Vince Houghton - Nuking the Moon - And Other Intelligence Schemes and Military Plots Left on the Drawing Board

At a different point in the speech, he was more succinct: “When you strike at the morale of a people or an army you strike at the deciding factor, because it is the strength of their will that determines the length of wars, the measure of resistance, and the day of final collapse.”

In the war against the Germans, Donovan and the OSS Morale Branch put this concept into play, deploying tactics aimed at sowing fear and distrust among the Nazi soldiers. They tried to undermine the German soldiers’ will to resist, to inspire feelings of war weariness and convince them of the futility of continuing their struggle against impossible odds. Part of this effort consisted of a dedicated propaganda campaign, in which demoralizing leaflets or flyers were dropped over enemy positions. Some of them showed German soldiers who had died in horrible ways, with captions like “His children will miss him” or “More than he bargained for.” Others had graphics of seriously wounded or maimed German troops, and the captions “An Iron Cross and a wooden crutch” or “He never saw the fatherland again” (to accompany a blinded soldier). The OSS supplemented these by sending falsified death notices to the families of deceased German soldiers. Some of them said that their sons/husbands/fathers had been killed at the hands of a German doctor, while other claimed that Nazi Party officials had looted the bodies as their loved ones took their last breaths.

But the one that really sets the standard for devious propaganda was a campaign known as the “League of Lonely War Women.” Developed by the only woman on the propaganda staff of OSS’s Morale Branch, Corporal Barbara Lauwers, the League of Lonely War Women was a stroke of absolute genius. Here’s how it went down: Leaflets were dispersed among the German troops, seemingly the product of German leadership. The text held an alluring promise. If a soldier cut out the heart at the bottom of the page and wore it on his lapel while home for some rest and recuperation, a local “member” of the League of Lonely War Women would approach him and offer some… companionship. According to the leaflet, “The dreams you had at the front, and the longings of your lonely nights, will be fulfilled.” The problem, of course, is that the only women back in the rear—and the only women who could be “members” of the league—were the girlfriends and wives (and maybe daughters) of fellow soldiers on the battlefield. This wasn’t spelled out explicitly, but the German soldier wasn’t stupid. They knew what it meant. Ouch.

But we began this story in the Pacific, and that’s where we now return. OSS PsyOps in the war against the Japanese mirrored those against the Germans in Europe. There was propaganda. There was disinformation and deception. There was a general messing with the minds of America’s adversaries. And then there was almost the operation known as Project Fantasia—one of the most extraordinary attempts to use the human psyche against an opponent in battle. It taps into deep-seated fears and religious beliefs and superstitions, and demonstrates (not for the first or last time) the breadth of the racism, ethnocentrism, and general disregard of Japanese culture held by many, if not most, of the top American military, intelligence, and political leadership. It might have been one of the most ridiculous examples of America’s perceived sense of cultural superiority. It might have been one of the most embarrassing operations of World War II. Thankfully, we never got the chance to find out.

Phew.

Project Fantasiawas the brainchild of a man named Edgar Salinger, who by all accounts seemed to be a pretty decent guy. He started his career in the import-export business in Tokyo in the years leading up to World War I, and then served in the Wilson administration as a member of the U.S. Tariff Commission. After World War II, he worked to help refugees of the war, and was active in the relief and rehabilitation of displaced persons. He was a sophisticated man of the arts, an accomplished cellist who spent his later years collecting American and antique Asian art while directing the Art Center in Dorset, Vermont. His nephew was John F. Kennedy’s press secretary, Pierre Salinger.

His 1971 New York Times obituary lists all of these, and mentions his time serving in the OSS psychological warfare division—but doesn’t mention Fantasia. That’s not at all surprising, really. These kinds of operations were closely guarded when they actually happened . Fortunately for Salinger’s reputation, Fantasia was scrapped before it had a chance to do lasting damage.

To understand Fantasia, we have to take a step further back. Way back, to the sixth century, when the religion of Shintoism was first founded in Japan (or seventh, or eighth—depending on what source you check, and how you define the “beginning”). Shinto (literally translated as “the way of the gods”) is deeply rooted in Japanese traditions. In fact, from 1868 to 1945, it was the official state religion of Japan, and Shinto priests became state officials, religious buildings/shrines received governmental support, and the religion was used to create a national identity (read: extreme nationalism) under the guidance of the emperor, who was considered a Shinto deity in human form. The tight-knit relationship between Shinto and the Japanese state ended with the defeat of the empire at the end of World War II, but the cultural influence of many aspects of Shintoism continues today. Many people in modern Japan who don’t formally identify themselves as Shintoists still participate in some Shinto-based practices or rituals.

If you have been to Japan, it’s probable that you’ve seen statues of foxes at Shinto shrines. Foxes, or kitsune, are common in Japanese folklore and religion, and are often depicted as intelligent and spiritual beings who possess magical abilities. Some kitsune are good, and can bring tidings of good fortune, like omens of a bountiful rice crop. Many, however, are not. They can be mischievous, or even downright evil. They are polymorphs (shape-shifters) and will often take human form. They can also possess humans and force them to hallucinate and do unusual or unspeakable things (like kill, froth at the mouth, or run naked through the streets). Sometimes they even have the power to feed on the life or spirit of a human—think little furry vampires.

Where the Japanese people saw kitsune as part of a unifying force, bridging socioeconomic and cultural barriers to forge a national identity of inclusivity and patriotism, Edgar Salinger and the OSS saw opportunity. One of the most effective ways to demoralize the enemy is to prey on their superstitions, and Project Fantasia called for exactly that.

The initial plancalled for balloons. Lots of balloons.

Beginning in late 1943, the OSS experimented with fox-shaped balloons covered in luminous paint that would be lofted on the end of fishing line. These glow-in-the-dark foxes would pop up over the battlefield and terrify Japanese military observers, who would pass along the sinister omen to the rest of their comrades.

At the same time, sleeper agents in town would blow on whistles that simulated what the documents called a foxlike “cry of the damned.” These same agents would walk through the streets acting as though they were possessed by evil fox-spirits. There’s no indication in the record how (or when) the agents would be infiltrated into Japanese cities—or if they were already there (a very interesting component of the story that remains unclear). Nonetheless, the combination of balloons, whistles, and pretend-possessed would really tie the operation together.