Gertrude Sanford Legendre Never A Loose Cannon

By

J. Thomas Peterson

Gertrude "Gertie" Ellen du Puy Sanford Legendre was born into wealth on 29 March 1902, her father being the New York congressman and carpet manufacturer, John Sanford. Her mother was the daughter of a famous diplomat and businessman who founded the town of Sanford, Florida. The youngest of three children, Legendre excelled at school, graduating from the Foxcroft School in Middleburg, Virginia, where girls were made to sleep on screen porches through the winter, physical education included riding to hounds, and they learned to have an aggressive sense of, at once, entitlement and self-reliance. Her status as a southern socialite was undeniable. A close family friend was the Philadelphia playwright Philip Barry, whose play Holiday (which would later become the 1938 movie with Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant) is rumored to be based on Legendre and her siblings. Glimpsed in society columns and photographed in Paris, she enjoyed a charmed life on the French Riviera, along with other glamorous young expats, such as F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway.

“Try and stop me someone. Oh, please, someone try and stop me!” says Hepburn, the main character of Holiday who embraces a life of privileged risk and thrills with a man who shares her desires.

But from a very early age, Legendre wanted adventure more than anything. In fact as her graduation present from Foxcroft she requested, and received, an elk hunting expedition in the Grand Tetons of Wyoming. Over the next few years, Legendre went on expeditions in North America, South America, Africa, and Europe to collect specimens for multiple museums in the United States. When she wasn’t hunting she was partying with the most famous party animals of the Roaring Twenties on the French Riviera. At twenty six, she organized an expedition to Abyssinia, modern day Ethiopia, on behalf of the American Museum of Natural History. It was on this expedition that her husband to be, Sidney Legendre – a fellow adventure enthusiast, proposed. When they wed, they became one of the world's wealthiest couples. As a couple, they continued to collect museum specimens around the world, including expeditions to French Indochina (Vietnam), Persia (Iran), and South West Africa (Namibia). Even today, most large game animals displays in museums around the world were procured by the Legendres. Together they purchased a plantation outside of Charleston, South Carolina, they named Medway. Their primary crop was pine timber.

Gertrude and Sidney were nearly inseparable once married. WWII changed that.

Sidney was Legendre's one true love, and she, his. Although they shared many common interests beyond adventure, their greatest interests were each other, even to the detriment of their daughters, Landine and Bokara, who both lamented that they ever felt much parental affection. At the outbreak of World War II, in January 1942, Sidney enlisted in the Navy and was commissioned a Lieutenant and Legendre volunteered for the Red Cross. Within the year, Sidney would be deployed to the Pacific Theater, being posted at Pearl Harbor. After 500 acres of the plantation was claimed by the War Department for an ammunition dump, Legendre closed down Medway for the duration of the war and moved the household to Washington D.C. She used her connections to gain a position at OSS headquarters in Washington D.C. where she was assigned – much to her disappointment – to the Cable Desk. Legendre was fluent in French, having spoken it since birth with her mother. She had perfected her accent and vocabulary vacationing on the Cote de Azur and used it extensively during her big game hunting adventures. For that reason alone, not to mention her abilities in German and Italian, expertise with weapons, and detailed knowledge of Europe and Asia, she believed she was best suited for work as a field agent. However the OSS judged her age, she was by then 40, and her status as a highly visible socialite to be too high risk. At the Cable Desk, she lamented that her work consisted of "remote control" classification stamping and routing. But, what she loved about the job was knowing what was happening. She read as many cables as possible while assigning classification and therefore was knowledgeable of global OSS operations. One other bright spot was her friendship with the head of Secret Intelligence Branch, Colonel David Bruce, an attorney who was married to the daughter of Andrew Mellon. When Bruce was reassigned to London to head up the new office there, he asked Legendre to go with him. Legendre made arrangements for the children to go with their governess, first to Rhode Island, and then to New Orleans where they would live with their aunt, Sidney's sister. On August 16, 1943, she set sail to Portugal, and from there took a blacked out PBY flying boat to England. Once in London, the "remote control" existence of running the Cable Desk returned. At least she was able to use her affluence to entertain dignitaries and high ranking officers. Among the guests at her dinner parties was Major General George Patton, an acquaintance that would later pique the Gestapo's curiosity. News of the July 20, assassination attempt on Hitler was cause for celebration. Legendre hosted an evening garden party at her home in London on August 23, 1944. The "Retread Reunion" honored twenty-eight American men who had been pilots in The Great War, but who were now serving in some capacity in London. Among her guests were U.S. Ambassador to England John Winant, General Carl "Tooey" Spaatz, Commander of the Strategic Air Forces in Europe, and the Commander of the OSS, General William Donovan. At one point during the evening, a Nazi V-1 flew overhead and detonated not far from the celebration. In her memoir The Sands Ceased To Run, Legendre recalled "To think that one buzz bomb could have destroyed most of the American high command!" Following the liberation of Paris on August 25, 1944, the OSS moved rapidly to establish a new command office on the European continent. Military duties and personnel were transferred to the new European Operations Headquarters. Being civilian and a woman, Legendre felt left out. But in a September 8, letter to Sidney, Legendre wrote that she was "going into uniform and being given the "assimilated rank" of first lieutenant" in preparation for her transfer to the Paris office. She finally saw the opportunity to get closer to the action she so craved. Once in Paris, Legendre found out her office wouldn't be ready for at least another week. She was issued a SHAEF pass for dining hall privileges, but preferred to eat on the economy. She checked in so often to see when her office would be ready that Colonel Bruce finally ordered her to take a week-long pass just to keep her off site. In the meantime, on September 23, she received a letter from Sidney telling her that he would be in New York in early October for a month of training, followed by a month of leave. She wrote back that she would immediately make arrangements to return to New York. Legendre posted the letter as Bob Jennings and she departed Paris for Luxembourg the next morning. An opportunity turned up unexpectedly at the Ritz Hotel bar, where a group of war correspondents were talking about new assignments with Third Army headquarters in Luxembourg. Legendre looked up from the group to see an OSS colleague, navy commander Robert Jennings, just in from London and looking for excitement.

Now named the Bar Hemingway, it has changed little since Legendre and Jennings cooked up their plan.

Legendre knew Jennings from OSS Headquarters in Washington. He was attached to the OSS from the Navy, and much like Legendre, was frustrated that he was stuck behind a desk. When they recognized each other in a bar in the Ritz Hotel that was frequented by war correspondents, including Ernest Hemingway, they both mentioned their desire to get closer to the front, or as Legendre put it, she "wanted to smell the fighting." Jennings told her that he knew of an old Peugeot that could get them to Luxembourg where General Patton's HQ was located – and the place the war correspondents around them were headed to. Legendre was in. That first day they drove through unrelenting rain that drenched the two of them through the car's old canvas roof. To add insult to injury, the car blew a tire on the road that was torn up by the tracks of Patton's advancing Third Army. Together they changed the tire, Legendre in her new WAC uniform and Jennings in his Navy work uniform. They spent the night in Saint-Quentin. The next morning they continued the journey. Soon they were passing ruined buildings and bridge-less river crossings. Forced into using military pontoon bridges and improvised ferries they made poor time. As they got closer to Luxembourg, they had no choice but to make multiple detours to avoid road craters. Outside of Arlon, Belgium, the Peugeot finally gave out, its water pump broken. Legendre and Jennings were able to get a U.S. troop carrier to tow them into town, arriving after night fall. They were able to find two rooms at a small pension for the night. The next morning, they got a tow into Luxemburg for repairs. They were told their car would not be ready until at least the next morning. Their trip was coming to a screeching halt as they would have to begin the journey back to Paris the next day. Legendre and Jennings checked into the Brasseur Hotel for the night. The next morning over breakfast, as they were lamenting their bad luck in getting to the front, Jennings recognized an Army officer he met at OSS HQ a couple of years earlier. It was Major Maxwell Papurt. Papurt was the OSS European X-2 coordinator. Formed in 1943, X-2 was responsible for identifying and neutralizing German intelligence activity abroad. X-2 was responsible for penetrating the German military intelligence service, Abwehr, using double agents. From 1944 to 1945, X-2 officers accompanied Allied invasion forces in France and Italy to recruit German “stay-behind” agents in Allied-controlled areas. X-2’s double agents— referred to as Controlled Enemy Agents (CEAs), or Wireless Telegraphy (W/T) or radio agents—operated from behind Allied lines and transmitted false reports to the Abwehr via radio. Papurt had detailed knowledge of these operations, including assets, code names, and the information being transmitted. Jennings introduced Legendre and together they told Papurt their tale of woe. When he heard that Legendre wanted to "smell the fighting" he told them he had a jeep and driver and could take them to Wallendorf, the first town captured by the Americans after they crossed the Sauer River. It was close enough that they would be back in time for them to get their car and begin the journey back to Paris. Legendre and Jennings thought it was a great offer. The three of them went outside and hopped in the jeep. Private First Class Doyle Dickson, "Dick" was their driver. First they stopped at Papurt's office where he double checked the situation maps to ensure Wallendorf was still in Allied hands. When he returned, they headed east to the front.

A portion of the battle map that undoubtedly led Papurt to believe Wallendorf was firmly in V Corps hands.

Soon they were passing the carnage of recent battle. Burned out German vehicles on the side of the road, dead, swollen cattle, and houses in ruins and still smoldering. Just before crossing the border, they stopped and asked a farmer for directions. Wallendorf was just over a mile away. Even still, they couldn't hear any gun or artillery fire. They followed the road into a shallow valley that was still tranquil and neat. In the distance they could see Wallendorf on a hillside across the river. As they got closer, they could see the houses no longer had roofs, and more damage was visible. Dick slowed the jeep near a signpost for Wallendorf. Then a bullet pierced a front fender. As the jeep stopped, Papurt leapt out, grabbed his rifle, yelled "Sniper! He's mine!" and dove for cover behind a hedge. He low crawled forward, using the hedge for concealment, searching for the sniper in the direction from which the shot had come. Curiously, the other three stayed in the jeep, watching as Papurt crawled forward. Finally convinced that it was a random shot not intended for the party and satisfied that there was no real danger, Papurt got back into the jeep. Then a machine gun strafed the vehicle. This time, everyone dove to the ground and sought cover behind the jeep. Legendre crouched behind the front wheel, Jennings took cover behind the back wheel and Dick was next to the driver's seat. Papurt lay in the road beside a ditch. He was hit in both legs. Papurt ordered Dick to turn the jeep around. He climbed back into the driver's seat as another burst of machine gun fire struck the jeep. Then Dick cried out and collapsed in a heap, shot in both legs and through the hand. Jennings raced around the jeep, dragged him out of the vehicle, and pulled him behind it, out of the line of fire. In front, the road was open. On either side wide meadows wouldn't provide protection from which they could launch a counter assault. They were trapped. Legendre crawled to Dick's side to administer first aid. A bullet hit the front axle and ricocheted into the crankcase, spraying her face with oil. Jennings pressed a pistol into Legendre's hand and told her to cover him. Legendre's experience as a big game hunter was put to the test. She fired. Jennings suddenly sprinted from behind the jeep, grasped Papurt under his armpits and dragged him to cover. Unfortunately, Papurt's rifle was still in the road. Jennings made another run and collected it. Dick was bleeding profusely and his lips were turning blue. Papurt wasn't in much better shape. Another burst of machine gunfire, this time mixed with rifle fire; they were pinned down with only one rifle. The situation was hopeless. Jennings pulled a white hand• kerchief from his pocket and tied it to the end of Papurt's rifle. He hoisted the handkerchief high above the jeep and the gunfire ceased. They quickly had to coordinate their cover stories. Papurt was an ordnance officer, Jennings a naval observer, and Legendre a file clerk at the American embassy, serving as an interpreter for Jennings. Dick was the only one who could legitimately stick to his role. Legendre hastily collected their OSS identification, their passes, including her own blue SHAEF pass, and some other incriminating OSS documents. As the Germans approached to take them captive, she dug a hole and burned the papers, then covered the ashes with mud and dirt. Unfortunately in his wounded state, Papurt failed to give her one document that revealed his intelligence connection. It was this paper that later almost cost Jennings and Legendre their lives. The Germans came forward in a pincer movement and took the rifle and their handguns. Then Legendre opened a first aid pouch and sprinkled sulfur powder on Papurt's and Dick's open wounds. By that time, Dick was shivering and in shock.

Wallendorf, September 1944

The German squad leader sent one of his men back to Wallendorf for a stretcher. He soon returned with another soldier and a box spring that would serve as an improvised litter for Papurt. The Germans and Americans together carried the wounded man across a small stream and through a farm to what was left of Wallendorf. Then returned for Dick and took him there, too. In her debriefing, Legendre mentions that she briefly thought of the possibility of escape, but was stopped by a soldier who pointed to the hill, and said in German, that she would be shot if she tried. At last they knew the location of the sniper. The the rest of the afternoon was punctuated with scattered gunfire and the far off sounds of exploding artillery. When evening came, Legendre and Jennings were marched up the hill above Wallendorf next to a horse and wagon carrying Papurt and Dick. In a small bunker, a young German lieutenant was the interrogator. She easily could have been his mother. Legendre said she didn't speak German, but did speak French. The Germans brought a soldier in who acted as the interpreter, translating each question into halting French. The first question the Lieutenant asked was, "When will the war end?" Then he asked what a naval officer and a woman were doing on the front line. Legendre gave simple, short answers. Around them, the battle continued to be waged. Artillery fire from over the hill from town screamed overhead, occasionally hitting open land and throwing dust and dirt into the air. American planes circled, providing ground support. Legendre asked what was going to happen to her wounded companions who were shivering outside. The lieutenant told her an ambulance would pick them up the next day. She insisted they be moved inside. The last she saw of Papurt and Dick, they were resting under a bundle of coats and blankets in the cellar of a nearby barn. Papurt was reported killed during the February 22, 1945, air raid by the US Ninth Air Force on Limburg, when the lights of the prison camp were mistaken for the rail yard. Eighty-eight Allied POWs were killed. There are conflicting reports concerning Doyle E. Dickson, at least two indicate that Dickson died from his wounds in late 1944, but in Legendre's journals, memoirs, and debriefing report following her escape, she reports he lived and was eventually liberated. Shortly after midnight Legendre and Jennings arrived in Trier. They were again interrogated, this time in separate rooms. In her memoir she wrote that a "wizened little man with weasel-like eyes" started questioning her in German, with another young soldier translating awkwardly into French. Again, the questions were translated into French for Legendre. And again, she gave short, simple answers. She told the interrogator that she was a civilian employee of the embassy who had been put in a WAC's uniform so that she could eat at the regular mess. She filed requests for typewriters and stationery, and other sorts of office supplies. She was at the front lines, because she had been loaned as an interpreter for the two officers who had business in Luxembourg. They had been misinformed that Wallendorf was in American hands. "Weasel Eyes threw one surprise query towards the end," Legendre wrote. "He asked me whether I was frightened? 'Why should I be frightened?' I replied. 'I understand the Germans treat their prisoners as properly as we do.' " Following this interrogation, they were then driven to some barracks at Wittlich. The garrison commander told the driver they were at the wrong location, his unit did not process POWs. They were each shown to separate empty offices that would serve as their quarters until transportation could be arranged to tale them on to Flamersheim. They were given soup and potatoes and some cigarettes. When asked if there was anything else they needed, Legendre asked for a bath. Surprisingly, she was taken to the men's shower room. Her guard got the water started and left alone to shower. Soon a hundred shower heads gushed not just hot water, but nearly boiling water. Legendre left the shower with soap in her hair and her clothing wet from all the steam.

Legendre's movements through Germany as a prisoner.

That evening they started the trip to an actual prison. Just before leaving the town was bombed by the allies and everyone headed for the cellar. Legendre's first experience in an air raid shelter was unpleasant. She was mildly claustrophobic and the shelter was packed shoulder to shoulder. Occasionally a bomb would land nearby, causing dirt and dust to fall. At the end of the raid Legendre and Jennings were loaded onto the back of a truck where we sat on gasoline tins. Another American, a GI who was separated from his unit, was too tired to stay awake, and had been found asleep in an abandoned pill box, was loaded into the truck with them. At one point during the trip, Jennings and the GI were put in another truck, and Legendre was shoved into the front seat of the truck in which she was riding. Her guard stood on the running board, a look out for enemy planes -- which was the custom as convoys and military vehicles in Germany were the frequent targets of allied strafing. The group arrived in Flamersheim, about 20 kilometers from Bonn, not long after midnight.

Here, for the first time, Legendre was searched. A captain confiscated her Leica camera and light meter, her identification card showing her assimilated rank, her driver's license, and her Red Cross First Aid certificate. He returned her passport, powder and lipstick. The captain then suggested that she pick out a bunk on a double decker bed in a dormitory room full of male soldiers. When she refused, he took her to a prison which had once been used as a Russian peasant camp. She was placed in a small 8 x 10 cell with three wooden bunks and gunny sacks filled with straw for a bed. Just outside, under the double-barred windows, was the open latrine; the stench filled her cell. There were no blankets, but having had no sleep for thirty-six hours, she was soon asleep. The next morning she awoke with red welts across her stomach and under her arms. And she was crawling with fleas. She had no soap, no toothbrush, and no toilet paper. The first morning, she saw Jennings being walked by, but the guard prevented them from speaking as he had not as yet been interrogated. However, Jennings was able to indicate that he was being held in the cell above hers. Later in the day, Jennings found a weak spot in the floor and they were able to pass notes back and forth. His first note listed other American pilots who were with him and it read "You will probably get out of prison before we do so notify families of these pilots that they are o.k." For weeks she carried a long list of names and addresses, thinking she would be liberated. However, once it was apparent that her chance for freedom was becoming more and more remote, she destroyed the list. She protested her treatment – the fleas – and after a few days, one evening she was marched to a nearby villager's cottage where her boots and jacket were taken away. But she was allowed to sleep in a clean bed with sheets. The next morning she was returned to the barracks. Then for a short while, during the day they were locked up in an old barn while the barracks were caulked, window panes were replaced, and sulfur was burned to kill the fleas . Breakfast was five slices of bread with a pat of ersatz butter. The POWs would occasionally get a bloody sausage or some watery potato soup for lunch. Dinner was ersatz coffee. On October 5, the Gestapo arrived to interrogate Legendre and Jennings seperately. Incriminating papers had been found on Papurt; both of them were under suspicion. Legendre told the Gestapo that she had never met Papurt before the morning of September 26, and that all she knew was that he was an ordnance officer.

The Gestapo pressed their interrogation. They asked what SCI stood for. Legendre replied she didn't know all the "funny letters" used by the Government, playing her role as a ditzy socialite hired as a favor to someone. Yet, she knew full well that SCI stood for Special Counter Intelligence, the detachments that operated the double agents.

But then the Gestapo officer accused her of stealing the Leica camera from a German soldier. Legendre purchased the camera in 1936, and was highly offended by the accusation. In fact, she had a receipt for the purchase and used it on several expeditions.

Fortunately for both parties, the interrogation then followed the usual course of questioning.

About this same time, Radio Hamburg broadcast an announcement that the first American woman prisoner, Gertrude Sanford Legendre, had been captured on the Western Front near Wallendorf, forty kilometers from Luxembourg. She was an interpreter for an American naval officer, Robert Jennings. The report also said an American ordnance officer, Maxwell Papurt, and their driver were also captured.

News of their capture went straight to the top echelon. In London, Col. Stewart Menzies, chief of England's Secret Intelligence Service, coordinated with Eisenhower's chief of staff, Brig. Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, and his British deputy, Sir Kenneth W. D. Strong. General Donovan, upon receiving the information, strode up and down in his Washington office in a rage. As reported by his aide, Edwin Putzell, "He was first of all concerned with the capture of Papurt, but he was equally concerned that Legendre might talk. He called her a loose cannon." A top secret OSS memo warned General Eisenhower that this could be “one of the disasters of the war.” When the International News Services picked up the story, it was quickly killed by Allied military censorship.

The first mention in the U.S. press about Legendre being a captive did not come until after her escape.

October 6th Legendre and Jennings were taken in the direction of Wiesbaden. With many roads bombed out, the driver would occasionally stop to ask the way, he whispered so that they would not know where he was going. However at one point a peasant raised his voice and they heard the word "Limburg," the location of Stalag XIIA, one of Germany's largest prison camps, with more than three thousand prisoners including Russian, Italian, Pole, and American prisoners. It was also the camp where Papurt was at the time of his death.

However, they continued through Limburg, eventually following a road that climbed a steep hill to the village of Diez near the Lahn River where they stopped at the gates of a picturesque thirteenth-century castle. They were ushered into the foyer by a Wehrmacht lieutenant, who spoke English, with just a trace of an accent - a New York accent.

Legendre and Jennings were turned over to an interrogator, Lt. William Gosewisch. He told them that all important prisoners were brought to Castle Dietz for interrogation, and Legendre and Jennings would henceforth be his charges, as one German interrogating officer was assigned to each prisoner. They had been assigned to him and from then on, they would be his responsibility no matter where they were detained in Germany. The Lieutenant spoke perfect English, because, as he told them, he had lived in America for eighteen years and had married an American girl. In 1939, while visiting family with his wife and son, he was caught in the compulsory draft into German military service. He had never been allowed to leave. He gave Legendre and Jennings American Red Cross packages and cigarettes. Then he informed them that we were going to be in solitary confinement until he returned from Command Headquarters the following week. He made them promise they would not speak to anyone. For the next few days, the only person they saw was the soldier who brought their meals. Legendre was locked in cell number 38, where she would remain for the next six weeks. Each day, she rehearsed her story, developing more depth until she knew the imaginary office in which she worked, and the fictional coworkers with which it was staffed. She knew this legend must be perfect. At eight-thirty p.m. on the night of October 10th, the Lieutenant returned from Headquarters to question Legendre and Jennings. He started with Legendre. First, he reintroduced himself, this time as Bill. Then he came right to the point and said that Legendre was considered a very dangerous, international spy. He said simply, that if she didn't tell him everything, he would find it out -- that the Germane had a way of making people talk. Legendre said she had nothing to tell, she was simply a file clerk at the American embassy in Paris who had been loaned to the the two officers as an interpreter. Gosewisch continued the questioning for two and half hours. Gosewisch explained that incriminating papers had been found on Papurt, and by association, she was implicated. Again, Legendre denied knowing anything of value. Gosewisch asked her what SCI meant. When she told him she didn't know, he said that the paper they discovered was a list of agents that Papurt was running. Gosewisch handed her a plain, letter size sheet of bond paper that was undated, and at the top it read "SCI Agents." There were approximately fifteen names on the list. Legendre recognized at least one name from messages she reviewed in the cable room. Taking a breath, she said she didn't recognize any of the names, but she was just a file clerk for the embassy. Around midnight, she was told the interrogation would continue the next day. There were some who thought she was actually FBI. That evening, and for the next six consecutive evenings, she was questioned. Gosewisch was initially convinced that Legendre was employed by either Papurt or Jennings, so he offered her money for her information. What he didn't know at the time was that he was attempting to bribe one one the world's wealthiest women. Legendre had to stifle a laugh at the offer. Gosewisch grilled her about Jennings. She said that she had known him socially for some time as he was a friend of her husband's. When asked what Jennings did, she told them that she didn't know. He was new to the embassy, and she had just recently been assigned to him as his interpreter. When asked why a file clerk was assigned to be an interpreter, she told them, truthfully, that her mother, who spent her girlhood in Europe, rarely spoke to her children in English, preferring instead to speak to them in French. When this line of questioning about Papurt and Jennings failed, he began a detailed questioning of who she was, who her family was, where she was born, who she knew, etc. These questions revealed that she truly was a member of the social elite - she knew and socialized with Generals Patton and Spaatz, Ambassador Winant, and several other industrial and political leaders. During this line of questioning she wasn't asked for any military information. Instead, it was to assess her value as, to use a modern term, an influencer. At the same time, Legendre recognized that her knowledge could help her situation, as it could be used as a bargaining chip in trying to affect her release. At the end of the six days' interrogation, Gosewisch told Legendre that he graduated with a B.S. degree in Psychology from Columbia University and that he knew and was convinced that she was telling the truth! He thought it was unfortunate that she had been taken prisoner, but that he would make every effort through influential friends to have me returned. By this time, Legendre and her captor were on a first-name basis. After he had finished work, Gosewisch would take her upstairs to his office. There, over cognac or wine they would chat until to two or three in the morning. He told her that he was an SS officer, and second in command at the castle. He loved his native Germany but was opposed to the war and hoped that democracy would eventually prevail. They talked about the situation inside Germany and Gosewisch said he was convinced the only way that the Nazis could be defeated was by complete destruction by the Americans. But he warned that allied propaganda offered no hope to the German people, who were fighting more to save their own lives than defend their country. He also said the chaos inside the country was bound to lead to communism, and if Germany became communist, Europe would eventually become that way.

He also told Legendre that the Sicherheitsdienst (SD), the SS and Nazi party intelligence service, and the Gestapo were trying to take over her questioning believing her to be a spy; but because she had been taken on the Western Front, she was a prisoner of the Wehrmacht and their responsibility. He said that soon he would be called to serve three weeks at the Front, but that he would keep track of her movements and would help her whenever he could.

A portrait in pencil drawn by a German guard while she was held in Castle Dietz. It was her favorite souvenir from her time as a POW.

October 22, Jennings left for permanent prison camp. Gosewisch allowed him to to say good-bye to Legendre in private. Jennings reported that Gosewisch was convinced that he, too, was telling the truth. And when he couldn't answer questions about the SCI paper, the questions turned to artillery as they thought he had been sent Paris to check the Navy's targeting against German emplacements. Whenever the questions became too technical, Jennings said he replied "I'm am sorry that is a military secret." It was good that the questioning stopped there, because Jennings knew absolutely nothing about Naval ordnance equipment. Jennings also said he had been allowed to talk to the other men in the camp. One had been a Dutch underground resistance worker. When captured, he told the Germans that he was from Pennsylvania and had been caught overseas by the war! Another prisoner was the war correspondent, others were English and some were paratroopers. When Gosewich was called to the front, the Gestapo moved in. Legendre was taken to Frankfurt, then to in Berlin. “We walked through the deserted streets and stopped in front of 8, Prinz Albert Strasse. I knew the address because I had seen it on many OSS reports. It was Gestapo headquarters.” From there she was driven to a building under Himmler’s Central Security Office, which she also knew. It “had a practice of issuing blank murder orders at whim.” However, she wasn't interrogated at either location, instead she was taken to Wansee where she was kept at a private house on the edge of a lake. The house belonged to the International Criminal Police. There were tennis courts, a dock, and a place to go swimming. From upstairs where she was locked in her room each night, Legendre could occasionally see guests stop at the house. Once, a cocktail party attended by about thirty guests was held. What appeared to be Portuguese flags were flown, and several very high ranking German officers attended. Legendre spent the next two months there under constant surveillance by two tough Gestapo women guards, one of whom was described by Legendre as fanatical about Hitler. When that guard told Legendre that because she was something of a prize as the “first American woman to be made a prisoner of war” by the Germans that she might be taken to meet Hitler, she flew into a rage when Legendre said she’d rather not. Eventually they were joined by an interpreter named Ursula. Ursula “was young, impressionable, and interested in the outside world. … I told her that the German people were being told lies and that Jews in Germany were being murdered. At first, she wouldn’t believe me, but, in the end, she believed that I was telling the truth and risked her life many times by standing guard at the head of the kitchen stairway while I frantically tried to tune in the BBC on a radio.” In the first days of January 1945, Legendre was moved to a hotel surrounded by barbed wire in a compound in Godesburg. Arriving at midnight, she asked if there were any other Americans or prisoners there, but simply received the reply "Ich weiss nicht." The next morning when she was told breakfast was in the salon and to get herself there, she was surprised to find that 42 French generals, 75 colonels, seven civilian diplomats and one woman, Mme. Caillau, the sister of Free French leader Charles De Gaulle, were imprisoned with her. These distinguished prisoners, had been there for eight months. Most had been captured during the early days of the war. They maintained their dignity through rigid protocols and strict seating arrangements at meals. They passed their time learning and teaching bookbinding. Legendre compiled a list of the French prisoners, opened the lining of her coat, and sewed it into her sleeve. Among the prisoners, there was a civilian named who turned out to be an OSS agent from Algiers. He had been captured because a "friend of his" had betrayed him. The only reason that he had been so well treated, even though they knew he was OSS, was that the "friend" who had accused him only turned him over with the stipulation that he would be treated civilly. On February 28, as the allies got closer, the entire group of prisoners was moved to the Petershof Hotel overlooking the Rhine from Konigswinter. On March 5, most of the French were marched to Neussdorf. When the Americans crossed the Rhine on March 7, Legendre watched the whole operation. The next morning, she and the remaining French officers were marched to Pleiss and placed on a train for transport to Czechoslovakia. However, the Gestapo came through the trains, searching for Legendre. She was to be taken back to Frankfurt, but by this time it was completely destroyed. Instead, she was taken to the home of German industrialist H.H. Grieme in Kronberg. During her two week stay, the Griemes "hosted" eighteen people in the house, including the head of Deutschbank. “They made me feel welcome and insisted that the guards at the door were unnecessary.” But as Patton’s forces closed in, the family got nervous. Legendre suggested they get in touch with Gosewich. Shortly after, Gosewisch and Colonel Köstner arrived bringing Red Cross packages that Legendre shared with the household. They seemed quite resigned to the defeat of Germany. Legendre asked them what Field Marshall Kesselring was going to do. They said Kesselring was quite disillusioned because he couldn't do anything and that the army was ready to surrender. Two days later Legendre was picked up in a small Opel. The driver, known only as Mr. Gay, said he had orders to take Legendre to the Swiss border. For hours they drove through the ruins of Frankfurt and Ulm to the German-Swiss border at Konstanz. In order to protect the people who were were helping her, she was to say that French forced laborers arranged for her escape. She was to hide in an empty railway car that would be shunted over on the Swiss territory. Once in Switzerland, she was to give herself up as an escapee. At the train yard, Gay ordered her to board the train for Switzerland and to keep out of sight. She hid behind empty seats and at one point she ducked into a toilet to avoid a trainman searching the car. The whole time, a tall stranger in a light overcoat watched her from outside near the rail tracks. Finally the train started to move, inching its way slowly over battered tracks. When it stopped and she moved slowly toward the door, she could see the white gates of the frontier in the bright moonlight. Then the train had stopped a hundred yards short of the Swiss border. Legendre slipped out the train door and moved slowly along an adjacent line of freight cars. The mysterious man in the light topcoat hissed from the shadows, "Run!" and gestured toward the Swiss guard post. Legendre took off in full sprint. A German guard suddenly appeared next to her, sticking his rifle in her ribs. She thought it was part of the plan and kept running. The guard gave chase. Across the border, the Swiss sentries watched the whole show, not believing their eyes. When they realized this crazy woman was going to try to cross the border, they shouted, "Identite! Identite!" while raising the gate. Legendre screamed, "American passport!" as she ran under the lifted barrier. The German border guard was shouting with rage. She crossed the border March 23, 1945, nearly six months to the day after being captured. Once safely inside Switzerland, Legendre was detained by the chief of the Swiss police in Kreuzlingen, Otto Ragganbass. He checked her story and identity and finally notified the American legation in Bern where they had no idea who she was. No one from the embassy in Paris was missing. They told Ragganbass she was lying and to return her to the Germans. Legendre insisted she be taken to the legation. Mrs. Ragganbass convinced her husband to let her drive Legendre to Bern.

There, Legendre had more trouble at the legation than she had had with the Gestapo and the Kreuzlingen police. After being warmly greeted by the staff she was questioned on where she had been employed when captured. Because she could not mention OSS, her Paris-embassy-file-clerk story would not stand up.

It was at this juncture that Tracy Barnes, Allan Dulles's executive officer, showed up. He knew all about Gertrude Legendre and drove her to the OSS office.

After Legendre cleaned up, she was voraciously eating chocolate-covered sponge cake when the door opened and Dulles walked in. He greeted her warmly and said how surprised he was to see her standing before him, safe and in good health. Believing the OSS had a hand in arranging her transport to Konstanz, Legendre began to thank him for getting her safely out of Germany, he shook his head. "OSS did not dare to touch you, nor did the Embassy. You were too hot."

That evening, Legendre was debriefed about her six-month experience as a German prisoner. Dulles and Barnes listened carefully, prompting her and asking leading questions. When she reached the part about prison life on the Rhine with the French prisoners, she whipped out her pocket knife and ripped open the sleeve lining of her overcoat. She produced a crumpled paper with the list of 130 names. The official debriefing, downgraded from Top Secret, has this notation from Dulles:

NOTE FROM 1102

As an amusing sidelight, I call your attention to the contents of the envelope marked "Exhibit A" (which is the original list of French people Gertrude met at Godesburg. Reproduction of the list is attached as "Exhibit B."). Gertrude sewed this document in the lining of her raincoat. She took it out in my house. When I examined it, I found that her host at Kreuzlingen, Mr. Raggenbass, had already examined the document and had typed on a little note in German, which translated reads

"For the information of Mrs. LeGendre."

"So that you may not have a bad impression of the Kreuzlingen police and of the Swiss border control, we wish to inform you that we found the attached list of addresses at the time of your arrest by the Kreuzlingen police. As we ascertained that it was only the question of a service of charity for the benefit of prisoners, we put the document in its hiding place. Have a good trip and great America for us.

Kreuzlingen, 24 March 1945,

Der Bezirksstatthalter

Raggenbass."

Dulles and Barnes made arrangements for Legendre's transportation to Paris and then home. Barnes drove her to Geneva, where army orders were cut for her. She was driven to the French border and down to Lyons to catch the Paris Express arriving in Paris, coincidentally, on her birthday, March 29. She was sternly warned not to speak to the press and not to report to OSS headquarters in Paris.

Meanwhile, cables were sent to Donovan in Washington, to the OSS office in Paris, and to Legendre's husband in Honolulu. Dulles cabled Donovan:

All formalities for G.L.'s leaving Switzerland were handled on basis she was military escapee and turned over to me 27 March. Stayed at my home until departure. Able to minimize any publicity about her escape. I impressed upon her the instructions to give no interviews. Gertrude is rather contrite, I think. She made no effort to make excuses for her escapade. She has obeyed instructions implicitly while she was with us and impressed me as being a person with a great deal of resourcefulness.

General Donovan himself cabled Honolulu: "For Cmdr. Legendre, husband of Gertrude Legendre. She being returned to Washington immediately via Paris. In view lives of other prisoners in danger greatest security must be maintained including her association with this agency and the entire situation of her escape. Your assistance is earnestly requested."

Gertrude Legendre and her husband were reunited in New York City with their two children. Shortly thereafter he was mustered out of the navy, and they returned to Medway Plantation in South Carolina when war ended. On the morning of March 8, 1948, at age forty-seven, Sidney died of a heart attack.

In 1950, Legendre was able to help her the German who became a friend, William Gosewisch. She found him and his family destitute, as were so many in postwar Germany. She was able to get them to South Carolina, where he was given a job working for her new, and soon to be ex-husband. They often met and exchanged reminiscences, and he always sent her red roses on holidays. William Gosewisch died the day before the Berlin Wall came down, a historic incident Legendre knew he would have loved to witness.

The circle was closed; she was having adventures still, living life to the fullest, but perhaps not as dangerously. Legendre became a fixture in Charleston social, philanthropic, and cultural circles. Her New Year’s Eve costume parties at Medway were the hottest ticket in town.

And no wonder, for who but Legendre, to the great surprise of Donovan, had mastered the art of masquerade more fully?

Gertrude Sanford Legendre died March 8, 2000 at Medway and was buried there next to Sidney, the love of her life.