Winfred

2

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

I cannot tell you my story without you knowing how it began. I was born and raised on a small farm in Sussex, England. My family was not well-to-do, but we got by alright each month. I well remember all the times I spent with my family. It was because of them, you see, that I went into this line of work. My father was a pilot in the RAF. My older brother joined the British Navy, and I, fascinated with their tales of the great battles that they might fight in, if called upon to do so, decided that I wanted to do that as well. The year was 1935.

What I didn’t know was how hard it was for a woman to make it into the army. Through help of father’s contacts, however, I was able to be referred to the WAAF: the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. I wasn’t doing much, but it was something.

A few short years later, I was shocked by news of World War. Or, well… I should not say that I was shocked. I had seen it coming. It just, well, you know, when it happens, you truly realize the frailty of peace, and indeed life, and it sort of knocks the breath from you, like a punch in the gut. 

Adolf Hitler, the new leader of Germany, was quite an interesting man. Not exactly in a good way. At first, he seemed good enough to the Germans, but when his leadership was really cemented, he began to do terrible things, such as sending Jews and other minority groups to concentration camps, in order to make the Aryan Race pure. 

After my initial shock over the declaration of war, I was quite excited to be doing something to rescue the enslaved Germans from Hitler’s grasp. Of course, I did not think about the fact that some of them actually wanted to be part of his so-called mission. 

At first, the WAAF was not exactly involved in the war effort. We only ferried planes and such. Maybe did a little wireless operating here and there in between flights. When I received the opportunity to work as a spy in the year 1943, I was quite thrilled, although I must admit that I was nervous.

According to the man who signed me on, and gave me training, I was perfect as a spy, because my hair was blonde and my eyes were gray-blue. Apparently, this would help me blend in with the Germans. It really hit me then, that this was it. I was going in amongst the enemy, and who knew if I would come out, dead or alive. 

I made friends in the spy network; it was not as if it was a lonely job. The others I met were actually quite amiable. However, I did feel alone whenever I went on a mission. Not being able to tell people the truth, or to truly make friends was certainly hard. I had a hard time adjusting to being so secretive. My job was to get in and get out, with as much information as possible. Whether that meant pretending to be a German interrogator, or a member of the Gestapo, I had to be ready at short notice.

I was outfitted similarly to the other German soldiers. You know, the kinds that they picture on war propaganda posters or in the newspapers. If any of my fellow citizens were to have seen me walking down a street, I am certain that they could have easily mistaken me for a German. I spoke German, I looked German, for my jobs, I had to become German. If I wasn’t German enough, I could be easily discovered by the actual Germans, and that would not exactly turn out well, as was later proved. 

The day on which I was captured started out like any other day. I entered the captain’s building, having been told that he had work for me. I was soon to find out what that work actually was. I was to assume a false name: Kathe Schmidt. Upon entrance to Occupied France, I would move from place to place, gathering as much information on German troop movements and plans as possible. I was given another set of identity papers, to go along with my original ones; the ones bearing my real name. 

That night, a ferry pilot, one of my friends, Michael Sullivan, flew me across the channel and I parachuted into France. The last time I had seen France had been six years ago, when we went on a trip to Paris. I had loved it; every single fountain, frilly lady’s dress, sidewalk café…. Paris was a dream come true for a farm girl like me. All too soon, however, I had been forced to leave and return home.

Seeing France again had made me overwhelmingly giddy for a moment. Soon, however, I remembered my mission. 

Looking back, I suppose it was that brief lapse from giving attention to my important mission that got me in the Prison. Really, one mistake started a chain of events that landed me in the dark, scary building. 

Right before jumping out of the plane, I grabbed my identity papers. But not just my ones for Kathe Schmidt. I also grabbed my ordinary ones. The ones labeled with my name: Kathleen Winfred. 

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image: Kathleen's WAAF uniform