A Woman of No Importance: The Untold Story of Virginia Hall, WWII’s Most Dangerous Spy

“In what became known as the decade of lies, truth and trust were falling victim to fear, racism, and hatred.”

As Hitler and Mussolini rose to power, the growing fascism horrified Virginia. However, the “decade of lies” created a perfect environment for the growth and expansion of espionage, with its focus on deception and stealth. Virginia saw that democracy could not thrive with lies as its foundation, but the only way to combat those lies was, ironically, to engage in lying herself.

“Traditionally, British secret services had drawn from a shallow gene pool of posh boys raised on imperial adventure stories, but this regard for breeding over intellect was scarcely a match for the ruthless barbarism of the Third Reich.”

Historically, professional espionage was the purview of elite, often aristocratic boys who longed for adventure and legendary status. The savagery of the Nazis demanded a response in kind. The British secret service would have to rethink its strategies to combat a foe whose inhumanity had no limits. By the time Virginia joined SOE, it had acknowledged its need for a more aggressive and unconventional approach. Among other things, this included hiring women.

“No one in London gave Agent 3844 more than a fifty-fifty chance of surviving even the first few days. For all Virginia’s qualities, dispatching a one-legged thirty-five-year-old desk clerk on a blind mission into wartime France was on paper an almost insane gamble.”

Even though the SOE administration accepted Virginia, trained her, and gave her a mission, they did not expect her to succeed. The qualities that made her seem like a liability were precisely the qualities that would allow her to grow her Resistance network while hiding in plain sight. Her appearance, her sex, and her disability made her so inconspicuous that few people thought she could possibly be a spy.

“Fear never abated […] Fear for oneself; fear of being denounced; fear of being followed without knowing it; fear that it will be ‘them’, when at dawn one hears or thinks one hears a door slam shut or someone coming up the stairs...Fear, finally, of being afraid and of not being able to surmount it.”

A French Resistance fighter summarizes the constant state of anxiety and fear that people in France experienced during the early days of the Nazi invasion. Agents experienced this fear at a greater magnitude. They were required to be brave but also to maintain their facades perfectly. Fear could make people thoughtless, but agents could not afford to react in ways that would alter their plans.

“Resistance called for a lonely courage, for men and women who could fight on their own. But the solitude was an eternal strain.”

Virginia’s comfort with her own company made certain aspects of spy life easier for her. The solitude required by her missions did not wear on her as harshly as it did on others. The loss of her leg had instilled a fierce self-reliance in her, and she was used to hiding her emotions and worries from people.

“All the terror and turmoil was better than feeling dead inside. She was doing a vital job, and doing it well. She had a role. Although capture was a real prospect every minute of the day, she had never felt so free.”

Even though she was always afraid, endangered, and in hiding, Virginia felt useful. The operational autonomy required for her missions granted her liberty with the highest stakes; if she did her job less than perfectly, it could mean her capture and death. This freedom, combined with a sense of purpose, was thrilling.

“The fact that the Germans were on to her made her more determined to prove her worth by evading them. There would be no more displays of weakness to Bodington or anyone else. As her father had told her in her dream all those years ago in Turkey, she had a duty to survive but also to make sense of why, against all the odds, her life had been saved.”

Virginia stayed with missions longer than other agents might have. When she learned that the Germans knew of her existence, she recommitted to eluding them rather than escaping and forming a new plan. The vision of her father sustained her through many of her most dangerous missions, granting her a sense of purpose and duty larger than that of fighting the war.

“When people asked for help, Virginia found the greatest pleasure in being the one able to provide it.”

While in Lyon, Virginia entertained a steady stream of visitors. She would give them contacts if they needed help with the war effort, but she also helped people with their washing. She would often give people her own food and soap if they were going without. Her generosity—and the number of visitors it produced—could have increased her visibility and therefore her risk, but she never denied someone in need.

“Virginia’s role was in the background and she was reticent about pushing herself forward.”

After playing a pivotal role in helping the 12 men escape from Perigueux Prison, Virginia was reluctant to accept much acknowledgement. Later, she would show scorn for people who chased commendations and used their duty as a springboard to greater status or rank. She remained consistent in this view throughout her life, even turning down an opportunity to receive an award at the White House. As someone whose gender already predisposed people to overlook her, Virginia arguably did herself no favors by being “reticent,” but her attitude reflected the extent to which she viewed meaningful work as its own reward.

“The Limping Lady of Lyon was becoming the Nazis’ most wanted Allied agent in the whole of France.”

Virginia grew successful enough that she drew the attention of Klaus Barbie, one of the Nazis’ most sadistic torturers. He became obsessed with catching her, but Virginia continued working. The fact that she was well known enough that Nazis were searching for her is a testament to her skill in eluding them despite her disability.

“Against all the odds, F Section’s high-risk gamble had paid off and a legend had been born (within the tight confines of SOE at least). Indeed, an official report found that there was ‘no doubt’ that any progress in France would have been ‘impossible’ without her.”

Virginia’s contributions to the war efforts in France cannot be overstated. She succeeded beyond the most ambitious dreams of the SOE. This official report makes clear how much her indifferent treatment by the CIA and her relative obscurity during her lifetime owed to sexism.

“Most of the men, Fayol included, believed war was in any case a man’s affair.”

When Virginia arrived at Le Chambon, she still had to contend with stereotypes. Fayol, one of her most important contacts, believed that women should confine themselves to washing, cooking, and mending for military men. He could not tolerate taking orders from her, although she would eventually win his respect and devotion. Fayol’s attitude is representative of many military men at the time, and Virginia’s fight against these stereotypes followed her into the CIA after the war.

“Virginia made sure never to discuss politics, and as a true agent she was willing to work with anyone who could help her defeat the Nazis, including the Communist Franc-Tireurs et Partisans, because she thought them brave and efficient.”

The French Resistance comprised many different groups and ideologies. They all wished to end the Nazi threat but had different motives for doing so. Virginia often found it impossible to unite political tribes that were at odds with one another. For many of the French fighters, their primary concern was about who would lead France after liberation. Virginia, by contrast, focused instead on the ultimate goal of Nazi defeat.

“For months, if not years, she had not dared to dream of a future. She had not felt able to show vulnerability or need—let alone faith. Trust could get you killed and so she had not given anything of herself in a brutal world where her life had been in constant broiling danger.”

After Paul’s arrival and France’s liberation, Virginia allowed herself to imagine a life beyond the war. She fell in love with Paul and pictured a life for them together. Love and trust require a vulnerability that would have been a liability during the war. The absence of danger would help Virginia in her personal life but also leave her relatively unfulfilled as she tried to continue working in the CIA.

“She responded to the question of who should be recommended for an American honor with the curt, ‘In my opinion, no one deserves one.’ And there was, she stated, ‘no reason’ for her to be decorated either.”

When Virginia wrote her official report on her six-month missions in France, she praised everyone whom she felt deserved it. She also scorned anyone who wanted medals and reiterated that duty to France should have been reward enough for anyone. She practiced what she preached and took satisfaction in her work, not in her accolades.

“I don’t want people to talk about what I did. Everything I did was for love of France, my second country.”

Virginia resisted the urge to tell war stories or to aggrandize herself. She insisted that she and others simply did what was necessary. They served out of patriotism and, in her case, for the pure love of France. To Virginia, focusing on awards diminished the cause they fought for.

“Miss Virginia Hall…feels very strongly that she should not receive any publicity or any announcement as to her award….She states she is still operational and most anxious to get busy. Any publicity would preclude her going on any operation.”

Virginia asked her commanders in Paris to turn down the White House’s invitation for her Distinguished Service Cross. Even after the war, she was anxious to continue serving, and publicity could have compromised her usefulness in future covert operations. Duty remained the most important part of Virginia’s life during peacetime.

“She set off across the Atlantic with the respect and admiration of her colleagues and superiors and the love of a good man. War had been her fulfillment. Would peace be the same?”

Virginia returned to America with Paul after the war. She now faced a life of relative restfulness and safety, and the professional respect she had secured reassured her that she would smoothly transition into a new and useful branch of service. Unfortunately, she would never again be as fulfilled as she was during the war.

“Barbara was not impressed, and thoughts of marriage were put on ice. For all Virginia’s rebelliousness, she did not go against her mother’s wishes on this—although she refused to give up her lover altogether. The compromise was that she would live a lie by concealing her relationships with Paul.”

Virginia grew used to being obeyed during the war, but when she returned home, her mother’s coldness to Paul placed her in an awkward position. Showing little of the fierce independence that served her in France, Virginia gave in to her mother’s pettiness. She hid her relationship from Barbara, living a new sort of double life rather than claiming her right to pursue her own romantic relationships. Barbara had more influence over Virginia than any of her detractors in the field ever did, illustrating the pervasiveness of gender norms; though she flouted expectations in her professional life, Virginia apparently felt some personal obligation to defer to her mother.

“Six years after the war, Virginia was plagued by the same professional frustrations she had suffered in the 1930s. It was as if she had never proved her worth as a field agent at all.”

The CIA placed Virginia in a string of unsatisfying jobs, including a stint as an executive assistant. The woman who was essential to the liberation of France was now underutilized, unappreciated, and often ignored in her own country. Purnell describes this process as similar to the obstacles Virginia faced when originally applying for diplomatic positions before the war, contrasting it with the seismic political and military changes that took place in the intervening years (and that Virginia helped bring about).

“She refused, however, an invitation to a reunion on the grounds that she did not want anyone to talk about her deeds during the war. She would only open up so far.”

When the Diane Irregulars planned a reunion, Virginia wouldn’t go. She refused to hear anyone—even those who knew and helped her—discuss or celebrate her actions. She found the preening and boasting of many veterans distasteful and distracting from the real work they achieved.

“‘The qualities—namely her age, disability and gender—that made her so good overseas by rendering her invisible, would make life difficult for her in an office environment.’ Promotions, status, and the ‘right to be listened to’ on the covert operations side of the CIA relied largely on recent experience in the field, and now she had none to offer.”

A former CIA officer describes Virginia’s late-career difficulties above. When Virginia finally began opting out of foreign postings, she paid the professional price. There is no official reason why she turned down offers, but Purnell speculates that it was a combination of her desire to remain with Paul and her growing health problems.

“Valor rarely reaps the dividends it should.”

Virginia’s patriotism, courage, and commitment were largely unrewarded after she returned from the war. Other CIA colleagues believed she was the victim of insecure men who felt that her achievements overshadowed their own. She also did not seek acknowledgement herself—only more opportunities to serve in a way that made use of her skills.