SPIES AND THEIR WORK
For years we have heard of the efficiency of the Wilhelmstrasse,
or Secret Service Police of Germany, and everything we have heard
regarding them has proved fairly accurate, sometimes even beyond our
wildest expectations. The Spy System of the German Government is a
wonderful organization, any way we look at it. Since 1870 it has been
in the making. Its agents are everywhere, they speak all languages
fluently. This enables them to carry on their systematic work of
uncovering every fact, rumor, or suspicion that may be of importance to
the German Government.
England and France particularly, and all countries in general, have had
convincing demonstrations of the thoroughness of German Secret Service
activity for many years. Since the war broke out, they have been doing
everything in their power to cope with the situation.
Now that we are at war with Germany, it is well to remember that in
this country, as well as in those of our Allies, secret agents of
the German Government are constantly seeking information. Therefore,
one of the greatest injustices the people of this country can do our
Government is to impart any information to anyone except a government
representative. Our friends who may be inclined to talk too much
should be warned in a friendly way to say nothing. We can never tell
who is sitting next to us in a train, car, boat, or any other public
conveyance, and the little remark seemingly of no consequence, that
passes your unsuspecting lips, may be the nucleus around which the
spider may weave his web.
There is no reason in the world why your friends or relatives in the
American Expeditionary Forces over seas should not be permitted to
write you in detail all those things that form part of their daily
experience. Moreover, there is no reason for maintaining such a thing
as a censor.
[Illustration: Sacked and Burned]
[Illustration: Badonviller Destroyed by the Germans]
If all mail and information could be delivered into the hands of the
ones they are meant for, I am sure there would be no reason for such
strict regulations, but there is no assurance that letters will not
go astray and information fall into the hands of our enemies. And,
besides, there are a lot of people who unconsciously reveal things that
are written to them, and in this way information gets out broadcast,
which, in many instances, proves most harmful to proposed military
operations. Therefore, we have the censor who keeps these matters under
control and thereby eliminates a very fruitful source of information
from falling into the hands of our enemies.
In France one is particularly attracted by placards on cars, station
platforms, and streets, flashing these words, “_Teshez Vous_,”
which mean “Close your mouth.” In other words, “The enemy is
everywhere.”
The sooner the people of this country “_Teshez Vous_,” the sooner
they will begin to deprive the people who are seeking information of
one of their richest sources. Remember the enemy is everywhere.
It is most surprising to find by what dark and devious paths one may be
approached when one’s information is valuable enough to be required,
and the only sure way to keep from dropping threads of such information
is to know nothing, and to discuss nothing with people one does not
know—we cannot rely even on friends. We all have fool friends.
Just before leaving Paris, for example, I became acquainted with a man
whom I remember very clearly as frequenting a certain café, posing
always as a Hollander, but for a great many years past a resident of
New York City. He manifested a great interest in American soldiers, and
I have heard him ask the boys such questions as “How many Americans do
you suppose there are now in France?” “How many boys in your camp?”
“Where are you located?” “Are you specializing in any particular branch
of fighting?” and a great many other questions along the same lines.
As a demonstration of his sincere friendship for the American boys, he
would say “Let me pay for this check.” “Let’s have another one for dear
old America.”
Suddenly he disappeared. I afterwards learned that he had been quietly
camouflaged by the police and that he would not be around again soon
manifesting so much interest in what America might be going to do.
It is very clear now to most people what took place in the case of a
female German spy, a conspicuous figure in Paris, always seen in the
characteristic garb of a South American lady. She was never known to
wear a hat, and was seldom seen without the typical mantilla, thrown
over her straight, black hair. She had plenty of money, a Rolls-Royce
always at her command, and everything that would allay the slightest
suspicion that she might be an agent of the German Government.
Her game was meeting officers and seeking information from them.
Working as agents with her were charming chorus girls from one of the
most noted theaters in Paris. It was she who obtained the information
regarding the extensive building program of English tanks and forwarded
it to Germany. From her jaunty appearance, she was the last one to be
suspected, but she turned out to be one of France’s most dangerous
enemies, and paid the price with her life before a firing squad in a
French prison during the early part of last October.
When the Germans advanced on Paris in the early stages of the war,
located in the department of the Oise some thirty kilometers from that
city was the old chateau Bornel Bon Eglise, where was stationed a
French garrison to resist the invader at that point. As the German Army
advanced, the French garrison retired to this chateau, in preparation
for the stand to be made when protected by its walls.
Everything was in readiness for the attack, when, at the psychological
moment, the gates of this castle were suddenly thrown open and
the Boches captured the chateau with very little trouble. Upon
investigation it was afterwards found that the gatekeeper, a trusted
employee for many years, had been planted here for just such a service
should the occasion ever arise when it would be necessary for someone
to accomplish just the thing he did.
Such conditions can, without stretching one’s imagination very far, be
laid at the door of German Secret Service Agents. That is the kind of
preparedness the Germans had been fostering for forty years.
In a little village on the eastern front of France this year two
soldiers on observation duty in a front-line trench noticed a small
white dog roaming about “No Man’s Land.” They followed his trail with
much interest, and the last seen of him he was going under the French
barbed wire toward the rear of the lines.
Nothing was thought of the wanderings of this dog until two nights
later, when the same two men who happened to be on duty again observed
the same dog crossing “No Man’s Land” and crawling under the German
wire. This aroused their suspicion, and, as they came off watch, the
incident was reported to the lieutenant, but he thought nothing of
it, as with all armies there are mongrel pets belonging to soldiers.
However, a few nights later the same dog was again seen back in the
French lines. This caused enough curiosity to bring him under closer
observation, as it was quite unusual that a dog should frequent “No
Man’s Land” with such regularity.
That same night, in the glow of a star shell, our canine friend was
seen wending his way toward the German trenches, and so orders were
immediately issued to all the front line not to shoot the dog, as the
command wished to investigate the haunts of the animal that seemed to
choose “No Man’s Land” as his favorite playground.
A few nights later our canine friend again appeared, and was seen
crawling under the French wire and jumping over the front-line
trenches, on his way back toward a little French village behind the
lines. A couple of soldiers were detailed to follow him, which they
did at a distance not calculated to alarm the dog, who walked along
at a business-like gait until the outskirts of the town was reached.
Then, with the suddenness of chain lightning, the dog bolted around
a demolished wall down a side street and was lost to the view of his
observers. It was impossible for his pursuers to give any information
as to what had become of him.
It happened that he was again seen that same night, returning under
the wires and disappearing behind the German line. These facts called
for carefully laid plans by the Division Headquarters to intercept the
dog in order to know more about his peculiar movements. After waiting
a few nights he was seen coming for the French lines and was allowed
to pass unmolested, several men having been secreted along the line
that he was now known to travel up to a certain point. On came the dog
in his business-like way until, again reaching the outskirts of the
city, he broke into a run at top speed, dodged around tumbled-down
dwellings, side streets, over walls, and again was lost to view. But on
his return he was caught, and tucked away in his collar was a map drawn
very small, but showing in detail the positions of some of the French
batteries behind the lines at a certain point.
The paper was put back in his collar and the dog allowed to proceed
on his way, for if he returned to the German lines minus this paper
it would immediately cause suspicion that he had been interfered with
and might end his visits before the one sending the information could
be caught. Orders were immediately dispatched to the battery mentioned
in the communication to change its position. The next day brought the
German shells to the exact location where the paper in the dog’s collar
had indicated this battery to be, but, of course, no damage was done,
as the battery had been moved during the night.
A very careful watch was now kept for this dog, and, a few nights
later, he was captured and a very fine thread tied to his collar in
the hopes that it might be traced to the place where the information
originated. The dog was permitted to proceed as soon as the thread was
securely fastened to him, but when he felt the weight of the thread
pulling on his collar he turned and retraced his steps. The thread was
broken and the dog released in the hope that he would return for the
information, but he balked and was soon back in the German lines.
The return of the dog without information must have caused a change
of plans, as the dog did not appear again for several days. Finally
he appeared, and in readiness for him was a French police dog, which
was immediately put on his trail. The police dog, being allowed to
go a little too soon, caught up with the German dog at the edge of
the village. Here the German dog had always broken into a run, and,
of course, the police dog became excited and downed the German dog in
his tracks. Before they could be interfered with, the spy dog was very
badly mutilated. Thus ended his visits.
Although merely a dumb animal he seemed to possess almost human
intelligence, winning the respect of the French army men. It was not
their intention that harm should befall him and they were much grieved
that he went back to his own a cripple for life.
Carrier pigeons are employed as messengers in the spy service of the
German Army. While in Paris I was with a captain of English artillery
who became a very close friend. He related to me the following account
of how his battery was sent into action on a certain sector which I
know will prove of interest.
On a certain day orders were received from his Division Headquarters to
take up a position near the village of R——. The battery responded
quickly and occupied the location for two days. It was most noticeable
that very few shells came that way. On the morning of the third day
quite a little aerial activity was evident, but nothing much was
thought of it. The position seemed to be very secure, as it was in
quite a heavy clump of woods. But shortly after noon the shells began
breaking closer and closer until they got so hot that the position
became untenable. Consequently the battery was moved to another clump
of woods quite a distance away, where again all was quiet.
Next morning the captain was much surprised to see a peasant with two
horses ploughing in the field just back of the new position and also
that the Boche aviators were again hovering over the lines. Shortly
after noon, as on the day previous, shells began to drop around the new
location and in the field behind. It appeared to the Captain that it
must be a pretty hot place for a farmer to be ploughing so serenely,
therefore, he stepped out of the woods to investigate, but found the
farmer had gone. The shells were coming in so close to the battery
position that it was again found necessary to move, this time to a very
heavily wooded location further on to the right. After the move was
completed all became quiet again.
The following morning the Captain observed the same peasant ploughing
again in the field and also that an unusual aerial activity had opened
near his new location. It seemed necessary to investigate so he went
back to the location first occupied by his battery and found a double
furrow ploughed behind the old battery position. Further observation
disclosed the same double furrow directly behind the second location,
and now the third furrow was being run. Sure enough these furrows were
signals to the sky pilots, for shortly afterwards shells began to land
around the new location, but the peasant was nowhere to be found.
On orders quickly given the battery was at once moved back into the
original position.
With the morning came the same peasant with his two horses and plough,
but he had run his last furrow on this earth the day before. A blow
with an iron wrench ended his activities forever. That afternoon enemy
aeroplanes hovered overhead, awaiting the new furrow that was never
ploughed.