The O.S.S. - Part 1

On November 15, 1943, a group of us civilian recruits assembled at O.S.S. Headquarters in downtown Chicago. We were led by a liaison officer to the Aurora and Elgin Station where we boarded for Warrenville, Illinois, a sleepy little prairie town about the size of Lynchburg, Tennessee. It had gone up when a C.C.C. Camp called "Camp McDowell" was built there in the 1930's. We were all loaded into an Army Troop truck driven by Army personnel. We all looked at each other and wondered to ourselves, what have we gotten ourselves into. I remember in this truck, as I later found out, was a doctor in his 30's who had a severe heart condition, a Jewish restaurant owner, an artist, a 50 year old radio and appliance store owner, an insurance agent, a retired postal telegraph operator who was about 55, this man lived in Oak Park and his name was McEwen. We called him "Mac." He knew nothing about radio but was the fastest code man I ever saw. I spent long hours with Mac in the barracks on base, in Washington, D.C. and Manassas, Virginia, teaching him radio theory for his amateur radio license.  Another man on this truck was, of all people, Bill Barlow, who had been my communications instructor at Coyne Radio School. Bill was probably 20 years my senior, born in Canada and lived in Oak Park near Mac but did not know each other. While in Washington, D.C., Bill was one of my best friends. Helen and I visited Bill and Reba Barlow in Oak Park after the war when we had a reunion with Bill, Mac, Sam Jenkins who was the appliance store owner on the truck, and Corporal Ray Cook the only military man from Warrenville. We always had vans to take us to and from the train each day.

For three days, we were indoctrinated into much of the intent and purpose of the O.S.S. Some things we were never told. We were told up front that the people on base, regardless of uniform, may or may not be military, civilian or agent and the rank insignia on uniforms were often deceptive. I can remember seeing General Bill Donovan two times, once at a brief visit at Camp McDowell as he walked through the main code room and in the mess hall at lunch, and later at Area "C" near Manassas when he brought down a British Major, whose name now escapes me. He was famous in British Intelligence on unethical practices behind enemy lines. His specialty was knife warfare. The complete camp was assembled and General Donovan introduced him and he gave an hour demonstration, with prompts, on how to steal up and cut the enemies throat without alarming anyone. Of course we all had to sit in. "Gross."

In the spring of 1944, about 20 of us were transferred to Area "C," the main communication and agent training center for O.S.S. that was located south of Washington, near Dumfrees and Manassas, Virginia. The site was well camouflaged in a dense wooded area in a rather isolated part of Prince William County. The camp was about a mile into the woods on a country road. It, as was Camp McDowell,  had been a C.C.C. (Civilian Conservation Corps) Camp.

A sketch of Timothy Marsh done at Area "C" O.S.S. Camp.

A point of interest here...
In 1991, Helen and I drove up to that region to find where the old camp had stood, after nearly fifty years we were sure it was a long shot at best. We passed the little narrow road leading off the main road, I recognized it as we passed, we turned around, went down the road and smack into the old camp with parade grounds, headquarters buildings and cabins. It had grown up, not well kept but still there, being used by some group out of D.C. for underprivileged teenagers. We then went on in to Manassas, the nearest town of any size to the camp, where those with families lived.

Entrance to Area "C" in Prince William County, Virginia in 1991

We located the spot where the old Prince William Hotel stood in 1943. A Motor Inn on the spot now. When Helen and little Marsha Joan came out later in 1945, we stayed at Prince William and Helen worked as a waitress in the Coffee Shop. We later moved down the street and shared a house with another couple named Willis. The husband being army at the camp. We shared a ride when we came in from the camp with Lt. Ellis Marshall, my immediate supervisor.

Part of an article from the Shelbyville Times-Gazette about Tim Marsh and his service with the O.S.S.