I was fascinated to learn that J.L. Austin was a major figure in British intelligence during the second world war, with a particular focus on drawing out the operational implications of intelligence. I find it hard to read about this and not infer that his sensitivity for how to do things with words must have been shaped by managing the diffusion of this knowledge during the war:
But in 1942 he took over the direction, at G.H.Q. Home Forces, of a small section which had recently been formed, to do the preliminary intelligence work for an invasion of Western Europe; and this was the field in which he became an unrivalled authority. His section, whose earlier days had been rather haphazard, was soon operating with method, rapidity, and a clear purpose. Though his standards were exacting, those under his command were enlivened by the confident sense of solid work getting done, of real progress being made. Professor A.J. Beattie, who served with Austin at this time, records that ‘his superiors in rank very quickly learned that he was an outstanding authority on all branches of intelligence work, and they soon depended on his advice far more than would normally have been considered proper in any headquarters’.
In the following year Austin’s section was vastly enlarged and transferred, under the name of the Theatre Intelligence Section, to 21st Army Group. Of this larger affair Austin as a Major – and later, when S.H.A.E.F. was formed, a Lt.-Col. – was of course not formally in command; but by this time his knowledge was so voluminous, his expertise so great, and his judgement so highly valued, that in practice he continued in charge of all the work. Before D-Day he had accumulated a vast quantity of information on the coast defences of northern France, on the base areas, supplies, formations, and transport system behind them, and indeed on every aspect of the German defence forces and civilian administration in that ‘theatre’. Weekly, and later daily, reports were issued recording changes in the German dispositions; and a kind of guidebook was compiled for the use of the invading troops, in whose title – Invade Mecum – those who know Austin’s writings will recognize his style. It has been said of him that he directed this huge volume of work ‘without ever getting into serious difficulty of any kind’ and, more impressively, that ‘he more than anybody was responsible for the life-saving accuracy of the D-Day Intelligence’.
https://www.thebritishacademy.ac.uk/publishing/memoirs/pba-49/austin-john-langshaw-1911-1960/#:~:text=He%20left%20the%20Army%20in,service%20of%20the%20highest%20value.
Thanks to Milan Sturmer for pointing out there’s a book about this, recently reviewed in the LRB by Thomas Nagel:
Austin died of cancer in 1960 at the age of 48. Though he published only a handful of substantial essays during his lifetime, there are also significant posthumous publications, and Austin’s philosophical ideas, the power of his personal influence and his central position in the philosophical developments of his time make him a natural subject for an intellectual biography. But M.W. Rowe’s book isn’t just an intellectual biography. He has discovered that Austin was one of the most important Allied military intelligence officers during the Second World War, overseeing the team that made the Normandy landings possible. More than a third of the book is taken up with Austin’s five years in the army, and with the achievements he never talked about, even to his wife.
https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v45/n17/thomas-nagel/leader-of-the-martians
Mark Carrigan 