“I remember visiting a hand-grenade factory; and a hospital where a man was having his leg cut off by a German-Jewish doctor; and a printing press where nothing in particular was happening. I have a vivid recollection of making several speeches in Serbo-Croat, one from a balcony...Finally I have hazy memories of the dance at a village called Blato which rounded off our day's entertainment and which was dramatically interrupted by the explosion of a small red Italian hand-grenade which became detached from one of the girls' belts as she whirled round the barn in which it was being held.”
Rumored to be the original inspiration for playboy spy James Bond, Fitzroy Maclean, in eight very active years from 1937-1945, is transferred to Britain's foreign office in Moscow, masters the Russian language, becomes the first (non-Russian) European to visit various villages and towns in Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Kirghizia, among others (all the while being trailed by the Secret Police), witnesses the infamous purge trials of 1938, enlists in the armed forces following the outbreak of World War II, is elected to Parliament, helps lead sabotage missions behind enemy lines in North Africa, kidnaps an Iranian general sympathetic to Hitler, is parachuted into Yugoslavia to help Tito and the Partisans in their guerilla war against the Nazis, fraternizes with Winston Churchill, and following Nazi defeat in Belgrade, helps smooth the transition of government to avoid a civil war between communists and royalists, all the while, maintaining a committed work ethic, a keen purpose and most importantly, a sense of humor. In fact, the most significant difference between James Bond and Fitzroy MacLean is that the former is a fictional character and the latter a real man who somehow survived this incredible string of adventures.
MacLean compiled his experiences into a big book Eastern Approaches, organizing it into three parts: “Golden Road” about his diplomatic life in Moscow and clever sidestepping ventures into former Silk Route kingdoms; “Orient Sand” regarding his experiences as a saboteur in North Africa; and “Balkan War” detailing his experience with the guerillas. The entire book is a wonderful read, in particular the first two parts. The Balkan years have moments of extreme vividness, but they go a little long and are a bit much on logistical information that might not interest the casual reader (as opposed to the history buff).
MacLean launches right into his story-- there is no mention of childhood, university days, or any pertinent autobiographical information. It is very present-tense storytelling, concerned with whatever obstacles MacLean must overcome, whether they be eluding authorities on the road to the fabled ancient city of Bokhara or securing a safe supply drop zone for partisan guerillas. Through it all, he is detailed in his descriptions, anecdotal in his storytelling, and ribald in describing his more acute setbacks, as when he is briefly waylaid in Biisk, a small town in Central Asia: “Biisk did no credit to anyone. The dozen stone-built houses were without exception of pre-revolutionary construction and the wooden houses with their eaves carved in the old Siberian style were unbelievably dilapidated. The row of shops in the high street were a disgrace even by Soviet standards and the unpaved streets a sea of mud. What I saw of the population looked depressed, which indeed they had every right to be.” And then, in what seems could be another lifetime but is only a few years later, retreating with his Allied desert patrol unit after an unsuccessful sneak attack against Italian supply lines in Benghazi, an air raid of Italian fighter planes nearly obliterates their convoy: “Another truck full of explosives went up, taking with it all my personal kit. That was another two trucks gone. My equipment was now reduced to an automatic pistol, a prismatic compass and one plated teaspoon. From now onwards I should be traveling light.” Arguably such a quip would not be out of place in a cinematic 007 Act II setback.
The adventurer, Fitzroy MacLean
MacLean's firsthand experience in a paranoiac Soviet Russia and the camraderie of guerilla life in Yugoslavia are invaluable historical accounts. Obviously a winning personality (and a bit of a natural linguist, conversant in English, French, Italian, Russian, Serb-Croat and basic German) he gets on well with the hundreds of invididuals passing through his journeys-- not just Churchill and Tito, or his comrades in the Bosnian wilderness, but even the Secret Police members doing their best to follow him. His curiosity pushes him to plunge deeper into Russia's frontiers and his enthusiasm for these experiences make for enjoyable, if not enviable reading. He could easily have sat out the war with the Foreign Office, but runs for a political seat (as it was this clause only that enabled him to resign from the Foreign Office) and enlists in the army. Competent, creative, and intelligent, he rises quickly through the ranks and is trusted with very difficult missions. His bravery in North Africa is astonishing. The story of crossing the desert and sneaking into one of the largest enemy-occupied cities in North Africa so as to install time bombs on large Axis cargo ships is the stuff of pulp fiction (and the mission turns into a complete disaster, but with a twist, that is some of the best narrative in a very good story).
Eastern Approaches was originally published in 1949, following the onset of the Cold War. Though MacLean reluctantly involved himself in politics (his entry into Parliament, and later the difficult task of managing compromise between leaders of oppositional ideaologies), what he had witnessed in the Soviet Union convinced him that capitalist democracy is much preferable to communism and its totalitarian excesses (which would prove to be a conundrum for MacLean later in Yugoslavia, supporting Partisans at the expense of Royalists and their King. But it was the communists truly committed to fighting fascism and to betray them after defeating a common foe was nearly as disagreeable as communism itself). The show trials in 1938 were particularly disturbing. Stalin purged his leadership in Moscow including Bukharin, a former confidant of Lenin and legend in the Russian Revolution, and Yagoda who had been People's commisssar for Internal Affairs. Tried in a kangaroo court with no hope of acquittal, it was difficult for a foreigner like MacLean to understand why a nation would sacrifice those responsible for running it. Left to conjecture, he writes:
“The trial would serve, too, as a reminder of the dangers besetting both the Soviet State and the individual citizen. It would help to keep up the nervous tension which, extending to every walk of life, had become one off the chief instruments of Soviet internal policy. By making people suspicous of one another, by teaching them to see spies and traitors everywhere, it would increase 'vigilance,' render even more improbably the germination of subversive ideas... Much, too, would be explained that had hitherto been obscure. Shortages, famines had been due, not to the shortcomings of the Soviet system, but to deliberate wrecking.”
No doubt MacLean did not want the same institutions installed in Yugoslavia, where he risked his life to liberate the Slavs from the Nazis. We say that hindsight is 20/20 and it is quite true. At the time of WWII, when history was unfolding, a soldier was only trying to stay alive long enough to win victory. Yugoslavia would eventually go communist under Tito, but the Marshall would break from Stalin and the Soviets and pursue an independent non-aligned form of communism much more open than Stalin's satellites in Eastern Europe. MacLean pretty much understood this from the get-go, but following orders, successfully organized the Partisans with supplies and air support, and operated as a liason between them and Allied command. This entailed going back and forth from the forested hillsides of Bosnia, hungry, wet, desolate, to lavish State dinners in Italy, and MacLean, an epicurian with endurance to spare enjoyed the best of both worlds. They say in sports it's not a matter of winning or losing but how you play the game. The same is not exactly true in war-- losing could mean the punishment of death or a very miserable existence, but how you fight is particularly important. We should never romanticize war, but MacLean does make the most of his numerous situations and while the following passage describing gurerrila life in the Serbian countryside does not glamorize war, it is plain from MacLean's recollections that the daily grind, while alternately terrifying and exhausting, was occasionally idyllic, or at the very least, interspersed with beautiful moments:
“I recall, too, without being able to place them in the general plan of or journey, numerous isolated scenes and incidents which have somehow stuck in my memory; cold clear water spurting from a pump on the hillside under the trees in a village where we stopped in the blazing heat of midday, one working the pump while the others put their heads under it; a vast meal of milk and scrambled eggs eaten ravenously by the open window of a low, cool, upper room overlooking a valley; sleeping on the grass in an orchard by a little stream and waking suddenly in the dark to find Sergeant Duncan's hand on my shoulder; 'They're moving off, sir; they say the Germans are coming;' and then shouts of 'Pokret!' 'Get going!' and confusion and plunging horses and 'What's happened to the wireless set?'; long dismal tramps in pitch darkness through pouring rain; discussion whether to push on or to stop in a village with a population reputed to be pro-German or riddled with typhus; knocking and being told that one of the family has just died of typhus; hoping this is bluff and sleeping there all the same, all crowded into one room; waking next morning to find the rain stopped and the house, where we had arrived in the middle of the night, surrounded by orchards laded with ripe plums; arriving in a village to find a wedding in progress and being swept, before we know where we are, into a kolo, twisting and whirling in the sunshine on the green with the village maidens; lying at night out in the our sleeping bags and listening to the wireless; the BBC, the 9 o'clock news, Tomny Handley.”
It is our good fortune MacLean survived so that his recollections are now part of the collected narrative of those years. Such memories resurrect the past vividly, reminding us history is not just made up of nation states, war victories, or ideaologies, but of individuals from different tribes breaking bread together and a dance with the local maiden under the moonlight, a most ephemeral moment, might linger in your soul forever and ever.