The dirty tricks department Stanley Lovell, the OSS, and the masterminds of World War II secret warfare

Intelligence gathering and spy craft have been essential components of warfare for as long as wars have been fought, it seems. But it was during WWII that spy craft was elevated to unforeseen levels of creativity, deviousness, and overall importance in the fight against the Axis powers. Using recently declassified documents, Lisle has composed an absolutely engaging chronicle of the founding and WWII heyday of the OSS, the precursor of today's CIA. Initial instigator William Donovan, a WWI hero, had a hard time convincing FDR of the need for an organization like the OSS, but the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor changed the president's mind. Donovan recruited Stanley Lovell, who organized the initial crew tasked with forming and equipping that early cadre of agents. Traditional military minds were also slow to see the worth of these incipient James Bonds with their raft of fancy, esoteric gadgets and their collection of dirty tricks. But the OSS soon proved its value, a value so great that it grew into today's massive intelligence community. How it all got started, though, is endlessly fascinating.

Historian Lisle debuts with a knowledgeable and entertaining study of the R&D Branch within the Office of Strategic Services during WWII. In 1942, OSS chief William "Wild Bill" Donovan tapped Stanley Lovell, a renowned industrial chemist, to be his "Professor Moriarty" and direct the department's efforts to "develop and deploy all of the dirty tricks that were needed to win the greatest war in history." Lisle catalogs dozens of projects undertaken by department researchers, including truth drug experiments, matchbox cameras, and a study of whether bats could be captured, strapped with incendiary devices, and unleashed on Japan. Lovell increased the scope of R&D's portfolio by creating subunits like the Camouflage Division, which could "transform any agent into a passable French miner, German soldier, Danish fisherman, or Dutch longshoreman at a moment's notice." Initially reluctant to create deadly weapons, Lovell "developed into a pragmatist... when faced with the devastating realities of war," according to Lisle, and "came to view biological warfare as the ethical alternative to conventional warfare." Though Lovell's character remains somewhat obscure, Lisle stuffs the account with bizarre inventions, humorous anecdotes, and vivid sketches of researchers and agents. Espionage buffs will be enthralled. (Mar.)

An engaging study of a secretive government group created "to develop and deploy all of the dirty tricks that were needed to win the greatest war in history." Stories about spy agencies are always intriguing, and there is still much to be explored about the work of the Office of Strategic Services. Lisle, an academic historian of science and the intelligence community, delves into the work of the Research and Development Branch of the OSS, which was responsible for the invention of new weapons and techniques for the military as well as for the resistance movements fighting behind the enemy lines. The key figure is Stanley Lovell (1927-2010), who was recruited by OSS director William "Wild Bill" Donovan to head the branch. Lovell was an industrial chemist with a good eye for innovation, and he brought a number of colorful characters into the group. Even before the U.S. was formally at war, the R & D branch was developing weapons for sabotage, such as silenced guns, time-delay fuses for explosives, and magnetic mines. One of the most useful inventions was "Aunt Jemima," an explosive compound that could be camouflaged as pancake flour. The branch also provided fake documents, disguises, and cover stories for spies. Some of the ideas that the branch explored were merely fanciful--e.g., the plan to use bats to deliver incendiary bombs. Studies on biological and chemical warfare were more serious but raised difficult moral questions. The war ended before research in these areas came to fruition. Lisle believes that the work of the R & D branch made a critical contribution to the war effort, but he acknowledges that there is still controversy about the overall effectiveness of the OSS. Regardless, it's a fascinating story, and with the use of newly unearthed documents and interview material, the author tells it well. With careful research and a dry wit, Lisle finds much to say about the backroom war. A page-turning account of the scientists, inventors, and eccentrics of the OSS in a critical period of conflict. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.