Krystyna Skarbek

AKA Christine Granville

Young Andrew

Andrew and Christine

Sources:

https://ww2db.com/person_bio.php?person_id=1050

http://wmrokuhistorii.blogspot.com/2014/01/krystyna-skarbek-ulubiony-szpieg.html

https://nigelperrin.com/christinegranville.htm

http://mentalfloss.com/article/74271/retrobituaries-christine-granville-wwii-special-agent

https://culture.pl/en/article/the-polish-jewish-countess-who-became-britains-finest-secret-agen

The Spy Who Loved-Clare Mulley

Maria Krystyna Janina Skarbek was born in Warsaw in 1908, the second child of Count Jerzy Skarbek and Stephania Goldfeder. Krystnya grew up in a wealthy home due to her father’s position as a successful banker. Although her surroundings were plush, her soul grew strong as steel.  The plucky girl was greatly self‐assured and possessed patriotism, and fearlessness. Her father nicknamed her “Vesper” meaning Venus, the evening star. Venus also fit Krystyna because she was beautiful. She once even entered the Miss Polonia beauty contest where she placed 6th. Although she was extremely persuasive and voraciously loyal, she was prepared to be cold and ruthless when necessary.

After leaving convent school Krystyna could have easily become a society girl, living a life of leisure and ease, but her father’s extravagant lifestyle took a toll on the family and after his death, Krystyna was forced to work to support herself. In order to make ends meet, she  took an office job above a Fiat garage, but ended up getting very ill from the rising car fumes. Krystyna was eventually diagnosed with severe lung scarring. Her first job may have been miserable, but in a weird turn of circumstances ended up saving her life.

The family doctor suggested mountain air to improve her condition, and she took to skiing. The change of scenery did wonders for her health and the hobby became a passion that would be a hallmark of her espionage work.

At eighteen she married a businessman, Karol Getlich, but it was short‐lived and they divorced soon after. Her next husband much more intense, and introduced himself by confidently grabbing her waist as she hurtled down one of Zakopane’s more dangerous slopes. Jerzy (coincidentally her father’s name) Gizycki was a dominating and worldly character: physically imposing, moody and short‐tempered, he’d lived as a gold prospector and cowboy in the US before becoming a Polish diplomat and a writer with a passion for Africa. Although he could be dark and difficult to live with, Krystyna found him irresistible. They married in November 1938 in Warsaw and left Europe for a new life in colonial Kenya.

When Germany invaded Poland in 1939 the Gizyckis were in Ethiopia but  determined to defend their country they immediately left for London, where Krystyna began pulling whatever strings she could to help.

She first looked up Frederick Voigt, a well‐connected political journalist and BBC commentator who she’d met several years earlier, which led to several intelligence connections. First impressions of the beautiful and bold young lady were positive and M16 agents realized what an incredible asset they had on their hands.  Christine began officially working for the SOE-the Special Operations Executive, A British WWII intelligence organization.

An important objective of the SOEl at the time was to sabotage Germany’s war efforts. This included disseminating anti‐Nazi propaganda across occupied Europe and utilizing agents in neutral countries to distribute it. Lines of communication between Hungary and Poland were badly needed as German propaganda controlled all news, effectively cutting Poland off from the outside world.

Krystyna’s first mission was to pose as a journalist based out of Budapest, under this cover, she crossed Slovakia and skied over the Polish border to Zakopane. Once  a courier channel was established, she began to deliver propaganda material for the Polish networks to distribute, and export whatever intelligence they had for London.

Hungary was a neutral country, but its government had recently accepted Slovakian territory offered by the Nazis and was more likely to cooperate with Germany than the Allies.

Using the cover name of “Madame Marchand”, Krystyna found a flat and immediately began making plans for first trip to Poland. Stubbornly ignoring all advice she left in February, when temperatures had dropped snow in the mountains was over 10 feet deep. Enlisting the help of some old friends in Zakopane, Krystyna set off to begin her work.

After returning to Budapest she submitted a long report to London, and was then faced with an unexpected problem. Her partner had become infatuated with her and after rebuffing his proposal of marriage, the man set out to make a theatrical gesture. First he jumped off the city’s Elizabeth Bridge-without realizing the water below  frozen. Next he attempted to shoot himself, but lost his nerve at the last moment and only injured his leg. He was obviously not a optimal partner to work with.

Thankfully there were more stable contacts to be made, the most important being Andrzej Kowerski. A fellow Pole, Kowerski was also from landowning stock and had joined the Polish motorised division in 1939. Ironically, he lost a leg in a shooting accident before the war, but that didn’t stop him from smuggling dozens of Polish soldiers and Allied prisoners of war over the Hungarian border. Kowerski and Krystyna soon made a formidable team.

After crossing the Polish border the two were caught by Slovakian guards, who threatened to hand them over to the Gestapo. Cool as a cucumber, Krystyna refused to disclose anything despite several hours of interrogation, and eventually persuaded her captors to take the money she was carrying and let both of them go. Krystyna’s quick thinking saved them- but they were now known to the Slovak police, making any future trips very dangerous.

Krystyna and Kowerski, partners in their work- also became partners in life, embarking on a romantic relationship. Their love only seemed to strengthen their dedication to their work, but things were becoming difficult. Krystyna was running out of money, communications with London were difficult and their work was becoming more dangerous every day.

Kowerski hardly had time to sleep, but steeled himself to drive thousands of kilometres in his trusty Opel saloon to smuggle Polish airmen – now desperately needed to replace pilots lost during the Battle of Britain – into Yugoslavia. He had also become well known to the Hungarian police and their Gestapo counterparts, who stepped up surveillance of his movements. Krystyna continued to push herself hard as well, and after a fourth trip into Poland in mid‐November she became seriously ill with flu. Despite their devotion to the cause and each other, it was getting difficult to keep going.

The inevitable police raid came in the early hours of 24 January 1941. After several fruitless hours of grilling the team, the Gestapo were anxious to use more brutal methods of questioning, but Krystyna was able to bring the interrogation to a grinding halt.  Biting her tongue hard, she gave the impression that she was coughing up blood and was suffering from TB. At a prison hospital she underwent a chest X‐ray, which horrified her doctor-who didn’t know what she did-that her lungs were already horribly scarred, so he concluded that she was seriously ill and arranged for her and Kowerski’s release.

Although still under surveillance, both of them were able to slip away and sneak into the British embassy to ask for help in leaving Hungary. They were issued new passports, as well as  British names to go with them.Krystyna became “Christine Granville” and Kowerski decided on “Andrew Kennedy. Both kept these names for the rest of their lives.

Christine was hidden in the boot of the embassy’s Chrysler as it crossed over the Yugoslav border, then she joined Andrew in his battered car to continue their journey to Belgrade. Over the coming days they had to endure horrendous driving conditions and suspicious border guards but they eventually reached Istanbul in neutral Turkey, where the British consulate welcomed them.

After leaving Turkey, Christine and Andrew endured a long and dusty excursion through Syria and Jerusalem to report to SOE’s Cairo headquarters in May 1941 They hadn’t expected a heroes’ welcome, but they were mystified by the icy reception they received. There was a simple reason for it: the Polish government‐in‐exile in London had just ordered all ties with “amateur” networks be severed-claiming they had been penetrated by German intelligence.

This meant that SOE could not send either Christine or Andrew back to the Balkans, and Polish section officer Peter Wilkinson had the unenviable job of breaking the news. Having just arrived himself after a difficult journey from Crete, Wilkinson was blunt to the point of rudeness (something he later regretted) then took the precaution of putting both of them under surveillance, which Andrew soon found out about. Christine handed over microfilms she’d brought from Hungary as evidence of the importance of her sources, which clearly showed the build up of German forces in advance of the imminent invasion of Russia, but they too were ignored. Having put their lives on the line for their country, they were now suspected of being Gestapo spies.

Christine was bored out of her mind in Cairo. She and Andrew were kept on the SOE payroll but she soon found herself with little to do -She turned down the offer to become a cipher clerk – it seemed too much like office work – but took a wireless operator course, thinking it would be useful skill if another mission came her way. Meanwhile Andrew parted company and became a parachute instructor for SOE recruits (despite his wooden leg he insisted on jumping with every group). After completing her wireless training Christine also gained her parachute “wings”.

Christine tried in vain to get back to her espionage work, but a vacancy did not arrive until D-day.  Christine spoke near perfect French and having wireless skills too made her a perfect candidate for new missions.  She was briefed and given false identity papers in the name of Jacqueline Armand. Her codename was Pauline.

She parachuted near Vassieux in the Vercors region in the early hours of 7 July. The landing left her a bit bruised and battered, yet she managed to meet up with her contact. A day later Christine was off to the Italian border. Groups of Poles that had been reluctantly pressed into German service were garrisoned at frontier posts overlooking the winding Alpine passes, and her job would be to persuade them to change sides and hand over their arms. One day she was stopped near the Italian border by two German soldiers. Told to put her hands in the air she did so, revealing a grenade under each arm, pin withdrawn. Three soldiers died and the rest scattered.

One of her victories was the fort at Col de Larche, a 2000 foot high stronghold surrounded by dense  forests. Although bloodied and bruised after a day’s climb to reach the garrison, she convinced 200 Poles to disable their mountain guns and desert their posts. She also prevent German advances by blowing up roads and bridges.

Such episodes soon gained “Miss Pauline” respect among her male counterparts, but the next would make her a legend. After bringing over another Polish group to the maquis, news arrived that three important agents had been arrested. With commanders reluctant to attempt a rescue, she immediately cycled 25 miles to the Gestapo HQ and presented herself to Albert Schenck, a French liaison officer working with the Germans. She had nothing to bargain with, so she bluffed: declaring herself a British agent and the niece of Field Marshal Montgomery, she warned that an Allied invasion from the south was imminent, and the likes of Schenck would be “handed over to the mob” unless they cooperated with her. Christine managed this despite the fact there were wanted posters in the area with her face plastered on them.

It was a desperate gamble, but amazingly it paid off. French and US troops landed on the Riviera as predicted, and a hurried meeting was arranged

After three hours of negotiations they accepted Christine’s offer of two million francs and a guarantee of protection in return for the three prisoners’ lives. The money was dropped by air and the next day the three prisoners were freed, just hours ahead of their scheduled execution. But shortly after this, the SOE missions became fewer and fewer. Although her missions were less her romantic liaisons increased (Although she always stayed emotionally faithful to Andrew). One of her conquests is rumored to be Ian Fleming, who she was said to have dated for a year, causing her to be the inspiration for Vesper Lynd,(Remember, Vesper was her father’s childhood nickname for her) -the double agent bond girl in Casino Royale.  

Christine often half‐jokingly talked of the “horrors of peace” and she loathed the idea of a mundane life void of the adventure, camaraderie and sense of purpose that war had given her. Returning to Cairo she took a job at Middle East headquarters, and after some discussion, the SOE agreed to continue paying her until December 1945, shortly before it was due to disband itself. Alone and with no job prospects on the horizon, she faced an uncertain future.

Christine discovered that her mother had died in prison after being arrested by the Nazis, and with Poland under Russian occupation she knew she could not return home. Now stateless, despite her incredible work, the Home Office ignored her  requests for naturalization and she didn’t gain British citizen until over a year later. Some of her friends worried about Christine’s precarious situation and encouraged her to join Andrew, now in Germany, but, despite their unbreakable bond she never pursued the idea of marrying him.

Sometimes her pride and independence seemed to sabotage any chance of finding financial security: she gave no reason for refusing to accept a house left to her in a friend’s will, and turned down the chance of a government post because it was offered in respect of her SOE career. Instead she drifted through a string of menial jobs, including switchboard operator and Harrods shop assistant, but in 1947 her new British passport enabled her to escape the miseries of London for Kenya, where she met an old friend from Cairo days. The sun and open spaces did her good, and it was in Nairobi that she received the George Medal and OBE Even Africa had its ghosts, and Kenya sometimes remind her of pre‐war life with Gizycki.

Determined to travel and break out of her rut in London, Christine took a job as a stewardess on a New Zealand cruise liner in 1951 and joined its maiden voyage from Southampton to Wellington. One of the staff rules demanded that staff wear their wartime decorations, which made Christine an object of curiosity and caused a certain amount of jealousy, but one crew member paid too much attention to her.  A diminutive forty three‐year‐old, Dennis Muldowney was a pathetic and lonely figure who had joined the Merchant Navy in 1948 after his wife had divorced him on the grounds of cruelty. Soon became clear that Muldowney wanted to be at the centre of Christine’s life, whatever the cost.

For someone who hated domestic chores – she would always stay in hotels to avoid housework and having to cook – Christine must have found life onboard tedious and depressing.  As Muldowney’s obsessiveness grew she did her best to put some distance between them, but in 1952 he responded by taking a job as a porter at the Reform Club, just a short ride from her Kensington hotel. The night before Christine planned to finally join Andrew in Belgium, her stalker followed her through the front door and up to the landing. One of the hotel workers in the lounge heard Christine and Muldowney talking and return downstairs, then there was a sudden scream. With no warning Muldowney had suddenly produced a dagger and stabbed the heroine in the chest. The staff immediately overpowered him but she was dead moments later.

The medical report written before Muldowney’s trial concluded that he showed no signs of “serious mental disturbance”, and he ended up offering no defense. In a rambling and unrepentant final letter to his family he elevated his relationship with Christine to that of Antony and Cleopatra, and coldly asserted that she had “asked for what she got”. He was hanged at Pentonville prison in 1952.

Christine’s burial was attended by two hundred mourners, including Andrew, The incredible spy’s grave is unremarkable except for  a smaller plaque bearing Andrew’s name, laid after his death in 1988. He never married. Respecting his wishes, his ashes were laid to rest at the foot of her grave.

Christine was an incredible real life character with unbelievable fortitude and tenacity.

This life of Christine Granville reminds us…Just as Harriet the Spy says “Life is a struggle-a good spy gets in there and fights.”