was also allowed to evolve and manage his own plans, or âplotsâ, as he referred to them â the choice of word, given his later career as a novelist, seems significant. Some of Flemingâs ideas were run-of-the-mill, some were fantastical and impractical, and some, in the opinion of his colleagues, were simply mad. Even Godfrey noted that Fleming tended not to let practicalities get in the way of a good âplotâ: âHe had plentyof ideas and was anxious to carry them out but was not interested in, and would prefer to ignore, the extent of the logistics background inseparable to all projects.â In a sense, Flemingâs task was to dream up espionage plans with convincing scenarios; others would then be charged with trying to turn fiction into reality. In this, he was preparing for, and precisely reversing, the process that would lead to the creation of James Bond.
Among Flemingâs more remarkable ideas were: scuttling cement barges in the Danube at its most narrow point in order to block the waterway for German shipping; forging Reichsmarks to disrupt the German economy; dropping an observer (possibly Fleming himself) on the island of Heligoland to monitor the shipping outside Kiel; sinking a lump of concrete off Dieppe with men inside it to observe the German coastal defences; luring German secret agents to Monte Carlo and capturing them; and floating a radio ship in the North Sea to broadcast depressing and/or irritating propaganda to the Germans. âWhat nonsense they were,â Fleming would later write, âthose romantic Red Indian daydreams so many of us indulged in at the beginning of the war.â They may have seemed nonsensical in retrospect, but at the time they were matters of life and death, and Ian treated his new job with a dedication he had never shown before, starting work at 6 a.m. and continuing late into the night. âIt was deadly serious as well as intellectually stimulating,â wrote one colleague. Lieutenant Fleming receivedwartime promotions to acting lieutenant commander in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, then acting commander â the same rank as James Bond.
âOperation Ruthlessâ, which Fleming concocted in September 1940, offers an excellent example of his talents as both an espionage planner and a novelist. The cryptanalysts at Bletchley Park had already broken the code used on the fabled Enigma machine by the German Abwehr, or military intelligence service, but they had not yet penetrated the mysteries of the code used by the German navy, which used a different coding machine. NID wanted a codebook, so Fleming came up with a plan. The Germans had begun operating a rescue boat in the English Channel to pick up downed pilots. If this boat, presumably carrying a codebook aboard, could be lured to pick up what looked like a downed German plane, the crew could be overpowered and the codebook seized. Flemingâs plan came in three acts:
Obtain from the Air Ministry an air-worthy German bomber. Pick a tough crew of five, including pilot, W/T (wireless/telegraph) officer and word-perfect German speaker. Dress them in German Air Force uniforms, add blood and bandages to suit.
Crash plane in the Channel after making SOS to rescue service.
Once aboard rescue boat, shoot German crew, dump overboard, bring rescue boat back to English port.
Fleming added a Bond touch, insisting that the pilot be a âtough bachelor, able to swimâ. A Heinkel He 111 bomber, shot down over Scotland and since repaired, was obtained, along with some German uniforms. The plan sounded simple, but, as with many Fleming plots, there were serious practical objections, not least the argument that a Heinkel crashed at speed might kill its crew on impact or sink so fast that all inside would drown. Undaunted, Ian proposed to accompany the crew in person, an idea that was flatly rejected by Godfrey: âIan was someone who simply could not fall into enemy