My Dad Was a Spy in World War II
Oct. 16th, 2003 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalOr at least that's what I always got to say when we did the "Where does your Dad Work?" thing in elementary school. Hey, it was the 70's, working moms were still in the minority.
You see, he worked for the FCC back in the early 1940's, operating out of a huge detection complex in the midwest that searched for illegal radio transmitters. When America got into the war, my dad was drafted and sent to train with the 66th Infantry Division. After he completed training, his radio background was noticed by the higher ups, and he was snatched up by the OSS and sent for further training. From there, he was assigned to a post on the island of Corsica, transcribing the radio messages sent from spies and observers on the island of Malta, which occupied by the Germans.
Compared to many of his peers involved in the war, it was a pretty cushy assignment. His quarters were in a commandeered hotel, next to another room with the radio equipment. Occasionally the Germans would bomb the Corsican harbor, but they never came close to where my dad was. He never met Mati Hari, nor came closer than a hundred miles to Nazi occupied territory, but he *was* in the OSS, so I always got to say that he was a spy.
Things like that are cool when you're eight years old.
You see, he worked for the FCC back in the early 1940's, operating out of a huge detection complex in the midwest that searched for illegal radio transmitters. When America got into the war, my dad was drafted and sent to train with the 66th Infantry Division. After he completed training, his radio background was noticed by the higher ups, and he was snatched up by the OSS and sent for further training. From there, he was assigned to a post on the island of Corsica, transcribing the radio messages sent from spies and observers on the island of Malta, which occupied by the Germans.
Compared to many of his peers involved in the war, it was a pretty cushy assignment. His quarters were in a commandeered hotel, next to another room with the radio equipment. Occasionally the Germans would bomb the Corsican harbor, but they never came close to where my dad was. He never met Mati Hari, nor came closer than a hundred miles to Nazi occupied territory, but he *was* in the OSS, so I always got to say that he was a spy.
Things like that are cool when you're eight years old.
