The Spy Net

by Henry Landau

  Anxiously we waited for news. Each week contact was established with the cafe owner or ‘letter box’ in Antwerp, which was connected to our tuyau at the frontier by means of a courier. At the end of the third week, Oram brought us the first news, in the form of a train-watching report from a post at Ilerent, just outside Louvain, on the Louvain–Brussels line. It was written in indian ink on the typical service papier pelure, fine tissue paper, so that the courier could hide the report in his hat band, lining of his clothes, shoes, or elsewhere, in case he was stopped and searched on his way from the letter box to the frontier. In addition to this report there was word from van Bergen that he was trying to mount other posts, but that it was difficult, as he had not only to find the right men, but also persons who had houses overlooking the railway line. Shortly afterwards, he established another train-watching post at Louvain on the Liège line. We were now getting all the traffic passing through Louvain, since by subtraction we could get the traffic along the relatively unimportant Louvain–Malines line.

  The reports came through regularly for four months. Van Bergen wrote hopefully of friends at Ghent, who had promised to mount posts there. I was much pleased, for some of our other organisations had just started sending out their first reports, and gradually the network was spreading. Suddenly we heard that our courier from Antwerp to the frontier had been arrested. Later, from another Antwerp agent, whom we had asked to investigate the affair, we found that the owner of the cafe who had acted as letter box or contact man, had also been caught. We never heard from van Bergen again. After the Armistice, on my arrival in Brussels, I discovered that he had been shot, together with our two Antwerp men and the men who had been working for him in Louvain.

  What led to his arrest, I was never able to find out for certain. It was obvious, however, that since neither van Bergen’s nor the Antwerp frontier courier’s identity was known to the letter box, nor that of the courier to van Bergen, the German Secret Police must have delayed making an arrest until they had followed all the active threads of the organisation. I am of the opinion that van Bergen himself was probably the first one to be caught. Well dressed, and with the obvious appearance of a gentleman, his association with the railwaymen whom he employed as train-watchers, and with the Antwerp cafe owner, who catered chiefly for boatmen in the poorer quarters of the city, may have attracted attention. We had advised him to secure an intermediary to reach these men, and to content himself with directing and keeping in the background, but he had probably not heeded our warning. A German agent may have followed him or his courier to the letter box, and there seen him handing over the reports. The Germans had probably proceeded, according to their usual method, to seize anyone making any contact whatever with an agent whom they had under suspicion. Our problem was that of the kidnapper trying to collect money from the relatives of his victim, with the police looking on. We were never able to solve this problem completely. All that we could do to avert the Frankignoul catastrophe and the complete stoppage of information coming out of Belgium was to follow our cumbersome plan of having a dozen organisations functioning at the same time, each group being entirely independent of the other in every detail, from the train-watching post right into Holland.

  After the war, in Brussels, I met a priest from Ghent, belonging to the order of the Petits Frères, who told me that he was the man from Ghent about whom van Bergen had written. He had already established two train-watching posts which were just ready to function when contact with Louvain was severed. He had arranged with van Bergen to enlist other members of his Order in different parts of Belgium, but with the arrest of the letter box he had no means of communication, and so was forced to abandon his plans. Many priests were employed in the different organisations which we mounted later. They were excellent agents, as they were often able to bridge over the gap which existed between the Belgian business and professional men and the ordinary workmen; they could frequent both classes without arousing suspicion. We needed men with brains, and yet we could not dispense with the railwayman, the smuggler, the small cafe owner, the boatman, and the peasant working on the frontier. It was often hard to make connections between them.

  During his visit to me after the Armistice, the priest and I visited the grave of van Bergen, and as we stood beside it with bared heads, we mourned the death of a brave man. The keen-faced, quiet lawyer had rendered very great service, for his Louvain post controlled the Liège–Brussels line, one of the most important railway lines through Belgium. For a considerable time, until we succeeded in mounting a duplicate post, it supplied the only information which the Allies were getting at that time concerning troop movements along this important artery.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE WHITE LADY OF THE HOHENZOLLERNS

  VAN BERGEN AND his organisation had been arrested by the Germans, and although Morreau’s train-watching posts at Brussels, Namur and Liège were then still functioning, together with some other independent posts of ours, we had to replace our losses and also increase the number of our posts, as we knew that the span of life of each of our organisations was strictly limited. The Germans kept making arrests and each agent was in continual danger of the firing-squad.

  When, therefore, directed by one of our frontier agents, I received the visit of an emissary from Belgium under the assumed name of St Lambert, who said that he represented a large group of patriots in the interior desirous of organising an espionage service in the occupied territory, my enthusiasm knew no bounds. Here was half the work done; I only had to supply the tuyaux, or passages at the frontier, furnish the money, and send the necessary instructions in as to the kind of information required.

  The more we talked, the more enthusiastic I became. It was explained to me that the group in the interior was made up of intellectuals: college professors, professional men, bankers, and a sprinkling of the Belgian nobility. Already in my imagination I could see this super-service working. I was getting ready to dismiss St Lambert with instructions to meet me again in the afternoon, when suddenly he shot at me, ‘There is one condition however; they insist on being enrolled as soldiers before they commence work.’

  I looked at him in blank amazement, even though I could understand the desire. Every agent in the interior was serving his country, incurring even greater risks than the soldiers in the front line; they were facing danger alone, without the beat of drums, without any means of self-defence, without uniforms, without even the pageantry and excitement of war. But, for the moment, the demand seemed quite impossible. How could the War Office make British soldiers out of Belgian subjects? How, even, could the Belgian authorities do it, when it would be far too dangerous to send the names out across the frontier? Above all, how could either of them make women soldiers? – for there were several women in the group.

  I was on the point of voicing my sentiments openly, when I noticed the look of expectation and determination on St Lambert’s face. I parried by asking him how he thought it could be done, and how he thought the oath of allegiance could be administered?

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘The War Office will have to find the formula. My instructions are to take the matter up with the Belgian authorities in Havre, if I cannot get satisfaction from you.’ I knew that even if the Belgian military command were to accede to their request, the Belgian secret service could not supply them with a safe means of communication at the frontier. I doubted whether the Belgian service was getting any information at all out of Belgium at that time.

  Never in my life have I been afraid to make a rapid decision. I have ever been a gambler, ready to take a risk if there is something big to gain by it. I knew that here was the chance of building up the organisation I had dreamed of, but that I would have to make a promise which, perhaps, I couldn’t keep, or which, perhaps, would get me into trouble. I told St Lambert that I would communicate with the chief in England, and that within a day or two, I would give him a reply.

  It was useless for me to refer the matter to higher a
uthorities; I knew that even if the War Office was willing to grant their request, it would be necessary to get the consent of the Belgian government, and that many useful months would be lost. The next day, at peace with my conscience, I told St Lambert that their request had been granted, and that he could write a letter to this effect, which I would cause to be delivered to any address he indicated in Brussels or Liège.

  After the Armistice, it took a great fight to make good my promise. Later on, it will be told how this was achieved. Their eventual militarisation was a just reward for the splendid services they rendered.

  St Lambert, an engineer and executive in one of Belgium’s biggest engineering works, was an intelligent man. There were many questions he could have asked me; he could have embarrassed me by demanding guarantees or an official letter from the War Office. He was a practical man, however, whereas he had told me that the leaders of the group in Belgium were idealists. I think he realised the audacity of their demands, and having obtained a favourable reply from me, he was glad to let the matter drop. He wrote the letter I requested, gave me two contact addresses, and left for Havre to place his services at the disposal of the Belgian government. He kept the promises I exacted from him; he never mentioned the matter to a soul until after the war.

  Our first message contained St Lambert’s letter, instructions as to the sort of information required, suggestions as regards organisation, and the sum of £500 for preliminary expenses. We instructed our courier to make his own arrangements with the letter box, or contact man, in regard to the days and the time he should pick up the reports.

  We received a prompt reply, containing some military information and a promise of train-watching posts at Liège, Namur, and Brussels. We were also informed that the organisation would be called La Dame Blanche, after the legendary White Lady whose appearance would herald the downfall of the Hohenzollerns. The name was appropriate, for they certainly did their share in contributing to the defeat of the German Army, and ultimately to the abdication of the Kaiser.

  The organisation developed rapidly. In a brief time, there were close upon 200 agents enrolled in this organisation. At its head were two leaders: one Walthère Dewé a brilliant engineer, formerly in the employ of the Belgian government, and the other Herman Chauvin a college professor. There was no need to tell these men how to organise. They had lived in contact with the Germans for nearly three years, and knew the danger they were running. They realised the importance of organising their service on our basis of independent and isolated nests. They studied the methods and movements of the German Secret Police, and were able to outwit them at every turn.

  With Belgium covered so efficiently by La Dame Blanche and our other organisations, it was not long before we were established in the occupied territory in France. For two years, none of the Allied services had received any reports from this area so close behind the Front. La Dame Blanche did their work well, and soon the first reports on the important Hirson–Mézières artery commenced to come in. Colonel Oppenheim was elated; it thrilled me, too, to read the copy of his telegram to GHQ reporting the first troop movements through Hirson. Once again, we got a telegram of congratulations from GHQ, which we transmitted in code to the interior.

  We now had three independent passages at the frontier connected with La Dame Blanche, and these we safeguarded night and day. The electric wire, the German sentries, and the German Secret Police – these were the enemies we were ever watching, watching so that we could slip the reports through right under their noses. We were handicapped by the fact that at the frontier of Belgium, we were forced to use Belgian peasants of a mental capacity far inferior to our agents in the interior; the Germans would have been suspicious of any other type, and besides, the peasants in tilling their soil, had an excuse to approach the wire. But the difficulties we faced made the game more exciting; it was a case of the fox and the hounds.

  La Dame Blanche organisation was ever growing in size; like a great octopus, it was spreading its tentacles over the whole of the occupied territory, including both Belgium and France. Its need of money kept growing. The train-watchers and other agents had to be on duty night and day, and most of them had families to support. We were now sending in to La Dame Blanche about £10,000 each month, not counting the tuyaux, or men at the frontier, whom we paid separately. This money was sent in chiefly in the form of 1000-mark bills, but even in this large denomination, it meant passing 200 bills each month; this meant bulk, and bulk meant danger, when one ran the risk of being searched at any moment. There was a danger, too, of tempting the peasants at the frontiers. We were entirely in their hands: if they chose to steal the money, we had no means of redress; they could even plead innocence, blaming one of the many others through whose hands it had to pass. But the loss of the money was the least annoyance; we were afraid that because of theft the tuyaux men might cease working. We were very fortunate, however; we knew most of the money got through, for La Dame Blanche acknowledged receipt of each sum.

  Our three tuyaux functioned smoothly for almost a year; then, suddenly, the men at one of them were arrested. They had probably aroused suspicion by approaching the wire too often. We were able, however, to warn La Dame Blanche in time, so that their courier could be kept from making contact with the tuyau, and as his identity was not known to the frontier men, no further arrests were made. The Germans captured the last batch of reports, which were at the frontier ready to be passed. This meant no direct danger to La Dame Blanche, as everything compromising was in code, but by the bulk of the reports, it warned the Germans that there was a huge organisation functioning in the interior, and this meant increased surveillance.

  By far the biggest annoyance to us was the fact that most of the money had been sent in through this particular tuyau. La Dame Blanche immediately proposed to us that for the time being, they should borrow money in the interior from a banker who was one of their members. Once again, I took prompt action; without referring the matter to London, and thereby avoiding a waste of valuable time, I told them to go ahead. £30,000 was borrowed in this way before we could send money in regularly again. As with the militarisation, the chief in London, once again, helped me to fulfil my promises after the Armistice. He transferred the money to me in Brussels, in 1919, and I was able to write a cheque out to them for the sum, repaying in full the amount borrowed.

  A few months before the big German offensive in 1918, La Dame Blanche added one more extension to their organisation – the development of a group of agents in the Valenciennes section of occupied France. Here an old Allied service had functioned in the earlier stages of the war, in 1915, but had lost contact with Holland. It was now resuscitated, and was able to send us train-watching and promeneur reports of the greatest value during the last stages of the war.

  The final development in the Dame Blanche service was an attempt at establishing telephone connection with us in Holland. But for the Armistice, this would have been achieved; it would have been a crowning triumph added to the already brilliant successes of this magnificent organisation. One of the chiefs, a professor of physics at one of the Belgian universities, knew, from his familiarity with electricity, that if the earth is used as a return circuit in a field telephone installation, messages could be intercepted by another similar installation, with its connecting wire running parallel to that of the first. He had also discovered that in the Maastricht sector of the Belgian–Dutch border there was a spot on the river separating the two countries where, because of the water, there was very little surveillance; 100 yards of wire could have been run underground between two cottages on the Belgian side; and on the Dutch side opposite there was a big estate owned by a man who was very pro-Belgian, and who was willing to allow the second line and set of apparatus to be installed there, with prying eyes kept away from it.

  I knew the installation would work, for we had intercepted German messages in this way at the Front, when the distance between our trenches and those of the Germans was much great
er than the distance between the proposed two wires. Furthermore, our lines would be parallel, an ideal arrangement for interception. No time was lost in developing this scheme, and telephone apparatus had already been dispatched to us from London, when the Armistice brought an end to hostilities.

  No account I can give can render adequate justice to the splendid achievements of La Dame Blanche. They were undoubtedly the finest espionage organisation created in the occupied territory. The information they sent us was of priceless value to the Allies; again and again telegrams of congratulation from GHQ bore this out. Prior to the big German offensive, which broke in March 1918, their train-watching posts, over fifty in number, gave all the troop movements through all the junctions in Belgium, and through many in occupied France. Their promeneurs, especially those of Fabry in the Avesnes area, signalled the massing of troops in their neighbourhood – proof positive, to my mind at least, as I identified division after division, detraining there, and marching there from other sectors, that it was from this sector that the big German offensive was to be launched.

  La Dame Blanche owed its success, first of all, to the genius of its two leaders, a professor and an engineer; secondly, to the discipline which it was able to secure through its militarisation; and finally to the splendid calibre and intelligence of its agents drawn from the Belgian intelligentsia. After the Armistice, the two chiefs, Dewé and Chauvin, were decorated with the CBE (Commander of the Order of the British Empire), military division, and the remaining 1,000-odd agents received lesser awards from the British government.