CONFESSIONS OF AN AMERICAN SPY AND BRAVERY OF BUFFALO SCHOOLBOYS
On December 26th I received a cable from the London _Times_ instructing
me to try for another interview with the Crown Prince and to question him
on the effect that this Boston victory might have upon the German
campaign in America. Would there be retaliatory measures? Would German
warships bombard Boston from the sea?
I journeyed at once to Chicago and made my appeal to Brigadier General
George T. Langhorne, who had been military attache at Berlin in 1915 and
was now in charge of the Imperial prisoner. The Crown Prince and his
staff occupied the seventh floor of the Hotel Blackstone.
“I’m sorry,” said General Langhorne, after he had presented my request.
“The Crown Prince has no statement to make at present. But there is
another German prisoner who wishes to speak to you. I suppose it’s all
right as you have General Wood’s permission. He says he has met you
before--Colonel von Dusenberg.”
“Colonel von Dusenberg?”
“He is on the Crown Prince’s staff. In here.” I opened a heavy door and
found myself in a large dimly lighted room.
“Mr. Langston!”
The voice was familiar and, turning, I stared in amazement; for there,
dressed as an officer of the Prussian guard, stood the man I had rescued
in the Caribbean Sea, the brother of the girl I had seen in Washington,
Lieutenant Randolph Ryerson of the United States navy. He had let his
moustache grow, but I recognised him at once.
“You?” I stood looking at him and saw that his face was deathly white.
“Yes. I--I’m in trouble and--I have things to tell you,” he stammered.
“Sit down.”
I sat down and lighted a cigarette. I kept thinking how much he looked
like his sister.
“Ryerson, what the devil are you doing in that Prussian uniform?”
He turned away miserably, then he forced himself to face me.
“I’ll get the worst over first. I don’t care what happens to me
and--anyway I--I’m a spy.”
“A spy?”
He nodded. “In the service of the Germans. It was through me they knew
about Widding’s invention to destroy their fleet. It was through me that
Edison and Widding were abducted. I meant to disappear--that’s why I
joined von Hindenburg’s army, but--we were captured and--here I am.”
He looked at me helplessly as I blew out a cloud of smoke.
“How is this possible? How did it happen? How, Ryerson?” I gasped in
amazement.
He shook his head. “What’s the use? It was money and--there’s a woman in
it.”
“Go on.”
“That’s all. I fell for one of their damnable schemes to get information.
It was three years ago on the Mediterranean cruise of our Atlantic
squadron. I met this woman in Marseilles.”
“Well?”
“She called herself the Countess de Matignon, and--I was a young
lieutenant and--I couldn’t resist her. Nobody could. She wanted money and
I gave her all I had; then I gambled to get more. She wanted information
about the American fleet, about our guns and coast defences; unimportant
things at first, but pretty soon they were important and--I was crazy
about her and--swamped with debts and--I yielded. Within six months she
owned me. I was a German spy, mighty well paid, too. God!”
I stared at him in dismay. I could not speak.
“Well, after the war broke out between Germany and America last April,
this woman came to New York and got her clutches on me deeper than ever.
I gave her some naval secrets, and six weeks ago I told her all I knew
about Widding’s invention. You see what kind of a dog I am,” he concluded
bitterly.
“Ryerson, why have you told me this?” I asked searchingly.
“Why?” He flashed a straightforward look out of his handsome eyes.
“Because I’m sick of the whole rotten game. I’ve played my cards and
lost. I’m sure to be found out--some navy man will recognise me, in spite
of this moustache, and--you know what will happen then. I’ll be glad of
it, but--before I quit the game I want to do one decent thing. I’m going
to tell you where they’ve taken Edison.”
“You know where Edison is?”
“Yes. Don’t speak so loud.”
Ryerson leaned closer and whispered: “He’s in Richmond, Virginia.”
Silently I studied this unhappy man, wondering if he was telling the
truth. He must have felt my doubts.
“Langston, you don’t believe me! Why should I lie to you? I tell you I
want to make amends. These German officers trust me. I know their plans
and--Oh, my God, aren’t you going to believe me?”
“Go on,” I said, impressed by the genuineness of his despair. “What plans
do you know?”
“I know the Germans are disturbed by this patriotic spirit in America.
They’re afraid of it. They don’t know where hell may break loose
next--after Boston. They’re going to leave Boston alone, everything alone
for the present--until they get their new army.”
“New army?”
“Yes--from Germany. They have sent for half a million more men. They’ll
have ‘em here in a month and--that’s why I want to do something--before
it’s too late.”
As I watched him I began to believe in his sincerity. Handsome fellow! I
can see him now with his flushed cheeks and pleading eyes. A spy! It
would break his sister’s heart.
“What can you do?” I asked sceptically.
He looked about him cautiously and lowered his voice.
“I can get Edison away from the Germans, and Edison can destroy their
fleet.”
“Perhaps,” said I.
“He says he can.”
“I know, but--you say Edison is in Richmond.”
“We can rescue him. If you’ll only help me, Langston, we can rescue
Edison. I’ll go to Richmond with papers to the commanding German general
that will get me anything.”
“Papers as a German spy?”
“Well--yes.”
“You can’t get to Richmond. You’re a prisoner yourself.”
“That’s where you’re going to help me. You must do it--for the
country--for my sister.”
[Illustration: AND ON THE MORNING OF JULY 4, TWO OF VON KLUCK’S STAFF
OFFICERS, ACCOMPANIED BY A MILITARY ESCORT, MARCHED DOWN STATE STREET TO
ARRANGE FOR THE PAYMENT OF AN INDEMNITY FROM THE CITY OF BOSTON OF THREE
HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS.]
“Does your sister know--what you are?”
He looked away, and I saw his lips tighten and his hands clench.
“No!”
“Do you want me to tell her?”
He thought a moment.
“What’s the use of hiding it? She’s bound to know some day, and--she’ll
be glad I’ve had this little flicker of--decency. Besides, she may have
an idea. Mary’s got a good head on her. Poor kid!”
I told Ryerson that I would think the matter over and find some way to
communicate with him later. Then I left him.
I telegraphed at once to Miss Ryerson, who hurried to Chicago, arriving
the next morning, and we spent most of that day together, discussing the
hard problem before us. The girl was wonderfully brave when I told her
the truth about her brother. She said there were circumstances in his
early life that lessened the heinousness of his wrong doing. And she
rejoiced that he was going to make amends. She knew he was absolutely
sincere.
I suggested that we go to General Wood, who was friendly to both of us,
and tell him the whole truth, but Miss Ryerson would not hear to this.
She would not place Randolph’s life in jeopardy by revealing the fact
that he had been a German spy. Her brother must make good before he could
hope to be trusted or forgiven.
“But he’s a prisoner; he can do nothing unless he has his liberty,” I
objected.
“We will get him his liberty; we _must_ get it, but not that way.”
“Then how?”
For a long time we studied this question in all its phases. How could
Lieutenant Ryerson gain his liberty? How could he get a chance to make
amends for his treachery? And, finally, seeing no other way, we fell back
upon the desperate expedient of an exchange. I would obtain permission
for Miss Ryerson to visit her brother, and they would change clothes, she
remaining as a prisoner in his place while he went forth to undo if
possible the harm that he had done.
The details of this plan we arranged immediately. I saw Ryerson the next
day, and when I told him what his sister was resolved to do in the hope
of saving his honour, he cried like a child and I felt more than ever
convinced of his honest repentance.
We decided upon December 28th for the attempt, and two days before this
Randolph found a plausible excuse for cutting off his moustache. He told
General Langhorne that he had become a convert to the American fashion of
a clean shaven face.
As to the escape itself, I need only say that on December 28th, in the
late afternoon, I escorted Miss Ryerson, carefully veiled, to the Hotel
Blackstone; and an hour later I left the hotel with a person in women’s
garments, also carefully veiled. And that night Randolph Ryerson and I
started for Richmond. I may add that I should never have found the
courage to leave that lovely girl in such perilous surroundings had she
not literally commanded me to go.
“We may be saving the nation,” she begged. “Go! Go! And--I’ll be thinking
of you--praying for you--for you both.”
My heart leaped before the wonder of her eyes as she looked at me and
repeated these last words: _“For you both!”_
We left the express at Pittsburg, intending to proceed by automobile
across Pennsylvania, then by night through the mountains of West Virginia
and Virginia; for, of course, we had to use the utmost caution to avoid
the sentries of both armies which were spread over this region.
In Pittsburg we lunched at the Hotel Duquesne, after which Ryerson left
me for a few hours, saying that he wished to look over the ground and
also to procure the services of a high-powered touring car.
“Don’t take any chances,” I said anxiously.
“I’ll be careful. I’ll be back inside of two hours,” he promised.
But two hours, four hours, six hours passed and he did not come. I dined
alone, sick at heart, wondering if I had made a ghastly mistake.
It was nearly ten o’clock that night when Ryerson came back after seven
hours’ absence. We went to our room immediately, and he told me what had
happened, the gist of it being that he had discovered important news that
might change our plans.
“These people trust me absolutely,” he said. “They tell me everything.”
“You mean--German spies?”
“Yes. Pittsburg is full of ‘em. They’re plotting to wreck the big steel
plants and factories here that are making war munitions. I’ll know more
about that later, but the immediate thing is Niagara Falls.”
Then Ryerson gave me my first hint of a brilliant coup that had been
preparing for months by the Committee of Twenty-one and the American high
command, its purpose being to strike a deadly and spectacular blow at the
German fleet.
“This is the closest kind of a secret, it’s the great American hope; but
the Germans know all about it,” he declared.
“Go on.”
“It’s a big air-ship, the America, a super-Zeppelin, six hundred feet
long, with apparatus for steering small submarines by radio control--no
men aboard. Understand?”
“You mean no men aboard the submarine?”
“Of course. There will be a whole crew on the air-ship. Nicola Tesla and
John Hays Hammond, Jr., worked out the idea, and Edison was to give the
last touches; but as Edison is a German prisoner, they can’t wait for
him. They are going to try the thing on New Year’s night against the
German dreadnought _Wilhelm II_ in Boston Harbour.”
“Blow up the _Wilhelm II_?”
“Yes, but the Germans are warned in advance. You can’t beat their
underground information bureau. They’re going to strike first.”
“Where is this air-ship?”
“On Grand Island, in the Niagara River, all inflated, ready to sail, but
she never will sail unless we get busy. After tomorrow night there won’t
be any _America_.”
In the face of this critical situation, I saw that we must postpone our
trip to Richmond and, having obtained from Ryerson full details of the
German plot to destroy the _America_, I took the first train for Niagara
Falls--after arranging with my friend to rejoin him in Pittsburg a few
days later--and was able to give warning to Colonel Charles D. Kilbourne
of Fort Niagara in time to avert this catastrophe.
The Germans knew that Grand Island was guarded by United States troops
and that the river surrounding it was patrolled by sentry launches; but
the island was large, sixteen miles long and seven miles wide, and under
cover of darkness it was a simple matter for swimmers to pass unobserved
from shore to shore.
On the night of December 30th, 1921, in spite of the cold, five hundred
German spies had volunteered to risk their lives in this adventure. They
were to swim silently from the American and Canadian shores, each man
pushing before him a powerful fire bomb protected in a water-proof case;
then, having reached the island, these five hundred were to advance
stealthily upon the hangar where the great air-ship, fully inflated, was
straining at her moorings. When the rush came, at a pre-arranged signal,
many would be killed by American soldiers surrounding the building, but
some would get through and accomplish their mission. One successful fire
bomb would do the work.
Against this danger Colonel Kilbourne provided in a simple way. Instead
of sending more troops to guard the island, which might have aroused
German suspicions, he arranged to have two hundred boys, members of the
Athletic League of the Buffalo Public Schools, go to Grand Island
apparently for skating and coasting parties. It was brisk vacation
weather and no one thought it strange that the little ferry boat from
Buffalo carried bands of lively youngsters across the river for these
seasonable pleasures. It was not observed that the boat also carried
rifles and ammunition which the boys had learned to use, in months of
drill and strenuous target practice, with the skill of regulars.
There followed busy hours on Grand Island as we made ready for the
crisis. About midnight, five hundred Germans, true to their vow, landed
at various points, and crept forward through the darkness, carrying their
bombs. As they reached a circle a thousand yards from the huge hangar
shed they passed unwittingly two hundred youthful riflemen who had dug
themselves in under snow and branches and were waiting, thrilling for the
word that would show what American boys can do for their country. Two
hundred American boys on the thousand yard circle! A hundred American
soldiers with rifles and machine guns at the hangar! And the Germans
between!
We had learned from Ryerson that the enemy would make their rush at two
o’clock in the morning, the signal being a siren shriek from the Canadian
shore, so at a quarter before two, knowing that the Germans were surely
in the trap, Colonel Kilbourne gave the word, and, suddenly, a dozen
search-lights swept the darkness with pitiless glare. American rifles
spoke from behind log shelters, Maxims rattled their deadly blast, and
the Germans, caught between two fires, fled in confusion, dropping their
bombs. As they approached the thousand-yard line they found new enemies
blocking their way, keen-eyed youths whose bullets went true to the mark.
And the end of it was, leaving aside dead and wounded, that _two hundred
Buffalo schoolboys made prisoners of the three hundred and fifty German
veterans!_
And the great seven-million dollar air-ship _America_, with all her radio
mysteries, was left unharmed, ready to sail forth the next night, New
Year’s Eve, and make her attack upon the superdreadnought Wilhelm II, on
January 1, 1922. I prayed that this would be a happier year for the
United States than 1921 had been.