Monopoly, that iconic game that turns 84 years old this March, wasn’t always the innocent game played on kitchen tables and front porches on hot summer days. It once had a fascinating cloak-and-dagger role in World War II.

Monopoly has become the king of board games, sold in countries around the world, with sets unique to each country it’s distributed to. For instance, the highest priced property on the playing board is called “Boardwalk” in America, but it’s “Paseao del Prado” in Spain, and “Rue de la Paix” in France.

Monopoly is indeed worldwide, with championships played every year in places like Tokyo, Monte Carlo, Toronto, Las Vegas and Macao.

The game has been fun and fascinating in all of its incarnations over the years, including San Francisco jeweler Sidney Mobell’s glamorous model worth $2 million, and Neiman Marcus’s chocolate renderings that sold for $600 each. One would imagine that a go-round with a chocolate version couldn’t last very long, but the longest game on record for a non-edible set lasted 70 days.

Still, Monopoly’s most intriguing role came during World War II, when it was recruited as a covert tool of war.

Christopher Hutton was an intelligence officer who worked for British Military Intelligence during war. His job was to create hidden escape tools. He hid compasses in uniform coat buttons and maps in hollow boot heels for pilots, and he was very good at hiding things in common goods sent to prisoners of war.

Hutton was working with Waddington, Ltd., to develop silk maps when the company bought the United Kingdom rights to Parker Brothers’ Monopoly. The clever and creative Hutton had an idea.

Under his guidance, Waddington created a top secret workshop that re-designed the game’s packaging to hide tools and money that could aid in prison escapes.

Workers sworn to secrecy ingeniously attached a tiny compass in the base of a playing piece, and silk maps and metal files were placed in shallow compartments concealed under the playing surface label.

Foreign currency was hidden within the piles of Monopoly money, labeled for particular regions, and identified by a code on the box.

“The money piles were real money, with one piece of Monopoly money on the top and bottom of the pack”, according to Victor Watson, Waddington chairman until 1993.

The money would be used by escaped prisoners on the run for food and train tickets as the maps guided them hundreds of miles across hostile territory, often in winter.

The Geneva Convention allowed POWs to receive packages, and, ironically in this case, the Germans preferred prisoners were kept occupied playing games rather than devising escapes, which many were actively committed to. British Intelligence created a number of fictitious charitable organizations to send “care parcels” to the prisoners, including the Monopoly escape kits, identified by an innocuous red dot placed in the “Free Parking” square on the board.

By then, secret information exchange through coded letters was routine between captured servicemen and their home offices. POWs were informed of the games and advised to destroy them after removing the tools, to avoid detection by the enemy.

ABC News covered a 1970 ceremony where Waddington’s Watson met with POWs who had used the Monopoly maps to escape. The secret game was officially declassified in 2007.

Watson said at the time: “We reckon that 10,000 prisoners used the Monopoly maps.”

The Monopoly board has a space that says “In Jail, Just Visiting.” How appropriate, in hindsight.

John Steward lives in Waterford and can be reached at tossinglines@gmail.com, or visit www.johnsteward.online.