The Spy Net

by Henry Landau

  Through their counter-espionage section, the ‘White Lady’ had immediately been informed of the arrests; within two days on 10 March 1918, through agents Fauquenot and Creusen, they were already in touch with two of the prisoners. The two Collards were in solitary confinement and could not be reached. Fauquenot’s first message, written in code, warned them of the reports hidden in the sofa:

  Have spoken to Franchimont. He was arrested on the 8th. He says one can count on him. He is accused of espionage. The affair is complicated on account of the false identity cards; the Germans want to know where they come from. He speaks of documents in the sofa. Do you know what he is talking about? They found nothing on van den Berg. Muller is doing the interrogating. They undressed one of the Collard brothers yesterday and thrashed him with a cane. Let us know what you want us to ask them.

  Reyman had an excuse to enter the villa, he was the owner; and it was he who not only rescued the reports from the sofa, but found Antony Collard’s pocketbook still lying where he had thrown it.

  The two Collards, young men, twenty-one and twenty years of age, were born in the beautiful little village of Tintigny, in the valley of the Semois, at the southern tip of Belgian Luxembourg. Here, far from large towns, they had lived a peaceful life in a happy home of seven children. Stirred by the call of their country, they had come to Liège in September 1917, to escape across the border to join the Belgian Army, and it was here that the ‘White Lady’ contacted them.

  It was not difficult to persuade these two young patriots to return to Tintigny to organise an espionage group in their area. They were completely successful, and at the time of their arrest they had not only covered the whole of the Virton section with a spy network and had mounted a train-watching post at Longuyon on the important Longuyon–Sedan line just across the border in occupied France, but they had also started a penetration into the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. In addition to this role as organisers, they had also acted as couriers linking up the Virton section with Liège.

  It was for this reason that their arrest immediately severed all connection between the ‘White Lady’ and the Virton section. Not only were there no means of collecting the reports, but it was impossible for the ‘White Lady’ to warn the members of the group what had happened. The situation was all the more tragic because several of their names were written down in the papers contained in Louis Collard’s pocketbook. The Germans were quick to act, and the arrest of Collard Senior, the young men’s father, Monsieur and Madame Bastin, and Abbé Arnould – all of the Virton area – followed in quick succession.

  The Secret Police now had a group of seven prisoners in St Leonard. They were sure they could tear sufficient information out of them to put them on the track of the main organisation. But as the weeks went by, they had to admit defeat. The four newly arrested members knew nothing about the ‘White Lady’ organisation. Madame Goessels kept repeating the same refugee story, until they got tired of questioning her; and the Collard brothers remained heroic in their silence. Every third-degree method was tried; and not even ‘V’ the most successful stool-pigeon in St Leonard, who after the war was condemned by the French to Devil’s Island, was able to move the two martyred brothers to betrayal.

  With the arrests of Collard Senior, a widower, and of the Bastins, two families of small children were left at home without parents. Marie-Thérèse, a girl of eighteen, the oldest of the five remaining Collard children, not knowing what had happened to their father and brothers, was left in a state of torment. Franticly, she ran to the German police post at Florenville. There they refused to give her any information. Eventually, in despair she set out to see her cousin Duchesnes in Namur, accompanied by Irene Bastin, a girl of the same age. Perhaps, he could give her some news. Duchesnes sent the two young girls to Liège, and there, through mutual friends, they managed to get into touch with a member of the ‘White Lady’.

  The ‘White Lady’ gave the two young girls what comfort it could, and immediately took steps to care for the children of the two families. At the same time, through Marie-Thérèse, they received enough indications to re-establish connexions with the unarrested members of the Virton section, and to set them working again. Marie-Thérèse and Irene Bastin were enrolled as members of the ‘White Lady’, and themselves undertook to make the necessary contact between the ‘White Lady’ courier and the agents in their area. The following is the letter which the ‘White Lady”s courier brought back on returning from his first trip:

  The mission which you honoured us with was easy to accomplish. On our return, we found that a faithful and devoted agent had already reorganised the service. All we had to do was to help with the second part. As for the Abbé you spoke about, we enrolled him in the service through the intermediary of Pol. Leopold is very happy, and, as you have no doubt found out for yourself, is very zealous.

  If you have orders to give us, send them along. We are entirely at your disposal.

  We are happier every day that you have chosen us to continue the work of our dear parents. Please accept our sincere thanks, and respectful mark of our friendship.

  MART HE AND MADELEINE VAILLY [their two service names] 19 July 1918.

  When this letter was written Marie-Thérèse had not yet heard the tragic news of what had happened at Liège the day before.

  Shortly after this the Secret Police discovered that the two young girls had been to Namur and Liège. They were imprisoned for several weeks; and it was only when the Secret Police realised that they could obtain no information from them that they were released.

  In the meanwhile the investigations of the Secret Police in Liège had come to an end. There was no more information to be obtained. The prisoners were put on trial. Becker, the member of the Secret Police who had done most of the investigating, was the chief witness for the prosecution. The military prosecuting attorney demanded the following sentences: against Madame Goessels, and Louis and Antony Collard, the death penalty; against the father, Léon Collard, twelve years’ hard labour; against Abbé Arnould, fifteen years’ hard labour; against Joseph Bastin, ten years’ hard labour; against Madame Bastin, two years’ hard labour. Two German lawyers represented the prisoners. They confined themselves chiefly to pleading for a diminution of the penalties demanded.

  Judgment was rendered on 2 July 1918. Louis and Antony Collard, Abbé Arnould, and Madame Goessels were condemned to death; the others to various terms of hard labour. The sentences of Madame Goessels and Abbé Arnould were eventually changed by the governor-general to hard labour for life.

  Louis and Antony Collard were shot at the Citadel of the Chartreuse at Liège, on 18 July 1918.

  Nothing can be sadder than the last farewell visit to their father. They were brought together in the office of the director of the prison. The father subsequently wrote:

  My children pronounced with affection the names of each one of the family. It seemed as if they were more preoccupied with the lot of the others than they were with their own. With precision they made known to me their last wishes.

  At the end of the room, near a table, were seated the director of the prison, and some German officers. Two doors opened out on to the corridor. Soldiers stood posted at them, immobile, and respectful.

  At the signal for the separation, my children threw themselves on their knees: ‘Father, give us your last blessing.’

  I blessed them, and then prostrated myself in turn: ‘You also, my children, before you die, bless your old father.’

  We were all three on our knees.

  Another signal was given. I embraced my sons. They went off, without shedding a tear, holding their heads high, and leaving me a last word of consolation and affection.

  They had already left me, when I realised my cruel situation: I would never see them again. I precipitated myself out of the room. The soldiers allowed me to pass. I saw Louis and Antony about to turn the corner of the corridor. They saw me, and with a cry ‘We’ll meet in heaven,’ they disappeared from si
ght.

  But the cup of grief of the aged father had not yet been filled: two years later, Marie-Thérèse followed her brothers to the grave.

  After the war, both the British and the Belgian governments bestowed on Louis and Antony Collard, posthumously, the same high decorations which they had conferred on Dieudonné Lambrecht.

  In rendering homage to the two Collard brothers, we must remember Madame Goessels. Her nimble mind had saved the lives of two members of the service; in doing it, she had not hesitated to pretend a relationship with Franchimont which was completely at variance with her character. She could have revealed more about the ‘White Lady’ than any of those who had been arrested; she, too, remained heroic in her silence.

  The ‘White Lady’ had weathered the storm, but Dewé and Chauvin had had many anxious moments. The Secret Police never knew how close they came to arresting them. Following up the clue that Rosa, the maid, also did part time work for a Mademoiselle Weimerskirch, the Secret Police decided to search her house. When they arrived, Dewé and Chauvin were in a back room. As the Secret Police came in at the front door, Dewé and Chauvin left precipitately at the rear.

  CHAPTER 11

  LÉON TRULIN — YOUNGEST SPY SHOT DURING THE WAR

  LILLE WAS NOT only occupied by the enemy but it was right in the firing line. From the British lines the outskirts of the town were plainly visible, and buildings occupied by the Germans were a constant target for the British heavy batteries. But the British shells often missed their mark, and although the centre of the town was not bombarded whole sections of the suburbs lay in ruins. Had the town been smaller, it would have been evacuated; with 200,000 inhabitants this was not possible.

  So the civilian population of Lille remained as eyewitnesses to the busy German military activities in this important centre. Heavy batteries were dotted around in the area; troops destined for the various sectors of the Front detrained there daily; several aviation fields were located close by; and, finally, warehouses filled with shells and other war material were to be found in various parts of the town. In short, it was a field where even the most amateur spy would have had no difficulty in preparing a daily report of intense interest to the Allies.

  If the Allied secret services were intent on recruiting spies in the area, the Germans were equally determined to prevent them. In addition to having an army of Secret Police patrolling the region, the Germans did everything within their power to intimidate the inhabitants. No person was allowed out of doors between 6 p.m. and 6 a.m.; passes were required to travel from one commune to another; the Mayor was forced to deposit a sum of 5,000,000 francs, and to hand over five hostages, interchangeable every three days, as guarantees against hostile acts undertaken by the population; the severest sentences were imposed for the most minor offences. And, finally, since the town was in occupied France, it was blocked off from Belgium by an efficient frontier patrol and a cordon of sentries.

  It was in this town that Léon Trulin, a young Belgian, seventeen years of age, found himself at the outbreak of the war. His family, consisting of a widowed mother and nine young children, had moved there from Ath, in Belgium, four years previously. One can imagine what effect the thunder of the guns night and day, and the ceaseless excitement and turmoil of the war had on a boy of his age.

  Keenly alert to the bustling activity, Léon and his friends among the boys of the neighbourhood watched with youthful curiosity the heavy guns as they rumbled through the town; and, just because it was forbidden, it became their special game to discover the eventual emplacements. With a cunning superior to that of any adult, they found means to avoid the vigilance of the German sentries. The aviation fields, too, were special centres of attraction. But it was the ridge to the east of the town, looking down on the British lines, that was their favourite objective. Here, crouched among the ruins, they eagerly discussed means of escaping across the border to join their respective armies.

  Léon had already sounded his mother; he knew it was useless trying to argue further with her. He was the eldest son, and her solicitude for his safety could not be overcome; and so, one night, he disappeared from his home, leaving behind him the following message (one can excuse the youthful subterfuge; he knew a farewell scene would break his mother’s heart):

  DEAR MOT HER,

  I was detected taking photographs of the trenches. I threw my camera into a ditch. I am being followed. I am leaving to defend my country. May God protect me! Dear Mother, have courage. Burn this paper.

  – LÉON

  In this fashion Léon entered upon a life of constant peril. He was to undergo the greatest hardships. An abandoned ruin or the damp woods were often to be his only shelter.

  Coming from the north of France, he traversed Belgium, collecting military information as he went along. He knew the value of it; he would hand it over to the recruiting officer on his arrival in Folkestone. Near the Dutch frontier he fell in with a group of refugees, and together with them, on 5 July 1915, successfully evading the German sentries, he crossed the electric wire into Holland.

  Disembarking at Folkestone, in England, he hastened to the Belgian consulate. A disappointment awaited him: he was unable to pass the medical examination.

  Léon was not dismayed. A rifle had been found too heavy for his frail shoulders, but he knew there were other ways of serving his country. The walls of Lille had been placarded with the names of spies who had been shot. There must have been others who had escaped. He, too, would be a spy. He showed the Belgian consul the information he had collected en route, and requested to be put in touch with a secret service organisation.

  B’s headquarters happened to be conveniently near, and so it was there that Léon was sent. Handing over his report to Monthaye, a Belgian attached to B’s staff, Léon eagerly offered his services. Rapidly glancing at the report, Monthaye found it of interest, but it only dealt with those parts of Belgium through which Léon had passed, and this area was already covered by other spies. Of far greater importance was the fact that the boy had come from Lille, from which the service had been cut off for weeks. Pulling out a large scale map of the town, Monthaye beckoned Léon to his side. Quick to orientate himself, the young Belgian pointed out all he knew. It was difficult to discern who was the more excited: Monthaye, because of the priceless information he was jotting down; or Léon, because he realised from the interest evidenced that his services would be accepted.

  Léon spent a week in Folkestone, during which time he was rapidly put through a course of training. He was taught how to distinguish between German units by the marks on their uniforms; photographs and sketches of different calibre guns were shown him; and, finally, he was given additional objectives to those on which he had already concentrated. A sum of money was handed to him for expenses, and he was promised that if he came back with a good report he would be put in touch with B’s organisation in Holland, and would be enrolled as a permanent agent.

  It was as a prescript that Léon returned to Lille. Unfortunately, he had sent his mother a letter from Holland to announce his safe arrival; this no doubt had been read by the German censor, and Monthaye had warned him not to go near his home. He went, therefore, to the house of Raymond Derain, his closest friend.

  Raymond, a boy of his own age, listened with tense interest and excitement to the details of his friend’s mission. He, too, wished to serve his country; it was not difficult to win his support. Together the two boys set about accomplishing the special mission on which Léon had been sent: they drew up a lengthy report on the forts of Lille, showing the repair work which had been done since their destruction by the French during the retreat at the commencement of the war. It was work which required the greatest skill and audacity, but with the help of a pair of field-glasses which Raymond discovered at home, and with the aid of a small boy of fifteen, who courageously penetrated some of the fortifications, they carried out the task.

  On 26 July, Léon was back in Folkestone with the information. Monthaye
was both surprised at his quick return, and at the efficiency with which the plans and reports had been drawn up. He was taken in to see B, who congratulated him on his splendid accomplishment. A few days later, Léon found himself back in Holland, where he was put in touch with Carlot, one of B’s head agents.

  After the war, Léon Trulin’s notes were found at the Belgian consulate, in Flushing, where he had deposited them for safe keeping prior to his return to the occupied territories. The following extract gives us a clear indication of the instructions which he received from Carlot:

  Léon 143 will return to Belgium, and will pass through Deynze. He will establish train-watching posts at Deynze, Ingelmunster, Courtrai, Mouscron and, if possible, at Tourcoing.

  He will report on the troops in the different areas; their identification, the condition they are in, and their depots. He will establish a chain of couriers between Menin, Courtrai, Deurne, and St Laurent in such a way that a report from Menin will reach Flushing in two days.

  Train-watching reports will be sent at least twice a week. Léon 143 will be paid for his reports on the troops of occupation from 10 to 40 francs, according to the value of the information; a bonus of 100 francs will be allotted him for the creation of each new trainwatching post, to be paid after it has functioned two weeks; an additional bonus of from 25 to 50 francs every two weeks, according to the importance of the line, will be paid him for each post during the period it functions.