Wartime Artists Learn The Art Of War

Abstract Art Or Camouflage?

Ellsworth Kelly, The Meschers, 1951, oil on canvas, 59 x 59 inches, Museum Of Modern Art, New York.

"All warfare is based on deception," said Chinese theoretician Sun Tzu in his definitive work on military strategy and tactics, The Art of War. No one knew this better than the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops of the World War II U.S. Army. This unit was chronicled in Friday's Book Patrol, in conjunction with an exhibit at The University of Michigan's Harlan Hatcher Graduate Library. The Ann Arbor library's display of memorabilia, photos, and art works will also include the screening of a rough cut Rick Beyer's documentary, The Ghost Army.

The exploits of this unit of 1,100 men, so adept at visual and sonic skulduggery that they were mistaken by the Nazis for a phantom army of 30,000, are some of the most unusual and least known stories of World War II. But equally impressive are the creative individuals who made up the 23rd. Required to have an IQ of at least 119, and recruited from America's finest art, engineering, and design schools, these men combined their talents and brain power to become the P.T. Barnums of subterfuge. Many of them went on to achieve great fame after the war. All were forever changed by both their military service in Europe just after the 1944 invasion of Normandy, and the arts of deception and misdirection they perfected there.

Many of the visual artists recruited into the 23rd specialized in creating camouflage. The Ghost Army artists primarily painted perfect patterns to disguise valuable weaponry. But bizarrely, they sometimes created calculatedly crummy concealment for the bogus inflatable weapons the unit used to draw fire away from the real thing. Future Hollywood actor and set designer George Diestel recalled a major drawback to being a camoufleur: "The trouble with camouflage is you really never know if it works, because you just simply don't get bombed. You only know if it doesn't work." In other words, this dangerous disguise duty was for the birds, or at least for a particularly artistic birdwatcher.

Artist Ellsworth Kelly Photographed By Richard Leslie Schulman.

The man who became the most famous painter to graduate from the art school of The Ghost Army, minimalist Ellsworth Kelly, was introduced to birdwatching by his paternal grandmother at age 9. As a boy he was a quiet loner with a pronounced stutter, who spent much of his free time studying the ways in which birds blend in with their habitat. Kelly maintained that quiet contemplation of avians trained his eye to focus on shapes, forms, and colors, rather than lines. Kelly's paintings often utilize only two or three colors, the same number that typically occur in any one species of bird. He was influenced throughout his career by the greatest ornithological illustrator in history, John James Audubon.

The source of Kelly's spare style presents one of those "chicken or egg" questions when analyzing the influence of his time in the 23rd on his aesthetic. Did his boyhood study of the protective coloration of birds make him a natural at creating convincing camouflage? Or did his time obscuring ordinance obliterate his interest in lines? Kelly once said of his painting: "I'm not interested in edges. I'm interested in the mass and color, the black and white. The edges happen because the forms get as quiet as they can be. When I work with forms and colors, I get the edge." He further explained:"By removing the content from my work I shifted the visual reality of painting to include the space around it."

Ellsworth Kelly, Untitled 1957, Ink On Paper.

That description sounds a lot like the whole idea of camouflage: to erase the boundaries of the object to be hidden, making it indistinguishable from its surroundings. Whether or not it was due to his time in the trenches, Kelly became a master of the use of shadow and form, forever fascinated by the construction and deconstruction of the visible.

How Can We Know The Artist From The Art?
Portrait Of Robert Rauschenberg By Art Kane, 1974.
(Image courtesy of Haus der Kunst, Munich.)

Following the previous pattern, another of the 23rd's most distinguished alumni, photographer Art Kane, also had a boyhood fascination with animals, in his case reptiles. As "Arthur Kanofsky" of the Bronx, he was the first New York City Boy Scout to earn the Reptile Study merit badge, thanks to his collection of 32 pet snakes. His original ambition was to become an illustrator of fairy tales, creating serpent-influenced dragons, and other reptilian inhabitants of an imaginary netherworld. Drafted into the Ghost Army, his boyhood study of snakes served him in the same way as Ellsworth Kelly's birdwatching: he was familiar with rendering a species that silently slides unseen through its surroundings. Creating camouflage was a cakewalk for Kane.

After the war, Kane served as an art director for Seventeen magazine, pursuing photography only as a sideline. But in 1958 fellow art director Robert Benton of Esquire magazine hired Kane to shoot his first professional photographs: a series of images on the history of jazz. This led to the creation of what is arguably the most famous shot of jazz musicians in history, known as A Great Day In Harlem.

A Great Day In Harlem by Art Kane, 1958.

Kane attributed the creation of the iconic image to the fact that he was "young and naive." Instead of shooting portraits of individual players, he contacted every major jazz musician in New York City and asked them to show up at a brownstone on 126th street in Harlem at 10 am. Benton, among others, thought Kane was nuts to think jazz musicians would show up anyplace at 10 am. But amazingly, 57 premiere players including Thelonious Monk, Dizzy Gillespie, Count Basie, Charles Mingus, Gene Krupa, Maxine Sullivan and Sonny Rollins, put in a appearance. The complex logistics, brilliant composition, and historic importance of A Great Day In Harlem, made Kane's reputation as a portrait photographer, specializing in musicians. Art Kane went on to create arresting images of Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison, The Who, and the Rolling Stones.

The influence of Kane's time in the Ghost Army on his photos can be seen in his integration of subject and setting. Unexpected angles, saturated colors, and a painterly use of color, texture, and form unify his body of work more than particular subjects. A Kane photograph presents an otherworldly image in which background and foreground become inseparable, completely unified as part of total sensual experience. Nothing is seen as it really is, or as the viewer thinks it ought to be, but somehow the work still taps into the collective unconscious, and resonates as a familiar archetype. Andy Warhol commented on Kane's laser-like precision: "Like the sun, Art beams his eye straight at his subject, and what he sees, he pictures." Ironically, in light of his time with the military's masters of deception, one of Kane's most famous commercial images was used for the only magazine advertisement of the DeLorean Motor Company. It was later reprinted in a book about the shadowy history of that company entitled Stainless Steel Illusion.

Fashion In The Foxholes: A Page From Bill Blass's Wartime Sketchbook, circa 1944.

(Photo Courtesy Of Rick Beyer, ghostarmy.org.)

Despite the fact they became experts at camouflaging hardware, some of the creative types in the Ghost Army had a particularly tough time blending in. Gung-ho G.I. Joe's and off-beat aesthetes were the military version of oil and water. But one of the 23rd's oddest odd-balls was also one of its best liked members: future fashion designer Bill Blass.

Rick Beyer, creator of the documentary film about the Ghost Army, remarked that even in wartime Blass cut "a glamorous figure," and was a favorite subject of sketches and photos by his fellow soldiers. One of his closest friends in the unit, and later a designer for the U.S. Foreign Service, Jack Masey, describes the defiantly debonair Blass as a "Great guy. Wonderful. Knew what he wanted, read Vogue in his foxhole. The rest of us were a bunch of slobs, but not Blass. He was always dressed to the nines." Another member of the 23rd, Bill Sayles, remembers him as always having a positive outlook: "[Blass] would never shirk a duty. If it was cleaning trash cans, he was right there with a smile and beautiful teeth." In his memoir, Bare Blass, the man himself explained: "For me, the three and a half years that I spent in the army represented absolute freedom. I was truly on my own for the first time in my life. So, naturally, in that exuberant state of mind, I didn't always notice how bad things were."

A 1944 Caricature of Stylish Soldier Bill Blass By His Friend and Ghost Army Comrade, Jack Masey.

(Image Courtesy of Rick Beyer.)

The man who became world famous for designing racy yet elegant sportswear, blending softly feminine details with impeccable menswear tailoring, was his own finest creation. Before anyone had ever imagined The Ghost Army, he used its tools of trickery to disguise his own middle class, Midwestern origins. When Blass was five, his father died from "a self-inflicted gunshot wound in our front parlor." From that time he cultivated a "budding genius for avoiding anything unpleasant or ugly." He began making sketches of glamorous, sophisticated socialites inspired by elegant film-star fashion plates like Carole Lombard and Claudette Colbert. In the yearbook of his Indiana High School, Blass said his greatest ambition was "to get out." His classmates voted him "the best dressed and least likely to succeed." They were half right.

He was already making money from his fashion designs when he arrived in Europe to join the 23rd, courtesy of Uncle Sam. While other soldier-artists sketched their war-torn surroundings, Blass filled his notebooks with "drawings of ladies' hats, shoes, gloves, and dresses," and with doodles of the mirrored "B"s that became his logo." Bill Sayles recalled there was a practical side to this unlikely pass time:"He would sit on a bunk bed on Saturdays and Sundays, and he would do little thumbnail sketches of clothes. He would, in two half-days, do about 300 to 400. Then he'd wrap it up, send it down to Buenos Aires, or Rio de Janeiro. He had some contacts there. And they would pay him $2 apiece. He did pretty good." Blass later laughed that his World War II heroics consisted of "painting, sewing, impersonation, and dreaming up marvelous new uses for chicken feathers."

Never Without A Smile: Bill Blass, Europe, 1944.

The charisma and joie de vivre that Blass exuded even in combat, combined with his tremendous talent for and love of fashion, made him one of the best loved and most successful clothing designers of the 20th century. He was said to have the ability to ''charm the clothes right onto a woman's back.'' John Fairchild, former publisher of Women's Wear Daily, said of him: ''Bill Blass was the gentleman of American fashion -- the perfect gentleman. And they are few and far between. He had a sense of being all-American -- very attractive and great fun to be with. Basically he was one of the few designers who didn't talk about himself. What a pleasure.''

Blass had a deep respect for his profession, but he was never a snob about it: ''It's pretentious to be in awe of it. Fashion is a craft and an expression of a period of time, but it is not an art.'' He became a multi-millionaire but never lost his generosity of spirit or his humility. After donating $10 million to the New York Public Library in 1994, he told a friend that his greatest thrill was that he had made all that money himself. He loved to have his high society clients over for dinner, but always served them ordinary, home-cooked, Indiana comfort food. When asked by a reporter how he thought he would be remembered Blass replied: ''My claim to immortality will be my meatloaf.''

Bill Blass: The Personification Of Style, Not Fashion.

A statement Bill Blass once made about his industry could double as a tribute to the singular artist/soldiers of the Ghost Army: "Fashion can be bought by anybody; style takes discernment. It has to do with individuality.'' One thing is for sure: no Army unit in history ever contained more stylish individuals than the 23rd Headquarters (Very) Special Troops.

Posted by Nancy Mattoon

Ghost Army Haunts Michigan Library

Resting Soldiers A Watercolor By Ghost Army Soldier John Jarvie.

(Image Courtesy Of Rick Beyer, ghostarmy.org.)

An invisible army, operating in obscurity, mastering the arts of illusion, deception, and disinformation to defeat the Nazis in World War II. This could be a description of the French Resistance fighters, the band of brothers who operated in utmost secrecy under the noses of the German occupation forces, and have been called "The Army of Shadows." But it also describes an amazing division of American troops stationed in the European Theatre: the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, AKA "The Ghost Army." This top-secret unit, so highly classified that its very existence was denied by the Pentagon for 50 years, is finally being not just exposed but placed in the spotlight, by a Michigan Library and an award-winning documentary filmmaker.

The University of Michgan's Harlan Hatcher Graduate Library is presenting a "Ghost Army" exhibit through April 30, 2010. It consists of photographs, drawings, and paintings, along with quotations from the soldiers who created them. An accompanying narrative text was written by Exhibits and Outreach Librarian Karen Jordan, and based on research conducted by University of Michigan Art History Ph.D. student Diana Mankowski.

And if you're expecting amateurish pencil sketches by doodling G.I.'s, think again. There's a reason an art history student spent time researching The Ghost Army: the 23rd was an elite unit made up of artists, designers, sound technicians, press agents, makeup artists, and professional photographers. And if you think that description sounds more like a film crew than an army, you're on the right track. The Ghost Army was the brainchild of a movie star, who knew a thing or two about fooling an audience with optical illusions and special effects.

Swashbuckler and Navy Man: Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.

Swashbuckling action star Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. lobbied the Navy brass (he was serving in the United States Naval Reserve) to create a unit based on deception after he completed a tour of England and its special forces installations. Fairbanks had friends in high places, up to and including Franklin D. Roosevelt. The unit ended up as part of the Army in 1944, but the original idea remained unchanged: the 23rd's mission was to deceive the German Army into believing that the Allies possessed more troops and material than they actually did and, even more heroically, to draw enemy fire on themselves, allowing regular combat units to advance with fewer casualties.

The deceptions of The Ghost Army used every theatrical tool at their command. Sound engineers created elaborate, multi-layered recordings of the noises made by infantry, tank, and artillery units in all kinds of weather and from a variety of distances. A few sound trucks armed with nothing more than loud speakers could "impersonate" a battalion of tanks or an entire infantry division. A radio deception section of the unit contributed fake transmissions so convincing they fooled the notorious German radio propagandist, Axis Sally, into reporting an entire Allied division was gearing up for battle in a location where there were no troops at all.

Four Ghost Army Soldiers: Strong Enough To Lift An Inflatable Tank.
(Image Courtesy Of Rick Beyer/Hatcher Graduate Library.)

Another tool of trickery involved visual deceptions, created using life-size mock-ups of artillery, trucks, planes, tanks, and even buildings. Jack Masey, who was drafted into the 23rd at age 18, recalled: "We were told we were going to be using inflatable equipment to try and fool the Germans into thinking that we were a real army, when we were in effect, I suppose, a rubber army." The rubber "big boys," as they were known, were covered with deliberately ineffective camouflage by the artists of the unit, the better to be noticed, reported, and attacked by the Germans, while real weapons were left alone. Mississippi-born soldier A.B. Wilson said maintaining secrecy and the illusion of realism were the keys to these full-of-hot-air operations: "We had one occasion in France where a fellow decided his tank would look better on the other side of the road, it would be a more natural place for it. So these four guys pick up this tank and go walking across the road with it. And there’s a Frenchman coming down the road that sees it, and he thought he was hallucinating to see four men pick up a tank. But the MP's got him right quick, and I'm sure he was never able to tell anyone what he saw for the rest of the war."

A "Dummy Convoy": Every Vehicle And Weapon In This Photo Is Rubber.
(Image Courtesy of Rick Beyer.)

An actor's skills were often required of members of the 23rd, too. This part of the job ranged from the pleasurable to the tedious. Play-acting assignments sometimes resembled R&R. Jack Masey said sometimes the soldiers would visit villages in an effort to fool informants: "We were to be seen, mill around, go to pubs, have a good time, pick up girls, enjoy." Having memorized the recent history of the unit they were pretending to be part of, the 23rd's repertory company convincingly dropped tidbits of information only the real deal would know. Then they offered a sincere recitation of entirely bogus battle plans, revealing the future position of their battle-scarred unit. Oscar-worthy performances were played out in taverns by these careless "drunks" who spilled vital military intelligence more often than their beers. Lucky members of the unit got instantaneous, if temporary, promotions, according to A.B. Wilson: "Sometimes you'd portray a different rank than what you actually were. Sometimes our colonel was a two-star general, you know, a brigadier general."

Two Masters Of Illusion: Camouflage Engineer Joe Spence Meets Actress Marlene Dietrich.

(Image Courtesy of Rick Beyer.)

But most assignments were far less enjoyable. Soldiers would drive though villages for hours in looping convoys of trucks meant to transport dozens of men. In fact, they held only the driver and two passengers positioned in the rear, wearing the proper uniforms and patches to mimic the "division" arriving to prepare for battle. Members of the Ghost Army impersonated parts of so many different outfits, redesigning uniforms and attaching and removing shoulder patches so often, some became expert tailors by the end of the war. A.B. Wilson remembered: "We wore the same patches other units wore. We didn't fasten them too tight, because you knew they were going to come off shortly." (The Ghost Army's real shoulder insignia was never allowed to be worn. It featured a ghost, and Latin slogans meaning "Let's simulate those that do not exist," and "Those that exist should really be disguised.")

The Never To Be Worn Insignia Of The Ghost Army.

(Image Courtesy of Lynn Ischay, The Cleveland Plain Dealer.)

These elaborate theatrics influenced German units to prepare for battles far from where the largest U.S. combat units intended to be. According to Jack M. Kneece, author of Ghost Army of World War II, the Germans thought they were up against a 30,000-man phantom army: "Sometimes a huge German unit would surrender to them." The entire Ghost Army was never more than 1,100 men.

The Top-Secret Official History Of The 23rd Headquarters Special Troops.
(Image Courtesy of Rick Beyer.)

The 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, code-named "Blarney," are credited with saving at least 15,000 American lives. And they did it not with deadly weapons, but with their brains, talents, skills, and courage. From Normandy to the Rhine, they staged 20 all-out battlefield deceptions. They served with four armies in five European countries, and in five major campaigns from D-Day (June 6, 1944) until the end of the war in 1945. As A.B. Wilson puts it: "So many people have never heard of this type unit, and I'd like for people to know that there was a lot of ingenuity put into this thing. There was a lot going on that people didn't know about, and even the rest of the Army didn't know about. It was quite a unit."

Michigan librarian Karen Jordan agrees: "this is a story that is rarely known... I know that the children of Ghost Army veterans want to get it out. I also think we at the library know that this is an important story to tell. We have books about it in our stacks, but people don't really know about it." Documentarian, author, and journalist Rick Beyer is also determined to tell the Ghost Army' s story. Beyer, whose films have been shown on the History Channel, at the Smithsonian Museum of American History and at Mount Vernon, contributed most of the materials featured in the Ghost Army exhibition. He has spent nearly five years working on producing a documentary film on the 23rd, aided along the way by Martha Gavin, whose uncle, John Jarvie served with the unit. A rough cut of the film, The Ghost Army, will be screened on Wednesday, March 17, 2010 at 7 pm at the University of Michigan's Room 100 Gallery. Beyer has also created an extensive and beautifully detailed gallery devoted to the Ghost Army, which includes roughly 800 digitized photographs, letters, and works of art.

A page from a diary kept by Camouflage Engineer Bob Tompkins.
He kept it in a tiny address book, as it was completely illegal for him to have it.

Entry For August 21, 1944:
"Pulled out at 8:10 AM. 158 miles. Drove most of the way with top and windshield down in driving rain. Would give my right arm to sit in front of a cozy fire with my little darling in my arms. Oh Adolph, you son of a Bitch. I feel like a frozen drowned rat. "
(Image Courtesy Of Rick Beyer.)

As incredible as the exploits of the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops are, Rick Beyer correctly points out they are "only half the story." The other half is the personal journies of the men who made up the unit. The Ghost Army, says Beyer, was made up of "soldier-artists [who] went on to have a major influence on postwar art and design in America." These young men were recruited from the finest art and engineering schools in the country, and the unit "became an incubator for young artists who literally sketched and painted their way through Europe," according to Beyer.

Many of these men achieved great fame after the war. I'm not going to name drop here, but I'll leave you with a few hints. One Ghost Army veteran built a $700 million fashion empire based on impeccably tailored sportswear. Another is a world renowned minimalist painter and sculptor whose works grace The Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim Museum, and the Whitney Museum of American Art. Still another was a photographer who captured the most famous image of jazz musicians ever taken. The lives of these three men, and of others equally accomplished in their own artistic fields, were shaped by their combat experiences in the most unusual unit of America's World War II Army.

Posted by Nancy Mattoon