Deadly Deceits by Ralph W. McGehee

individual, a detailed form would be filled out so that no one would have to repeat the process for a later request.
    He suggested that a huge photocopy machine be bought and put in the file room and that individual permanent file copies of documents not be lent out; instead such documents should be copied and given to the person making the request.
    Many of Charles Thompson’s proposals were put into effect. The piles of documents slowly began to recede, the card files thinned out, and the troublesome searches for loaned documents became infrequent. My unit was designated to review all documents on China and mark for destruction those deemed of little value. Joy was rampant. Can you imagine turning 15 people loose to destroy documents that had tormented them for years? You only go around once in life, and we went with gusto. I set up some informal guidelines for our office on what should and should not be destroyed, but these guidelines somehow were more ignored than honored. China activities won Charles Thompson’s prize for the greatest reduction in file holdings.
    On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union orbited the world’s first satellite, Sputnik 1 , and sent the “free world” into a tailspin. Here was the potential for the ultimate spy in the sky, the takeoff point for even greater and more potentially dangerous weaponry. The press responded with visions of doomsday and calls for an all-out effort to catch up to the Soviets.
    Allen, my friend who had worked with me in Japan and now at Headquarters, was distraught. This news so upset himthat his usual self-assured, forceful, let’s-get-the-job-done attitude seemed to have vanished. We went for a long walk around the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool.
    â€œHow can we fight those commie bastards?” Allen asked dejectedly. “If they decide to do something, they just tell people where to go and what to do. No one can object. Now all their top students are forced to concentrate on math and science. How can we hope to fight that?”
    â€œLook what we did in World War II,” I replied. “Our fleet was destroyed at Pearl Harbor, the war in Europe seemed almost over and the Germans were winning everywhere, but once people were aroused to fight, we became the world’s greatest arsenal overnight. We can do the same thing this time. We can launch our own satellite.”
    â€œBut the threat is different this time,” said Allen gloomily. “How many Americans recognize the danger? A tiny sphere circling the globe doesn’t alarm people like an all-out war.”
    â€œWell, I still think our democracy can respond to the challenge,” I said, but Allen wasn’t convinced. He seemed to have lapsed into apathy.
    â€œInternational communism is a different kind of threat,” he grumbled. “It’s like a cancer; it grows slowly until it destroys you. They can direct anyone to do anything. They can order their people to move, to study certain topics, to concentrate on weapons development. We have our freedom of choice, our effort is voluntary. It seems like there is no way for us to keep up.”
    Allen wasn’t alone in his pessimism. The Agency seemed permeated by it. We all feared that our way of life, our freedom, our religions were directly exposed to the cancer. But this pessimism ultimately turned to rededication. Our national leaders moved to launch our own satellite. After a few misfires and a lot more teeth gnashing, despite Nikita Khrushchev’s disparaging remarks about our orbiting “grapefruit,” we knew we were on the road to success. We in the Agency felt that the battle for the freedom of the world was now, to a large extent, in our hands.
    Both Allen and I hoped to play a large role in that fight. We felt our talents were under-utilized in our present paper-shuffling jobs and wanted to get directly involved in operationsagainst the communist menace. After numerous appeals, one day