguard is Operation Fortitude. It is the goal of Fortitude to delay the Wehrmacht's reaction to the invasion for as long as possible by leading them to believe that other parts of northwestern Europe are also under the direct threat of attack-specifically Norway and the Pas de Calais.
"The Norwegian deception is code-named Fortitude North. Its goal is to force Hitler to leave twenty-seven divisions in Scandinavia by convincing him we're planning to attack Norway, before or even after D-Day."
Boothby turned to another page in the folder and drew a deep breath.
"Fortitude South is the more critical and, I daresay, more dangerous of the two deceptions. The goal of Fortitude South is to slowly convince Hitler, his generals, and his intelligence officers that we intend to stage not one invasion of France but two. The first strike, according to Fortitude South, is to be a diversionary strike across the Baie de la Seine at Normandy. The second strike, the main thrust, will take place three days later across the Strait of Dover at Calais. From Calais, our invading armies can turn directly to the east and be inside Germany within a few weeks." Boothby paused to sip his brandy and soda and allow his words to sink in. "Fortitude says that the goal of the first assault is to force Rommel and von Rundstedt to hurl their crack panzer units of the German Fifteenth Army at Normandy, thus leaving Calais undefended when the real invasion occurs. Obviously, we want the opposite to take place. We want the panzers of the Fifteenth Army to remain at Calais, waiting for the real invasion, paralyzed by indecision, while we come ashore at Normandy."
"Brilliant in its simplicity."
"Quite," Boothby said. "But with one glaring weakness. We don't have enough men to pull it off. By late spring there will be just thirty-seven divisions in Britain-American, British, and Canadian-barely enough to stage one strike against France, let alone two. If Fortitude is to have any chance of succeeding, we must convince Hitler and his generals that we have the divisions necessary to stage two invasions."
"How in heaven's name are we going to do that?"
"Why, we're simply going to create an army of a million men. Conjure it up, I'm afraid, completely out of thin air."
Vicary sipped his drink, staring at Boothby, disbelief on his face. "You can't be serious."
"Yes, we can, Alfred-we're deadly serious. In order for the invasion to have that one-in-two chance of succeeding, we have to convince Hitler, Rommel, and von Rundstedt that we have a massive and powerful force coiled behind the cliffs of Dover, waiting to lash out across the Channel at Calais. We won't, of course. But by the time we're finished, the Germans are going to believe they're confronted with a living, breathing force of some thirty divisions. If they don't believe this force exists-if we fail and they see through our deception-there is a very good chance the return to Europe, as Churchill calls it, will end in a bloody and cataclysmic failure."
"Does this phantom army have a name?" Vicary asked.
"Indeed-the First United States Army Group. FUSAG for short. It even has a commander, Patton himself. The Germans believe General Patton is our finest battlefield commander and think we would be fools to launch any invasion without his playing a major role. At his disposal Patton will have some one million men, made up primarily of nine divisions from the U.S. Third Army and two divisions of the Canadian First Army. FUSAG even has its own London headquarters in Bryanston Square."
Vicary blinked rapidly, trying to digest the extraordinary information he was being given. Imagine creating an army of a million men, completely out of thin air. Boothby was right-it was a ruse de guerre of unimaginable proportions. It made the Trojan horse of Odysseus look like a college escapade.
"Hitler's no fool, and neither are his generals," he said. "They're well schooled in the lessons of Clausewitz, and Clausewitz offered valuable advice about wartime intelligence: 'A great part of the information obtained in war is contradictory, a still greater part is false, and by far the greatest part is doubtful.' The Germans aren't going to believe there's an army of a million men camped in the Kent countryside just because we tell them it's so."