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Operation Fish
448 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 1980
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April 14, 2024
“It was one of Churchill’s most momentous decisions of the war; a desperate gamble which, if it had failed, would have brought about a disaster of such magnitude that Britain would have been forced to sue for peace.”
In late May, when France was teetering on the brink of military defeat, Churchill had called the War Cabinet into secret session to discuss plans for shipping to Canada vast stocks of gold stored in the vaults of the Bank of England in Threadneedle Street.
Even more crucial was the decision to evacuate all the negotiable foreign securities held by private citizens and business organizations, across the U-Boat infested Atlantic, to a secret deposit in Montreal, Canada.
Together, they represented almost the entire wealth of the nation….
Captain Augustus Agar stands on the deck of his ship, HMS Emerald, watching as his men disembarking, bound for Plymouth for a brief spell to spent time with their wives, families, and sweethearts, before embarking on a new mission.
The captain’s eyes glanced from one sailor to another, recalling the events of the last few days.
First was the message he received from the Navy Command, informing him that he would be taking, into the ship’s hold, a cache of high technology, very powerful explosives, a cargo of the utmost importance. He wondered about the vague nature of the orders, but sometimes the Royal Navy was tight lipped about the details of secret missions.
Secondly, was the general order that he and his crew’s next assignment would take place in a “tropical location,” and as such, the standard canvas white uniforms, the kind used for warmer climates, were to be delivered to his ship in short order.
“Tropical location, would it be Freetown in Sierra Leone, India, Singapore, or perhaps even Hong Kong?” The captain considered each of these possibilities, and the unusual nature of the lack of a specific destination in the order.
Then thirdly, and most unusually, in rather casual language, the captain was told that he should inform his crew of the tropical destination of their next assignment, and further to that, he should permit his crew, while on leave, to feel free to tell their loved ones about their upcoming assignment. The captain deemed this to be most unusual. Over the course of his long career, he’d made it a habit to not inform any crew about mission details until they’d set off to sea. Difficult or hazardous missions were not very encouraging topics of discussion for a sailor to be having with his loved ones while on brief leave, better, the captain always thought, for the families to enjoy their time together, as opposed to unnecessarily talking about, and worrying about the potential dangers of the next mission.
Also, perhaps even more importantly, the captain almost always refrained from providing his men with mission details before shore leave as a precaution against the information being heard by the wrong people, most specifically, agents, or spies of an enemy nation.
All of this openness seemed rather odd to the captain, especially as he considered the other news he’d delivered to his officers and men, just before they disembarked for leave…
He recalled the curious looks on the men’s faces as he ordered the ship’s deck cleared. He then called for all to be assembled on the deck. He had a message for them, one that was of such importance that the entire ship’s company was to be told at once. His words were clear and simple…
Britain was now at war.
He then recalled the next words he spoke to his awe-struck crew:
“Our aim is to make this ship as efficient as we can as a fighting unit. We must work like a team, think like a team, and behave like a team.”
He’d then informed them of their tropical assignment, explaining that the warm climate whites would be provided. He also told the men that they should feel at liberty to tell their loved ones about the mission in general. This was only fair, most thought, because tropical missions were almost always longer in duration, often over the course of months, or even years. Under these conditions, the men should have the opportunity to break this news to their loved ones.
And as he watched the last of the men being taken to town in the trucks, the captain looked out over the Plymouth Sound, knowing somewhere deep inside that the mission of shipping secret explosives to a tropical destination didn’t seem to make sense.
He took one last look around, then made his way down to his own cabin, where he’d make further plans for the readiness of his ship.
Hours later, at nine minutes before midnight, when almost everyone was asleep, the captain was told he was to attend a second briefing. This time he was handed a secret message from the Commander-in-Chief Western Approaches. Identical signals were handed to the other two in attendance, the captain of the HMS Enterprise, and the captain of the cruiser Cardoc. Each captain opened their envelopes, which read:
“Two million pounds in gold bars is to be embarked in each ship to Halifax. A railway truck is expected to be placed alongside each ship about 01.00 October 7. Each truck is expected to contain 148 boxes each weighing 130 lbs. The total number of boxes is numbered Z298 to Z741 inclusive. Guards are to be put on each truck on arrival at the ship. Embarkation is to commence about 06.30 or as soon as daylight permits. Adequate steps are to be taken for supervision of each box from unloading from truck to stowage in ship. Finally, a receipt is to be forwarded to C in C Western Approaches on the attached form.”
Captain Agar tucked his orders away, and in the early morning hours of October 7 he and his crew set sail on what would prove to be one of the most perilous and nerve-wracking voyages of his long and storied career. And even more importantly, this one crossing would be the first of many more that would eventually see all of the gold and securities of the Bank of England, and much of that of many European nations, to be safely held in Canada. It was a race against time, as the forces of fascism were rapidly advancing across Europe, a condition that would put each nation’s national wealth at risk. In short, it was the first of a number of Transatlantic missions that, in total, amounted to the greatest transport of wealth in human history.
By the time I’d reached the last page of Alfred Draper’s outstanding book, I’d come to realize more fully that this book of the great transport of treasure would contain a rich treasure trove of stories, the breadth of which I’ve seldom encountered in a book that told of real-life events. Draper told many stories, from the history bending tales that made the headlines of newspapers, to the little-known story gems, the value and significance of which only became known, and appreciated many years after the events. The sheer number of truly fascinating stories was almost unbelievable, and I must say that I had a very difficult time choosing which ones to highlight. Even so, here are a few of the stories that stood out for me:
There were stories of “Confetti Raids,” the Keynes penned “Brusque Letter,” Hitler “Missing the Bus,” bombers leaflet raids, “The Sportsman” a sobriquet for the Norwegian Finance Minister, the gutsy German diplomat Buelow-Schwante who gave King Leopold the heads up concerning Hitler’s plan of attack, the great national betrayal committed by a “Right Club” coding clerk, there was Basil Catterns the tight lipped banker, and there was “Macaroni Gold.” I read tales of sailors showed by a rain of gold coins, and of M Jacques who turned out to be the original “Goldfinger,” there was the “Old Lady of Threadneedle Street,” and a church service on board a ship where every congregant got a good soaking.
And despite the seriousness of the subject matter, Draper also wisely chose to include a healthy dose of humorous, and heartfelt personal stories into his book. A few of my favorites included:
When the crew of Captain Agar’s ship, the “Emerald,” learned that they were not bound for assignment in the tropics, they were relieved mainly because the standard issue “Canvas Whites” were, in their opinion, “the devil’s own” to keep clean and pressed.
The story of a very bright, and unusually articulate unaccompanied British child evacuee who was aboard the “Monarch of Bermuda,” one of the “gold ships” en route from England to Canada. The boy’s casual questions and random musings were so insightful, and so alarmingly close to the truth of things that the captain and officers wondered if he’d accidentally received a security briefing before boarding the ship.
An exhausted husband and wife team who was assigned the harrowing, and physically demanding duty of smuggling a portion of Norway’s gold into a vault of a bank that had somehow survived the bombing of a town. They successfully deliver their precious cargo into the vault, then lock themselves in. Then, upon realizing that there is nowhere else for them to go for the night, they settle onto the vault floor, cuddling together beside the gold, and each fall into a well-deserved, deep sleep.
There was the story of “Patriotic Pudding,” the unforgettable telling of the tale of “Para trooping Nuns,” and the story of Churchill and Roosevelt’s “Blind Date.”
Finally, there was the story of the small team of Bank of England officials; Alexander Craig, Harold Kent, Leslie Phelps, Charles Hamilton, and Harold Forrest, all of whom had to suddenly tell their families that they would be “going to Canada on Sunday,” without them, (they made the Transatlantic voyage ahead of their families). This was the story of “Operation Fish,” which in essence, amounted to the relocation of the Bank of England from London, to the basement of the Sun Life Building in Montreal. It was the amazing story of the way they successfully “transplanted” the central bank of England, inside the borders of Canada. It was also the story of how these bankers and their families soon moved out of their temporary residences in hotels, and settled into neighborhoods, life-long friendships were established, and new family vacation traditions were established. Their children went to local schools, learned new games, and as the years passed, began to forget their homeland, thousands of miles away. How difficult it must’ve been, after six years, for the children to leave friends behind and go back to Britain. And as a matter of fact, some of them, upon establishing careers, moved back to Canada to raise their own families.
This historical account was every bit as engrossing as any thriller I’ve ever read. Five enthusiastic stars for this outstanding telling of one of the most important and Herculean efforts of the 20th Century.
In late May, when France was teetering on the brink of military defeat, Churchill had called the War Cabinet into secret session to discuss plans for shipping to Canada vast stocks of gold stored in the vaults of the Bank of England in Threadneedle Street.
Even more crucial was the decision to evacuate all the negotiable foreign securities held by private citizens and business organizations, across the U-Boat infested Atlantic, to a secret deposit in Montreal, Canada.
Together, they represented almost the entire wealth of the nation….
Captain Augustus Agar stands on the deck of his ship, HMS Emerald, watching as his men disembarking, bound for Plymouth for a brief spell to spent time with their wives, families, and sweethearts, before embarking on a new mission.
The captain’s eyes glanced from one sailor to another, recalling the events of the last few days.
First was the message he received from the Navy Command, informing him that he would be taking, into the ship’s hold, a cache of high technology, very powerful explosives, a cargo of the utmost importance. He wondered about the vague nature of the orders, but sometimes the Royal Navy was tight lipped about the details of secret missions.
Secondly, was the general order that he and his crew’s next assignment would take place in a “tropical location,” and as such, the standard canvas white uniforms, the kind used for warmer climates, were to be delivered to his ship in short order.
“Tropical location, would it be Freetown in Sierra Leone, India, Singapore, or perhaps even Hong Kong?” The captain considered each of these possibilities, and the unusual nature of the lack of a specific destination in the order.
Then thirdly, and most unusually, in rather casual language, the captain was told that he should inform his crew of the tropical destination of their next assignment, and further to that, he should permit his crew, while on leave, to feel free to tell their loved ones about their upcoming assignment. The captain deemed this to be most unusual. Over the course of his long career, he’d made it a habit to not inform any crew about mission details until they’d set off to sea. Difficult or hazardous missions were not very encouraging topics of discussion for a sailor to be having with his loved ones while on brief leave, better, the captain always thought, for the families to enjoy their time together, as opposed to unnecessarily talking about, and worrying about the potential dangers of the next mission.
Also, perhaps even more importantly, the captain almost always refrained from providing his men with mission details before shore leave as a precaution against the information being heard by the wrong people, most specifically, agents, or spies of an enemy nation.
All of this openness seemed rather odd to the captain, especially as he considered the other news he’d delivered to his officers and men, just before they disembarked for leave…
He recalled the curious looks on the men’s faces as he ordered the ship’s deck cleared. He then called for all to be assembled on the deck. He had a message for them, one that was of such importance that the entire ship’s company was to be told at once. His words were clear and simple…
Britain was now at war.
He then recalled the next words he spoke to his awe-struck crew:
“Our aim is to make this ship as efficient as we can as a fighting unit. We must work like a team, think like a team, and behave like a team.”
He’d then informed them of their tropical assignment, explaining that the warm climate whites would be provided. He also told the men that they should feel at liberty to tell their loved ones about the mission in general. This was only fair, most thought, because tropical missions were almost always longer in duration, often over the course of months, or even years. Under these conditions, the men should have the opportunity to break this news to their loved ones.
And as he watched the last of the men being taken to town in the trucks, the captain looked out over the Plymouth Sound, knowing somewhere deep inside that the mission of shipping secret explosives to a tropical destination didn’t seem to make sense.
He took one last look around, then made his way down to his own cabin, where he’d make further plans for the readiness of his ship.
Hours later, at nine minutes before midnight, when almost everyone was asleep, the captain was told he was to attend a second briefing. This time he was handed a secret message from the Commander-in-Chief Western Approaches. Identical signals were handed to the other two in attendance, the captain of the HMS Enterprise, and the captain of the cruiser Cardoc. Each captain opened their envelopes, which read:
“Two million pounds in gold bars is to be embarked in each ship to Halifax. A railway truck is expected to be placed alongside each ship about 01.00 October 7. Each truck is expected to contain 148 boxes each weighing 130 lbs. The total number of boxes is numbered Z298 to Z741 inclusive. Guards are to be put on each truck on arrival at the ship. Embarkation is to commence about 06.30 or as soon as daylight permits. Adequate steps are to be taken for supervision of each box from unloading from truck to stowage in ship. Finally, a receipt is to be forwarded to C in C Western Approaches on the attached form.”
Captain Agar tucked his orders away, and in the early morning hours of October 7 he and his crew set sail on what would prove to be one of the most perilous and nerve-wracking voyages of his long and storied career. And even more importantly, this one crossing would be the first of many more that would eventually see all of the gold and securities of the Bank of England, and much of that of many European nations, to be safely held in Canada. It was a race against time, as the forces of fascism were rapidly advancing across Europe, a condition that would put each nation’s national wealth at risk. In short, it was the first of a number of Transatlantic missions that, in total, amounted to the greatest transport of wealth in human history.
By the time I’d reached the last page of Alfred Draper’s outstanding book, I’d come to realize more fully that this book of the great transport of treasure would contain a rich treasure trove of stories, the breadth of which I’ve seldom encountered in a book that told of real-life events. Draper told many stories, from the history bending tales that made the headlines of newspapers, to the little-known story gems, the value and significance of which only became known, and appreciated many years after the events. The sheer number of truly fascinating stories was almost unbelievable, and I must say that I had a very difficult time choosing which ones to highlight. Even so, here are a few of the stories that stood out for me:
There were stories of “Confetti Raids,” the Keynes penned “Brusque Letter,” Hitler “Missing the Bus,” bombers leaflet raids, “The Sportsman” a sobriquet for the Norwegian Finance Minister, the gutsy German diplomat Buelow-Schwante who gave King Leopold the heads up concerning Hitler’s plan of attack, the great national betrayal committed by a “Right Club” coding clerk, there was Basil Catterns the tight lipped banker, and there was “Macaroni Gold.” I read tales of sailors showed by a rain of gold coins, and of M Jacques who turned out to be the original “Goldfinger,” there was the “Old Lady of Threadneedle Street,” and a church service on board a ship where every congregant got a good soaking.
And despite the seriousness of the subject matter, Draper also wisely chose to include a healthy dose of humorous, and heartfelt personal stories into his book. A few of my favorites included:
When the crew of Captain Agar’s ship, the “Emerald,” learned that they were not bound for assignment in the tropics, they were relieved mainly because the standard issue “Canvas Whites” were, in their opinion, “the devil’s own” to keep clean and pressed.
The story of a very bright, and unusually articulate unaccompanied British child evacuee who was aboard the “Monarch of Bermuda,” one of the “gold ships” en route from England to Canada. The boy’s casual questions and random musings were so insightful, and so alarmingly close to the truth of things that the captain and officers wondered if he’d accidentally received a security briefing before boarding the ship.
An exhausted husband and wife team who was assigned the harrowing, and physically demanding duty of smuggling a portion of Norway’s gold into a vault of a bank that had somehow survived the bombing of a town. They successfully deliver their precious cargo into the vault, then lock themselves in. Then, upon realizing that there is nowhere else for them to go for the night, they settle onto the vault floor, cuddling together beside the gold, and each fall into a well-deserved, deep sleep.
There was the story of “Patriotic Pudding,” the unforgettable telling of the tale of “Para trooping Nuns,” and the story of Churchill and Roosevelt’s “Blind Date.”
Finally, there was the story of the small team of Bank of England officials; Alexander Craig, Harold Kent, Leslie Phelps, Charles Hamilton, and Harold Forrest, all of whom had to suddenly tell their families that they would be “going to Canada on Sunday,” without them, (they made the Transatlantic voyage ahead of their families). This was the story of “Operation Fish,” which in essence, amounted to the relocation of the Bank of England from London, to the basement of the Sun Life Building in Montreal. It was the amazing story of the way they successfully “transplanted” the central bank of England, inside the borders of Canada. It was also the story of how these bankers and their families soon moved out of their temporary residences in hotels, and settled into neighborhoods, life-long friendships were established, and new family vacation traditions were established. Their children went to local schools, learned new games, and as the years passed, began to forget their homeland, thousands of miles away. How difficult it must’ve been, after six years, for the children to leave friends behind and go back to Britain. And as a matter of fact, some of them, upon establishing careers, moved back to Canada to raise their own families.
This historical account was every bit as engrossing as any thriller I’ve ever read. Five enthusiastic stars for this outstanding telling of one of the most important and Herculean efforts of the 20th Century.
April 17, 2024
Great book. I'm American, so this story is hardly mentioned in American history texts concerning WW 2. Learned of "Operation Fish" at the Canadian Currency Museum in Ottawa, which is located in the Bank of Canada building where the gold was stored in 1940 (in the basement vault). It is interesting to read about the debates in the U.S. Congress in 1940-41 concerning whether to lend money to Britain to fight the Germans, a debate similar to the ones being had today over foreign war funding. The more things change, the more they stay the same!
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