How film legend Christopher Lee made up his heroic war record: He claimed to be an SAS veteran and Nazi hunter. But the stories don't add up 

• Dracula actor would claim to have a remarkable war record to interviewers
• But historian Gavin Mortimer said actor never served in the SAS or SOE
• Actor had become 'seriously confused between his own myths and reality' 

By Guy Walters for the Daily Mail

Published: 16:16 EST, 17 July 2015 | Updated: 17:23 EST, 17 July 2015

This was a part that the late actor Sir Christopher Lee played brilliantly and often. The lines were well-rehearsed and the effect they had on an audience mesmeric. 

Invariably, they would be accompanied by a faraway look in his deep brown eyes, as if he were recalling unspeakable horrors. In some ways, it was Lee’s greatest performance.

But the lines he spoke were not for a role that brought him fame. They were not for Count Dracula, Saruman in The Lord Of The Rings nor Count Dooku in Star Wars.

Instead, they were lines he had scripted himself, designed to add depth and complexity to another character — his own. And he used them mostly in interviews when asked about his experiences during World War II.

Exaggerated: Christopher Lee in Bond film The Man With The Golden Gun. He served in the RAF in North Africa, Italy and the Balkans. But while he had a 'good war', he would hint it was much more dangerous

For more than two years, Lee served as an intelligence officer for the RAF in North Africa, Italy and the Balkans. He rose to the rank of flight lieutenant — the equivalent of an Army captain. Though he was not a flyer, he was often exposed to danger and had what is often known as a ‘good war’.

However, Lee liked to hint that his war had been more interesting than that — much more interesting.

He would tell interviewers that in his role with the RAF, he had been ‘attached’ to some of the most glamorous units of the war. These included the Long Range Desert Group, which was the forerunner of another unit with which he said he had served — the Special Air Service (SAS).

In addition, he had also supposedly worked with the Special Operations Executive (SOE) in Yugoslavia, carrying out secret missions behind enemy lines.

And finally, after the war, Lee also claimed to have been a Nazi hunter, a role that required him to visit concentration camps and seek out fugitive SS officers.

Fake heroics: Christopher Lee, pictured in 1944, told reporters he was attached to 'glamorous' RAF untis

Invariably, whenever Lee was pressed for more details, he would clam up and state that his work was still subject to the Official Secrets Act, so he was in no position to elucidate.

A typical response was one he gave in a newspaper interview in 2011. ‘I was attached to the SAS from time to time, but we are forbidden — former, present or future — to discuss any specific operations,’ he said.

When pressed, he stated: ‘Let’s just say I was in “special forces” and leave it at that. People can read into that what they like.’

And, over the years, people did read a lot into these tantalising claims of wartime heroics.

Not only are there countless websites that gush about Lee’s amazingly brave and ‘badass’ exploits, but newspaper obituaries last month dutifully reported that the actor had served in all these elite units and had even taken part in raids on enemy airfields.

However, this week, the true story of Lee’s wartime service has started to emerge — and it will dismay the late actor’s legion of devoted fans.

Writing in the Spectator magazine, historian Gavin Mortimer, who has written an authoritative history of the SAS in World War II, dismisses the notion that Lee ever served with the Long Range Desert Group, the SAS or SOE.

‘In reality, he served in none,’ Mortimer states. ‘He was attached to the SAS and SOE as an RAF liaison officer at various times between 1943 and 1945, but did not serve in them.’

Mortimer also scoffs at the idea that Lee was not able to discuss his work.

‘Nonsense,’ he says. ‘Wartime members of those Special Forces units are not — and never have been — prevented from discussing operations.’ At first sight, Mortimer’s observations run the risk of appearing picky and of speaking ill of the dead. But I believe he is right and, what’s more, he is only scratching the surface of Christopher Lee’s deceit.

When I wrote the obituary of Lee for the Mail last month, I was immediately struck by his apparently remarkable war record.

Like Mortimer, I was highly sceptical that the actor had served with the Long Range Desert Group, the SAS and SOE, and I suspected his involvement with these units amounted to little more than temporary liaison roles as part of his RAF duties.

As I read more about Lee, including his own words in his autobiography Lord Of Misrule, and watched many of his TV interviews, it became apparent the actor had become seriously confused between his own myths and reality. Frankly, it was as if his entire wartime service was a movie in which he played the star.

And it wasn’t only his supposed involvement with those three special services units that looked positively iffy: there were other elements of his war years that smelled fishy. Let’s take them in chronological order.

Decorated: Christopher Lee was knighted in 2009. Despite boasting a remarkable war record, Guy Walters writes he was 'highly sceptical' of his claims of involvement in three special services units

At the outbreak of war in September 1939, 17-year-old Lee was working as a clerk in a shipping firm in London, earning £1 per week — the equivalent of £250 today.

After a few weeks, he tried to join the Army, but was turned down. His account of what happened next is remarkable. Lee stated in his autobiography that ‘along with a few other recent schoolboys’ he journeyed all the way to Finland to volunteer in the Finns’ war against the Soviet Union.

In his memoir, he said they were not only given uniforms, but were taken to the front, where he and his friends spent a fortnight before going home, apparently in time for Christmas.

But in an interview a few years ago, he had changed his description of his exploits, suggesting he never actually got to the front.

‘We went there with a group of friends and said we wanted to help,’ he said. ‘We could shoot pretty well, but couldn’t ski. We were thanked for our help, but didn’t, of course, get anywhere close to the border.’

Though it is possible Lee did travel to Finland, it is exceedingly unlikely. Up to 8,500 Britons did volunteer to help the Finns, but only around 200 made it to Finland, and it is generally understood they arrived the year after Lee had supposedly come and gone.

Besides, it is extremely implausible the Finns would have accepted a party of schoolboys to come and fight.

Nevertheless, Lee did get his chance to do his bit and was commissioned into the RAF in January 1943.

Act: Christopher Lee as Dracula in 1972. People were perhaps too sacred of contradicting Lee when he claimed to have worked with daring military units including the No 1 Demolition Squad

Until the end of the war, the man who would be Dracula served with the air force as an intelligence officer, briefing and debriefing pilots, and liaising with other units.

It was during this time that he claimed to have served in some way with the Long Range Desert Group and the SAS.

As Gavin Mortimer has shown, there is simply no evidence to support this. Lee may have worked alongside these units in some way, but he was emphatically not a part of them.

‘Lee didn’t exactly lie,’ says Mortimer. ‘But he did lead us on, encouraging us to believe [his job] had involved more derring-do than it actually did.’

In an interview he gave to Belgian television to promote Lord Of The Rings, Lee claimed also to have served with a small special forces organisation called No 1 Demolition Squadron, better known as Popski’s Private Army (PPA) after its charismatic leader Major Vladimir Peniakoff.

Like the Long Range Desert Group and the SAS, the PPA was a raiding and reconnaissance unit, and its exploits are venerated by many.

Again, there is no hard evidence to support Lee’s claim that he worked with the PPA.

According to Roy Paterson, the secretary of the Friends of PPA, there is no mention of Lee in the unit’s war diary.

The only suggestion that Lee was even associated with the PPA came from the actor himself, who told Paterson he had visited the unit when it was stationed in Cervia, in Italy, in April 1945.

‘This is admittedly thin, but when Lee joined the Friends of the PPA and even became one of our patrons, his membership of the PPA was never challenged,’ Paterson acknowledges.

Perhaps people were too scared of contradicting a man such as Lee, who was not only a global film star, but also a knight of the realm.

This was doubtless also the reason why his supposed membership of SOE was never challenged. According to many accounts, Lee worked behind enemy lines in Yugoslavia and helped fight alongside the resistance led by Tito.

Again, this is another story that is just too good to be true.

For a start, the absence of an SOE personnel file bearing Lee’s name at the National Archives in Kew is problematic. It is possible that the file was destroyed, but the fact not one member of SOE in the Balkans has ever confirmed Lee’s story is grounds for serious scepticism.

Finally, we come to Lee’s role as a Nazi hunter. In his autobiography, he claims to have joined a unit called the Central Registry of War Crimes and Security Suspects (CROWCASS), being tasked with hunting Nazi war criminals throughout Germany and Austria.

Unfortunately, this cannot be true, as the members of CROWCASS were based behind desks in Paris or Berlin. Their role was to assemble evidence —they were most emphatically not scouring the remnants of the Third Reich and concentration camps for Nazis.

Claims: In his autobiography Lee said he joined a unit Central Registry of War Crimes and Security Suspects (CROWCASS), being tasked with hunting Nazi war criminals throughout Germany and Austria

When I wrote a history of Nazi hunting a few years ago, I had the privilege of interviewing the few surviving members of the British War Crimes Unit, whose job it was to actually go out and hunt Nazis.

Not one of them mentioned, as one might suspect they would, that Lee had been one of their comrades.

Furthermore, I have several lists of War Crimes Unit personnel and Lee’s name does not appear on one of them.

Therefore, the idea that Lee was touring Germany and Austria and visiting concentration camps — as he would claim so movingly in many interviews — beggars belief.

Like Gavin Mortimer, I think that Lee has ‘buffed up’ his membership of perfectly respectable units in order to give the appearance that he was involved in similar, but far more exciting work.

After all, Lee would not be the only famous person to have done so.

When the astronomer Sir Patrick Moore died in December 2012, much was made of the fact that he had lied about his age and joined the RAF when he was 16.

But I obtained his RAF record and found that he had, in fact, joined when he was approaching 19. Moore also claimed to have been involved in ‘intelligence work’ during the war, in a secret unit that he called ‘The Ten’, and which, according to one of his closest friends, Ian Makins, went on missions into occupied Europe.

‘He said there were several sticky moments when he was in mortal danger,’ says Makins.

‘Most of Patrick’s injuries — losing his teeth, the damage to his spine — were from the war.’

Again, this story is impossibly tall, and there is nothing on Moore’s RAF record to support that he was ever absent from his commendably courageous work as an RAF navigator on bombing missions. And herein lies a great mystery. Why do those such as Lee and Moore, who served bravely and well, feel the need to embellish their experiences with tales of daring missions that are conveniently secret?

After all, we are not dealing with the likes of those risible Walter Mitty figures — or ‘Walts’ — who attend provincial Remembrance Day parades bearing chestfuls of bogus Victoria Crosses.

Perhaps, though, the psychology is similar. Men like Lee have big egos and they want to be stars. They find it frustrating when their wartime achievements are not suitably stellar and, as a result, they start hinting that they might have been.

After many years, the insinuations and small fibs build up like many coats of varnish.

By the time they reach old age, the stories — now blown out of proportion — have solidified and become accepted, not least because they now match the size of their star personalities.

In his heart, Lee would have known this. Perhaps he might have rationalised it by stating he was giving the public what they wanted.

Ultimately, it was just another act — but he certainly played it well.

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