American History Tellers - The Bastard Brigade - The Most Wanted Men | 5

Episode Date: August 14, 2019

As the Nazis inched closer to acquiring a nuclear weapon, panic grew among the Allied forces. The Alsos Mission — otherwise known as the Bastard Brigade — was put in charge of gathering intelligence on Hitler’s bomb project, seizing stores of Nazi uranium, and hunting down members of the Uranium Club. The first atomic spy outfit in history was underway. Their mission was led by the American-born son of a Russian Orthodox bishop, Colonel Boris Pash — a high school teacher, irreverent prankster, and veteran of two wars by his 18th birthday. Pash’s team would pursue leads across Europe, taking them on a dangerous journey from an Antwerp zoo to a French laboratory beset by snipers.Support us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's October 1944. You're an American soldier in Belgium on a top-secret mission. After a recent battle, the German-held city of Antwerp has opened up. Documents indicate that the Nazis have been stockpiling uranium somewhere nearby, and you're racing north in a jeep to look for it. You weave around the blackened husks of tanks on the road, as well as several charred bodies.

But as grim as that is, nothing prepares you for the scene when you arrive in Antwerp. You turn to your commanding officer. Sir, why are we at the zoo? There are reports of a disturbance here. Apparently the locals detained some Nazis and might know something about the uranium. And sure enough, you hear a commotion in the distance near the lion's den, and you start walking toward it. But as you pass the elephant pen, you see something. Are those bones? I think so.

And a giraffe skeleton? What do you think they died of? They didn't just die. They were eaten. What? The Nazis blockaded the city, and people were starving. They probably ate their pets, too. Jesus.

But things get even wilder inside the lion's den. Hundreds of people are crowded around something. You climb onto a bench to look and freeze when you see what's inside the cages. Once again, there are animal bones piled up, but this time the cages aren't empty. The Belgians have filled them back up with Nazis. Near the front, people are jabbing the Nazis in the cages with sticks. Others are pelting them with rocks. You jump down and start to push forward to break things up. These are prisoners of war until your CO grabs you from behind. See that Belgian soldier? I do now. He's been eyeing

us since we came in, and there are a lot more of them than us. I thought you just wanted to question them. I do. But if you try to play hero here, they'll toss us in that cage alongside them. So we're just going to let these people slaughter them? He squeezes your arm hard. I don't like it any more than you. But remember your mission, soldier. Uranium. The Nazis could be close to getting an atomic bomb and we're no good to anyone dead. Now move out. This mission started out strange and it's only gotten more bizarre. But you know your CO is right. It's uranium you're after. So you leave the roar of the lion's den and the fate of the captured Germans to the Belgians. You can't stop them,

because you've got to stop Hitler from getting the bomb. From Wondery comes a new series about a lawyer who broke all the rules. Need to launder some money? Broker a deal with a drug cartel? Take out a witness? Paul can do it. I'm your host, Brandon Jinks Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. Have you ever wondered who created that bottle of sriracha that's living in your fridge? Or why nearly every house in America has at least one game of Monopoly? Introducing The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast about the surprising origin stories of the products you're obsessed with.

Listen to The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. Given the panic among American scientists about the prospect of Hitler acquiring an atomic bomb, the leaders of the Manhattan Project realized they needed better insight into what the Nazi atomic bomb project was up to. So they put together a team of undercover soldiers and scientists called the Alsace Mission. The mission was led by the swashbuckling Colonel Boris Pash. The group was the first atomic spy outfit in history, and its job was to gather intelligence on the Nazi bomb project, seize stores of Nazi uranium, and ultimately hunt down members of the Uranium Club like Werner Heisenberg.

The Alsace mission often worked at or near the front lines, careening into dangerous situations like the one at the Antwerp Zoo. But Pash and his colleagues had no choice. Despite the successful D-Day invasion, Allied leaders were terrified that, with just a few pounds of uranium, Adolf Hitler could reverse the entire D-Day operation, driving the Allies off the continent and creating massive death and destruction too. There was just too much at stake, so even reckless action was taken.

This is Episode 5, The Most Wanted Men. Imagine it's fall of 1943. You're an American general in Washington, D.C., and you're a busy man. People wait for hours to see you. But this morning, you find yourself in an embarrassing dilemma. God, where the hell are they? Every night before leaving, you deposit any top-secret reports you have in your safe. And you thought you did so last night.

Some dossiers on German physicists. But they weren't there this morning, and you can't for the life of you remember where you put them. Worst of all, you've got a meeting in a few minutes, and you're going to need those dossiers. God. There's your appointment. But you didn't get to be a general by being stupid. You'll have to bluff your way through. You buzz your secretary.

Is that Pash? Send him in. Boris. Good to see you. Sit down. I appreciate your time, General. Did they send the dossiers over? I'm eager to see them.

They did. But I'm actually interested to know what you've dug up on your end. Get an independent perspective. Yes, sir. There are a dozen German physicists we're eyeing. You listen as Pasch takes you through each scientist. You've heard other generals grumble about him, that he's brash and careless, but he's quite thorough here and you're impressed. When he finishes, you summarize his points. So you think hunting Heisenberg should be our top priority? And in the meantime, we should try to seize as much Nazi uranium as we can. Yes, sir.

Exactly. I think I'd come to the same conclusion. Good work. Thank you. Now, could I get a copy of those dossiers? Well, absolutely. I'll have them made this afternoon. Well, I was hoping to get a jump on it this morning.

Well, I have some meetings to attend. I'll have your secretary handle it. I said I'll send them over, Boris. And I said I want to see them now. You're taken aback. That's not a tone you're accustomed to. But Pash is staring you right in the eye. Where are the dossiers, General?

What are you implying, Colonel? Nothing. But I thought these might interest you. He opens his suitcase and drops several files onto your desk. The missing dossiers. Where the hell did you get these? It was warm yesterday. You left your window cracked last night. You broke in? But they were in my safe. What's your anniversary? My anniversary? November 4th, 1923. I looked it up at City Hall, and 11-4-23 is the combination of your safe. You son of a bitch. You should thank me, sir. If I'd been a German agent, get out of my office! You practically

shove him through the door. You're boiling in rage, and have your secretary put you through to Parrish's commanding officer at the Manhattan Project. Yes, hello? Is this Groves? I don't ever want to see Pash's face again. In fact, I want him overseas, preferably in the line of fire. Boris Pash enjoyed mischief. If he could teach someone a lesson with a clever ruse, he never hesitated to pull one over on them. But occasionally, he took things too far. To teach high-ranking generals a lesson about security, he sometimes broke into their offices and stole top-secret

documents from their safes. He'd then return them the next day with a smirk, but the generals were not amused. But above all, Pash was a soldier, and he never let anything or anyone interfere with his mission. He learned this soldierly ethos early. Although born in San Francisco, one of his earliest memories was of the 1906 earthquake there, he was mostly raised in Russia, where his father was a Russian Orthodox bishop. Despite that religious background, Pash joined the Russian army during World War I at just 14 years old. He proved a daring young soldier, helping to liberate German-held cities and storming German ships.

Then, when the Russian Revolution broke out in 1917, he joined the anti-communist side, making him a two-war veteran before he was even 18. During that war, Pash helped capture the city of Odessa and suffered a five-inch bayonet wound on his left leg. He was also taken prisoner by the communists and eventually won a medal, the Cross of St. George, for his exploits. When eventually the anti-communist side lost the war,

Pasch fled back to his native United States. And perhaps he never had a real high school experience himself, he decided to go into teaching and coaching. In fact, he ended up teaching at one of the most famous high schools in the world then, Hollywood High in Los Angeles. Because of California's strict labor laws, child actors had to attend classes in between films. Hollywood High was the most convenient location for them, and some of the biggest names in the business attended school there during Pash's tenure. An arrogant Mickey Rooney used to park his blue convertible on the lawn and exit amid crowds of starstruck girls.

Classmates remember Lana Turner as so spellbinding that even teachers stared at her. Judy Garland was devastated when a publicity tour prevented her from walking the stage at graduation. But glitz and glamour never impressed Boris Pash. He was a soldier first and foremost, and frankly, teaching lacked the thrill of war. So over his summer break in 1930, he joined the U.S. Army Reserve, his third professional army, and started taking classes on scouting, document analysis, and sabotage.

In 1940, Pash finally quit Hollywood High and moved to San Francisco to help run the U.S. Army's Intelligence Division in western North America. His first big assignment came in early 1942 after a Japanese submarine shelled an oil refinery in southern California. Although less devastating than Pearl Harbor, no one was killed. The strike on the refinery was the second attack on U.S. territory in just a few months, and it set off a wave of panic in the American military. It seemed that Japan could strike at will, anytime, anyplace, from air or sea. To the eyes of worried military leaders, the remote and sparsely populated Baja Peninsula of western Mexico seemed like a potential staging ground for more Japanese attacks,

so Pash sent several undercover spies there to scout around for signs of Japanese activity. They searched for secret military installations, reporting back to Pash using code phrases. Airplane runways were referred to as baseball diamonds, and airplanes were gloves. Gasoline depots were bats and balls, and potential saboteurs were umpires. Later that same year, Pash also began investigating a lab at the University of California at Berkeley that was doing important research on uranium. Several communist spies had infiltrated the lab and were passing secrets to the Soviets. Ever since he'd been captured by the communists and his side had lost the Russian Revolution, Pash had hated the

Soviets. He was determined to root them out of the Berkeley lab. During this mission, Pash also clashed with one of the key figures in the Manhattan Project, Robert Oppenheimer, the head of the Los Alamos Weapons Design Lab. Having grown up rich and politically naive, Oppenheimer had always focused on his scientific work. In terms of politics, he supported the fashionable causes among his circle in Berkeley. In the 1930s, that meant labor rights and communism, and Oppenheimer had spent most of the decade cozying up to Stalinists and raising money for communist front groups. He also surrounded himself with student radicals who worked on fission research by day and met secretly with Soviet spies by night. But by the late 1930s, Oppenheimer had been disabused of his notions and realized

what a nightmare life in the USSR was under Stalin. But the military still viewed him as a huge security risk, so much so that despite being head of the most secret laboratory of World War II, the army refused to grant him a security clearance to work there. The head of the most secret laboratory of World War II, the Army refused to grant him a security clearance to work there. The head of the Manhattan Project, Leslie Groves, finally had to intervene and arrange for a temporary pass so Oppenheimer's tenure could begin. But despite his confidence in Oppenheimer, Groves felt duty-bound to investigate the physicist's ties to communism, and he gave the job to Pash. Pash instituted all-out surveillance on Oppenheimer. He tapped a physicist's phone and arranged for two bodyguards to drive him around,

supposedly for Oppenheimer's protection, but really to report back to Pash what Oppenheimer was up to. Agents also broke into Oppenheimer's car and tailed him on his trips to meet his mistress in San Francisco. The stress of being under constant surveillance soon got to Oppenheimer. Already thin, he dropped from 130 pounds to a skeletal 110 and told friends he wanted to quit the Manhattan Project. But rather than do that, he sat down with one of Pash's lieutenants and started naming names. In particular, he named a British engineer he knew was a communist spy. He thought this would get Pash off his back and prove his loyalty. But instead, Pash demanded a face-to-face interview

with Oppenheimer. The two sat down at a room at the University of California, Berkeley, that Pash had secretly wired to record the conversation. The interview, though, ended up making both men look bad. Pash wanted more names, and while he was polite, he was also relentless. At one point, he compared himself to a bloodhound and promised Oppenheimer that he would never give up the scent. For his part, Oppenheimer said some remarkably careless things for such a smart person. At one point, he admitted that he would feel friendly about sharing nuclear secrets with Russia, which left Pash horrified. Oppenheimer then speculated, without any prompting, how Soviet spies would smuggle top-secret documents around.

Probably shrink them into microfilm, he guessed, and deliver them to the local Soviet consulate. This detail left Pash wondering how a supposedly innocent scientist would know Soviet methods for smuggling documents to Moscow. Oppenheimer also lied, repeatedly. In fact, Oppenheimer later described much of what he said in that interview as a cock-and-bull story and a tissue of lies. Ultimately, Pash couldn't pin anything on Oppenheimer, and the physicist did get his security clearance. After the war, though, during the height of the anti-communist witch hunts, the U.S. government would strip that security clearance away to Oppenheimer's humiliation. And most of his later troubles would trace right back to the lies he told Boris Pash that one afternoon.

Despite the clash with Oppenheimer, Pash did expose several communist spies. And on a personal level, the work thrilled Pash. Although he had been a regular infantry soldier before, he loved working with undercover agents, and he decided he wanted to do more. Pash's pranks had earned him some enemies among the higher-ups in the military, but his dedication and gung-ho mentality impressed the head of the Manhattan Project, General Leslie Groves. Groves, in fact, had a hunch that his hard-charging colonel could help him alleviate a problem he'd recently encountered.

Through the ranks of his scientists, a panic about the German nuclear bomb project was spreading like wildfire. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand, lies a tiny volcanic island. It's a little-known British territory called Pitcairn, and it harboured a deep, dark scandal. There wouldn't be a girl on Pitcairn once they reached the age of 10 that was still a virgin.

It just happens to all of them. I'm journalist Luke Jones, and for almost two years, I've been investigating a shocking story that has left deep scars on generations of women and girls from Pitcairn. When there's nobody watching, nobody going to report it, people will get away with what they can get away with. In the Pitcairn trials, I'll be uncovering a story of abuse and the fight for

justice that has brought a unique, lonely Pacific island to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitcairn Trials exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today? Who created that bottle of red Sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in your fridge? Did you know that the Air Jordans were initially banned by the NBA? We'll explore all that and more in The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boy. This is Nick.

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that are gonna blow up your group chat. Jack, Nintendo, Super Mario Brothers, best-selling video game of all time. How'd they do it? Nintendo never fires anyone, ever. Follow The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. Imagine it's December 1943 in Chicago. You're the wife of a Manhattan Project scientist,

and this is normally your favorite time of year, just a few weeks before Christmas. But this is your first Christmas outside of New York, and you're feeling lonely. You've hardly seen your husband all month, and when you do, he's tired and irritable. Thankfully, you've got a whole house full of family members coming for the holidays. In fact, when your husband gets home, the both of you and your eight-year-old daughter Mabel are going shopping for a tree. But as soon as your husband walks in, you sense something wrong. Hello, honey. Don't take off your coat. We're going out for that tree, remember? I need a drink.

He pushes past you. You feel a flash of irritation, but you bite your tongue. Okay, well, why don't we take a few minutes? We haven't had a nice, quiet drink together in a while. He grunts and slumps down on the couch. You fix yourself something and sit next to him. I was thinking we could try the lot over on Grand, and if they're running low, we're not getting a treat tonight. I have to go back to lab. Oh. Well, tomorrow then. We're not getting a treat.

Period. You're going to have to cancel Christmas. We're not having it here. But I've already invited everyone. Then uninvite them. And celebrate here by ourselves? No. I'm sending you and Mabel to the countryside that week with my sister.

What? Why? I can't tell you. You're not the countryside that week with my sister. What? Why? I can't tell you. You're not going to pull that excuse again, are you? What do you mean? Why are we moving to Chicago? I can't tell you. Why can't I ever stop at your office?

I can't tell you. You've done nothing to help out this month, and now you're sabotaging the one thing we had to look forward to. He shrugs. This only makes you more furious. Don't you even care? I don't have time for this. Look, this is for your own good. You should be grateful.

You can't believe how patronizing he's being. And suddenly, it hits you what must really be going on. He's trying to push you away. What's going on here? Are you having an affair? No, no. Be honest with me. Who is she?

Honey, it's not that at all. It's... I can't tell you. Christ, where did I even start? He sags and puts his head in his hands. He looks so miserable that you almost feel bad for him. I'm going to fix myself another drink, but when I get back, I want an explanation. You fix your drink, count to ten, walk back to the couch, and sit down. Okay, of course, it's the war. Hitler's building some sort of superweapon. A bomb. He explains that his lab is hearing rumors about it from colleagues overseas.

No one knows exactly when Hitler would deploy it, but a big city like Chicago seems a very likely target, and Christmas a very likely time. Are you sure about this? No, I'm not sure, but I can't risk exposing you and Mabel. I don't want you here in the city. Well, Mabel deserves to know the truth then, and if we have to flee like refugees from our own city, I'm going to tell her the truth. I'm going to tell her about the bomb. He doesn't answer.

He just takes another drink, looking more miserable than ever. In 1943, several American scientists began examining all the rumors they'd been hearing about Heisenberg and other physicists and tried to figure out the Germans' probable rate of progress on atomic weapons. What they discovered shocked them. Their calculations revealed that Hitler would soon have enough radioactive material to build a dirty bomb. Unlike traditional nuclear bombs, dirty bombs don't use radioactive materials to create a fission explosion. But instead, the highly radioactive isotopes are used as a poison, spread by conventional explosives, and exposing people in huge numbers to dangerous radioactivity

when they ingest or breathe in the atoms. This sent the American scientists' imaginations galloping. Obviously, Hitler would try to detonate the bomb in a big city to hurt as many people as possible. So officials set up secret nuclear defense systems in Boston, Chicago, New York, San Francisco, and Washington, with Geiger counters wired to air raid sirens in case of an attack. As for when the attack would occur, they reasoned that Hitler would detonate the bomb to have the maximum negative emotional impact on the Allies. And what time could be more devastating than an attack on

Christmas. So several scientists packed their wives and children off for the countryside, then spent a grim week at home alone by the phone, waiting for news about the end of the world. Nothing happened, of course, but the panic the scientists felt was real and was interfering with their work. Eventually, officials in the Manhattan Project decided they needed more information about what exactly German scientists were up to, so they put together what became known as the Alsace Mission. The name was a sort of pun. Alsace means grove in Greek, as in a grove of trees,

and someone thought it would be clever to use that name for a mission supervised by General Groves. As a top-secret group, Alsace didn't fit into the normal military chain of command in Europe, instead reporting only to Washington. Because the members lacked a parent unit, they were metaphorically bastards, and thus was born their nickname, the Bastard Brigade. But they were also somewhat literal bastards, hard-charging daredevils, and that was especially true of the group's leader, Boris Pash. Pash got tapped to lead Alsace partly because he was talented and experienced, but partly because he'd infuriated several important generals in Washington and needed to

move on. Pash's first mission was to travel to Italy and track down some nuclear physicists working for the Axis powers in Rome. They left on their mission in December 1943, but airplanes had much more limited range back then. So to reach Italy, Pash had to fly from Washington to Miami, then to Puerto Rico, then to British Guiana, then to Brazil, then to French West Africa, Marrakesh, and then Algeria. The trip took eight full days, but Pash's crew was feeling optimistic when they arrived in Naples on December 15th. As he boasted to Washington in a cable, the morale of the members of the mission is excellent.

But the cheer didn't last. The Axis powers still occupied Rome then, so Pash and his scientists had nothing to do for several long months in Naples, which was a gritty town at the best of times, and especially depressing that winter. The food was awful, most buildings lacked electricity and water, and outbreaks of typhus and syphilis decimated the troops there. Pash's scientists were especially frustrated when, having nothing else to keep them busy, they got assigned menial chores like kitchen duty. They were elite scientists on a

top-secret mission to save the world from an atomic Third Reich, but they spent their days peeling potatoes. Eventually, Pash dreamed up an elaborate scheme called Operation Shark to make contact with the Axis physicists in Rome. It involved landing undercover agents on the coast of Italy in submarines and more or less kidnapping the scientists. It was a logistical challenge, and it took him several months to put it together. And then, right on the eve of the mission, everything fell apart. In order to send someone behind enemy lines, Pash had called on the supposed experts, the Office of Strategic Services, the CIA of its time. They put Pash in touch with an agent named Morris, who would help Pash's team infiltrate Rome. Unfortunately, the OSS hadn't done its homework, and Morris turned out to be a double agent.

He'd been feeding information about different Allied operations to the Nazis for months. In late May 1944, U.S. military police raided Morris' apartment in Naples and found classified documents related to Operation Shark, including the names of people involved and a timeline for the mission. After that, Operation Shark was dead. Most of the fault for this fiasco rested with the OSS, but Pash ended up being the scapegoat and looking foolish. Most frustrating of all, after months of work, Pash had learned nothing about the Nazi atomic bomb. Eventually, Pash and his brigade did reach Rome when the city fell in June,

and they succeeded in contacting several Italian scientists. But it was actually the ex-Red Sox catcher, Moe Berg, working for the OSS, who interrogated and charmed information out of them, either by quoting Italian poets or stealing postcards off their desks. Overall, Alsace's contribution in Italy was meager, and even worse for Pash's reputation, his entire scientific team soon quit, convinced that Alsace was a waste of time and resources. Pash's enemies in Washington agreed, and they saw the lackluster results in Italy as an opportunity to humiliate him. At meetings in Washington, they began harping on the Bassard Brigade's shortcomings and demanding that Pash take the fall.

Pash had to fly back to Washington to plead his case. It took some begging, as well as the intervention of General Groves, but the powers that be in Washington eventually gave Alsace one more chance to prove its worth with a mission in France. But with all the scientists having quit, Alsace needed more chance to prove its worth with a mission in France. But with all the scientists having quit, Alsace needed a new scientific chief. The person Grove settled on was Samuel Goudschmidt, a Dutch-born American physicist. Goudschmidt had gotten in trouble early in the war for his involvement in the drunken plot to kidnap Werner Heisenberg. He'd mentioned the secret British

code word tube alloys in a letter and as a result had been interrogated severely by American intelligence officials. Goudschmidt certainly wasn't Pash's first choice. He was a professor, and ever since Pash's run-in with Robert Oppenheimer, Pash viewed academics as radicals. He called them longhairs, considering them soft, and doubted that Goudschmidt could hold up amid the dangers of the front lines. And frankly, Goudschmidt agreed. He wasn't sure he'd hold up either. He was meek and mild by nature and terrified at the prospect of joining the war in Europe and getting shot. But he did join on,

for a few reasons. Goudschmidt was Jewish and had been born in Holland, where his parents had been rounded up and shipped to a concentration camp. He wanted to fight the Nazis more directly than he could at home in the United States, and he also knew Werner Heisenberg personally from his days in Holland, and was determined to stop his former friend. Finally, Goudsmit also had something to prove to himself. He was a good scientist, but not a great one, certainly not in Heisenberg's class. Most of his peers in the academic atomic physics community had been recruited to work on the Manhattan Project, but he'd been left out. Alsace was his chance to do his part.

And however skeptical Pash and others were of Goudsmit's abilities, he was the best option available, and they had to get on with the mission. Goudsmit and Pash made plans to rendezvous in northern France in the late summer. With his scientific chief in place, Pash turned plans to rendezvous in northern France in the late summer. With his scientific chief in place, Pash turned his attention toward planning his new mission. By August 1944, the Allies were on the brink of liberating Paris, which the Nazis had conquered a few years earlier.

Retaking Paris would be a huge psychological boost for the Allies, and the entire world was watching. But atomic scientists sensed danger lurking in the French capital. There were several world-class nuclear physicists in Paris then, including Frédéric Joliot-Curie, the scientist whose work on artificial radioactivity had paved the way for the chain reactions that might make a bomb. Frédéric's wife, Irène, had already fled Paris by then with their two children, but he had continued to do research in Paris during the war, albeit under difficult circumstances. Nazi scientists had taken over his lab and commandeered his most important equipment for their own work, even stamping swastikas onto the machines. And if Paris was liberated, Manhattan Project scientists feared

that the Germans would kidnap Joliot-Curie, whisk him away to Berlin, and force him to work on their atomic bomb project. The thought of Joliot-Curie and Werner Heisenberg teaming up was too terrifying to contemplate. So Washington gave Pash an ultimatum. When the Allies retake Paris, he had to get his hands on Joliot-Curie or else. Pash knew how high the stakes were for Alsace in his career. As he wrote to a friend, if we miss the boat again in Paris, I'll shoot myself or go over to the Germans. Pash traveled to France in late summer and, among other work, began studying maps and drawing up plans to infiltrate Paris. All the top military experts assured him that Paris would fall in

September, so he had to be ready by then. But the military experts were wrong. Paris began falling to the Allies in late August, weeks before Pash expected. His scientific chief, Samuel Goldschmidt, hadn't even arrived in France yet. But with his entire mission at stake, Pash had no choice but to infiltrate Paris on his own and improvise. I'm Tristan Redmond, and as a journalist, I've never believed in ghosts. But when I discovered that my wife's great-grandmother was murdered in the house next door to where I grew up, I started wondering about the inexplicable things that happened in my childhood bedroom. When I tried to find out more, I discovered that someone who slept in my room after me, someone I'd never met, was visited by the ghost of a faceless woman.

So I started digging into the murder in my wife's family, and I unearthed family secrets nobody could have imagined. Ghost Story won Best Documentary Podcast at the 2024 Ambies and is a Best True Crime nominee at the British Podcast Awards 2024. Ghost Story is now the first ever Apple Podcast Series Essential. Each month, Apple Podcast editors spotlight one series that has captivated listeners with masterful storytelling, creative excellence, and a unique creative voice and vision. To recognize Ghost Story being chosen as the first series essential, Wondery has made it ad-free for a limited time, only on Apple Podcasts. If you haven't listened yet, head over to Apple Podcasts to hear for yourself.

In a quiet suburb, a community is shattered by the death of a beloved wife and mother. But this tragic loss of life quickly turns into something even darker. Her husband had tried to hire a hitman on the dark web to kill her. And she wasn't the only target. Because buried in the depths of the internet is The Kill List, a cache of chilling documents containing names, photos, addresses, and specific instructions for people's murders. This podcast is the true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those who lives were in

danger. And it turns out convincing a total stranger someone wants them dead is not easy. Follow Kill List on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C True Crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery+. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your true-form listening. Imagine you're an American soldier in France. It's August 1944, a few months after D-Day, and you're bored stiff. You join the army for adventure and excitement, but when they found out you speak

French and German, you got stuck at a desk translating secret technical documents. You haven't even heard gunfire yet, much less got in on some action. Your one solace is that you found a companion. It's a little puppy that was wandering around the base, a tiny black and white thing. He's been sleeping in your bunk and eating your scraps after meals. Whenever you feel like you're going cross-eyed at your desk, you grab him and take a walk. And on this morning's walk, something exciting happens at last. Your outside base headquarters, when a jeep screeches to a halt, a colonel at the wheel leans toward a soldier in the passenger seat. Grab some apps at Paris. Don't let anyone see you. The soldier nods and heads off.

And when you see the colonel's name tag stitched to his uniform, something clicks. Sir, are you Colonel Boris Pash? The colonel turns quickly, looks you up and down. Who's asking, soldier? Uh, I think I've been translating some documents for you about Nazi scientists. They're building some sort of super weapon. That's you, sir, right? It might be. Why are you going to Paris, sir? I didn't think anyone was allowed in now. You know, Lieutenant, you're awful nosy. Do you think your superior officer would appreciate you talking about top-secret documents out here in the open? Sorry, sir, I... Well, truth is, sir, I'm bored, sir. All I do is translate documents is, sir, I'm bored, sir.

All I do is translate documents. I feel like I'm in school again. What would you rather be doing? I'd like to get to the front, sir, and knock some Nazis in the teeth. Lieutenant, lots of people say that. Well, I mean it, sir. Do you speak anything besides German? I speak French.

Well, we could use that in Paris. Any interest in coming along? Are you serious, sir? We're down one man, and I like the cut of your jib. Most desk jockeys run from danger. Well, sir, I can't just go AWOL, though, sir. I'll make a call. You'll be fine. At that moment, the soldier returns with the maps and hops in the jeep. Well, sure, yes. Just let me grab some clothes. No time. You're in or you're out. I don't even have a toothbrush, sir. Neither do I.

But I have orders. We're getting into Paris by tomorrow. Well, well, what about my dog, sir? Bring him along. We could use a mascot. Come here, boy. To your surprise, the puppy hops right into Patch's lap. Does he have a name, Lieutenant?

I've been calling him Duke. Well, he's called Alsace now. In or out, Lieutenant. I need your decision. I'm in, sir. And before you quite know what's happening, you're in a jeep with your dog and Colonel Pash, the base disappearing behind you,

and the road to Paris opening up ahead. Pash's approach to missions was always the same. Quick action, no hesitation, and maximum speed. Often it got him into trouble, but during the liberation of Paris, his hard-charging style paid off brilliantly. Pash's team consisted of only four people. Beside Pash and the language expert, one was an attorney from Oklahoma City and the other a real estate agent from Illinois. They traveled in two Jeeps, and between them, they had little more than their guns, canteens, and a puppy. The quartet approached Paris from the south. They tried being discreet, but the raucous response they received from locals made that impossible.

They were the first Allied troops that many French people had seen in years, and in every village they entered, people waved red, white, and blue cloths to cheer them. They could barely get through the crowds in some towns, where men tossed bottles of wine to them and women leapt onto the running boards to kiss their cheeks. But the trip did have its dangers. Several thousand Nazi soldiers were roaming the countryside around Paris, and even more were still within the city. Reaching Joliot-Curie's lab would not be easy. But strangely, though, the most immediate threat to Pash's mission wasn't the Germans,

but the French army. France had had a humiliating war thus far, having been overrun by the Germans in a matter of weeks. French generals were desperate to redeem themselves, and in meetings with Allied commanders, overrun by the Germans in a matter of weeks. French generals were desperate to redeem themselves, and in meetings with Allied commanders, they insisted that the French army enter Paris first as its liberators. But the French army was still gun-shy, and so even while brave French civilians were fighting the Nazis in the streets of Paris, French troops dithered in the countryside. Boris Pash, though, couldn't afford to dither. Failure to apprehend Joliot-Curie could mean the end of Alsace,

so when Pash ran into a French barricade a few miles outside of Paris and found the road closed to him, he resorted to duplicity. He and a subordinate located the officer in charge, a mustached French major, and pulled him aside. The Americans then confided some grave news. Some rogue American tanks, they claimed, were making a dash for Paris to steal the glory of being the first to enter the city. Pash said he had orders to stop the tanks,

but if the monsieur insisted on blocking his path, the French major panicked, insisting, no, you have to stop them. He ordered the barricade to be taken down and bid Pash bonne chance. As they entered the suburbs of Paris, the Alsace Quartet saw thick smoke hanging in the sky and obscuring the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Their jeeps also came under fire several times. But despite the periodic gunfire, the French people

continued to cheer the Americans. In fact, the city folk were even more thrilled than their counterparts in the country. They threw so many flowers at their vehicles, Pash recalled, that his jeep resembled the prize floats in the Pasadena Rose Bowl parade. At one point, Alsace the dog leapt onto the hood and barked in joy. After navigating the suburbs, the group arrived at the entrance to Paris proper at 9 a.m., near a square lined with balconies and cafes. The roar that accompanied the sight of them, the very first Allied troops to reach Paris, was so loud they couldn't hear each other talk. When the roar subsided, an American pilot who'd been shot down over France ran up. He informed them that the

Nazi tanks were still stalking the Luxembourg Gardens near Joliot-Curie's lab. They could, in fact, hear tank fire in the distance. Pash now had a decision to make. Counting himself, he had four men and a few guns, no match for tanks. He also suspected that the Allied command would crucify him if he cut in line and beat the French into Paris, so he knew he should hang back. But on the other hand, he had a mission. Pash gave orders to roll out, and as the jeeps took off, a mob of ecstatic Parisians ran up to join them, cheering and waving rifles in the air. But it was a short-lived adventure. A few blocks on, snipers began shooting at them, and although Pash's ragtag crew tried to fight

their way past, they just simply couldn't risk it. As much as he hated to, Pash retreated to wait for reinforcements. He didn't have to wait long, because the mustache French major back at the roadblock had realized he'd been duped and informed his superiors. The French were furious that they weren't the first entering Paris, so the French commanders had no choice but to start marching into the city or risk losing the glory. In a very real way, Pash's trick helped spur the liberation of Paris. Pash could hear the French coming. The cheers were deafening, almost physical in their force. French tanks started rolling through a few minutes later, and Pash let three pass him by

before slipping his jeep in behind. His crew stuck close to the tanks for several hours, letting them clear out the opposition. But as soon as they spotted an opening, the Alsace Quartet peeled off and began weaving toward Julio Curie's lab. Four separate times, snipers on nearby rooftops opened fire, repulsing Pash's advance. At one point, Pash and his men had to abandon their jeeps altogether and hide in doorways and behind trees. But some brave French militiamen ran up to help, and with Pash and his men directing a counterattack, they fought their way ahead street by street.

Finally, at 4.30 p.m., they reached the courtyard of Frédéric Joliot-Curie's lab. Far from celebrating, however, they took a careful look around. Perhaps the Germans were waiting, in ambush. Maybe they had dodged all that rifle and tank fire just to get killed here. And sure enough, someone opened fire on them as soon as they dismounted. But it was just a few shots from a church belfry, and Pash's crew fired back and chased the shooter away. After that, the neighborhood fell silent.

A few moments later, an assistant of Joliot-Curie's poked his head out the front door and descended the steps to meet them. Not quite believing his luck yet, Pash made his way inside to Joliot-Curie's office. There, the great scientist stood up, shook his hand, and told Pash, I'm afraid for my life. I shall be grateful if you can give me protection. And with that one handshake, Allsauce had snagged one of the top nuclear physicists in the world. Pash and his men were overjoyed. They finally had a triumph to show everyone back in Washington.

The mission would continue. Even more important, Pash's team now had access to reams and reams of secret technical documents. The German scientists who'd been working in Giulio Curi's lab had all fled and left much of their research behind. Nazi mining and chemical firms with branches in Paris had also abandoned their offices, a potential intelligence gold mine. Alsace could finally make some real headway on the Nazi atomic bomb. Still, Pasch knew he couldn't comb through all

those documents alone. They were too technical for him. For that, he'd need the help of his scientific chief, Samuel Goudschmidt, back in London. Unfortunately, Pash still wasn't sure he could trust the man. But Pash's complaints about Goudschmidt could wait. After a hectic, dangerous run through Paris, they'd secured Joliot-Curie. It was now time to celebrate. Joliot-Curie was no less ecstatic

and proposed holding a feast right there in his lab. He even generously turned his chemistry bench into a kitchen, allowing people to cook food over Bunsen burners and drink champagne from beakers until the wee hours of the morning. The weather the next day turned out to be glorious. Pash would later recall the golden red leaves on the trees and the aroma of roasting chestnuts. Cafes were blasting the American dance music forbidden during the Nazi occupation. The Alsace crew got so swept up in the excitement that they partied through a second night. Pash later admitted that when he finally reported to the new army headquarters in Paris two days after arrival, he was still pretty befogged.

But the message waiting for him at headquarters sobered him right up. It was, he said, a shock more disturbing than a bomb blast. He'd been given new orders, orders to stop hunting foreign scientists and to arrest his own scientific chief instead. Samuel Goudschmidt, who had always appeared so meek and mild, was suddenly Pash's new target. Next on American History Tellers, the Alsace mission pushes further into Nazi Europe, seizing stores of Nazi uranium and building to a final showdown to grab Werner Heisenberg and confront, at last, the German atomic weapons program. From Wondery, this is American History Tellers.

If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. This episode is written by Sam Keen, based on his book, The Bastard Brigade, edited by Dorian Marina, edited and produced by Jenny Lauer Beckman. Our executive producer is Marshall Louis, created by Hernán López for Wondery. In November 1991, media tycoon Robert Maxwell mysteriously vanished from his luxury yacht in the Canary Islands.

But it wasn't just his body that would come to the surface in the days that followed. It soon emerged that Robert's business was on the brink of collapse, and behind his facade of wealth and success was a litany of bad investments, mounting debt, and multi-million dollar fraud. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show Business Movers. We tell the true stories of business leaders who risked it all, the critical moments that define their journey, and the ideas that transform the way we live our lives. In our latest series, a young refugee fleeing the Nazis arrives in Britain determined to make something of his life. Taking the name Robert Maxwell, he builds a publishing and

newspaper empire that spans the globe. But ambition eventually curdles into desperation, Take a look.