To Catch a Shadow
A Wartime Tale of Espionage and Intrigue from Africa to North Russia
by
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Alone . . . very much alone. Just as I had insisted. But on a deserted beach in French Morocco, a mile north of Casablanca? I had not insisted on that. Too late to turn back. The drop-off ship has already pulled away, silently vanished in the darkness of the Atlantic night. My heart pounds. My breathing is shallow but quiet. I take a quick look around for signs of life and race across the beach to the relative safety of the sand dunes where I can sit, tame my pulse and regroup my thoughts. I lean back and press as tightly as I can against the base of the dune to make the smallest possible silhouette. Carefully studying the area around me, I hold my breath and concentrate – listening for people-type sounds. Only the rhythmic break of the surf and the thump of my heart come through. I begin to wonder what a guy from Brooklyn is doing way out here, all alone on the west coast of Africa. What’s more, my Chief hasn’t told me specifically how to get out of here . . . if I complete my task. Maybe he doesn’t expect me to make it back from this assignment. Possibly, he would prefer me to disappear . . . forever. I have devoted many hours to training for survival against other men. They tell me my skills with knives and handguns are extraordinary. I have been taught to kill. However, purposefully, this time, I carry no weapons of any kind. I wear a beat up, dirty, ill fitting, green, pinstriped civilian suit and a soiled, very tired Tyrolean hat with the brim turned down. My clothes have no labels. I have no papers, no identification cards of any kind. And I am cold! I have almost forgotten my real name; my first or last name. No one has called me by my "real" name in months. Instead of Leon Wortman, I became Jiraud Brevier. For security, my name had to be changed again. Now I am Dejacques; Léon Dejacques. For this mission, my appearance has been slightly modified. I have grown one of those thin mustaches and a short closely-cropped goatee considered quite dashing and gallant by young French men and women. Young? Me? Yes, 21. French? No. My Russian-American mother introduced me to the world in a hospital in Brooklyn. Most of my young summers had been spent on an isolated farm high up in the Catskill Mountains, operated by a trio of émigré Russian-Cossack soldiers. The only beaches I have known are Brighton Beach, Coney Island and Far Rockaway in south Brooklyn, and the cold mountain streams of upstate New York. What am I doing on this remote waterfront in the middle of a cold night disguised as a Frenchman? Why am I here? For more than 50 years I have kept details of the story to myself. Now, for some reason I feel an urgent need to tell you about the series of bizarre circumstances that have brightened, challenged and added unexpected excitement to my life . . . even though they often threatened and endangered my survival. You see, my friend, for many years I had been a key player in a secretive, deadly game. I was referred to as a Shadow Catcher.
And this is how it all began.
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About the Book
To Catch A Shadow
The book tells how he was hired as an engineer, so he thought, for a clandestine unit of the U.S. military, recruited, trained, and transferred to and from various government agencies. Given a new identity and trained in small-arm weapons, Leon was assigned deep-cover tasks that took him to Scotland, Southern France, French Morocco, Algeria, and North Russia. He fought a duel with a mole inside the U.S. military. In French Morocco, he located and gained entry into a cell of Nazi agents. How he managed to complete his assignment and shoot his way out is one of the many adventures and highlights of the story. On his last deep-cover assignment, and second trip into North Russia, he was arrested by the Soviet Secret Police.
About the Author
At the start of World War II, I worked as a radio station engineer. Shortly after my 21st birthday I was hired by the Outpost Division of the U.S. State Department as a Field Representative/radio-photo expert. After several transfers through various government agencies, I found myself in an intelligence division of the U.S. Military. I declined a captain’s commission but continued as a civilian employee of that division where I received training in survival and hand-to-hand combat. When the division became part of the new Organization for Special Services (OSS) I was sent on several deep-cover assignments from Africa to North Russia for a series of adventures I can never forget. My earlier experience and fluency in foreign languages combined with the courage of youth and an intense patriotic spirit were very much on my side.