by Henry Landau
I boldly accosted them, and told them to come and see me at the office. I had no fear of compromising myself. By now, both the Germans and Dutch knew what I was doing; the former were powerless to prevent my activities, and it was the policy of the latter not to interfere with me.
For the price of a suit of clothes apiece, and a few loose gulden in their pockets, the means of making them look respectable and obtain work, they gave me full details of their regiment, their division, the place and date at which they had left them; and, on a large map, one of a complete set for the Western and Eastern Fronts, I marked off battery emplacements, regimental and divisional headquarters, and other objectives for our artillery and aeroplanes. Colonel Oppenheim was delighted with the information.
To get more deserters, I offered a reward to the ones I had interrogated, for each deserter they brought me. My plan worked admirably; somehow or other, each deserter crossing the frontier gravitated to his companions, who passed him on to me. I am sure I missed very few.
Most of these men deserted from leave trains on their way back to the Front. The Herbesthal–Liège line passed within sight of the Dutch frontier, and I suppose the temptation was too great for some of the poor devils. These men were of interest, for it was important to know exactly what part of the line each division held; but the most valuable ones were those who deserted from trains carrying their divisions from east to west, or vice versa. Train-watchers gave the movements, but since the German troops no longer wore their regimental numbers, they could not identify the divisions.
I can still hear the shout of satisfaction from Colonel Oppenheim, when, after our posts had reported the passage of two divisions going east into Germany through Liège, I announced to him that I had just interrogated two deserters, and knew conclusively that it was the 8th Corps. Two weeks later, he sent me a copy of a telegram from GHQ, which read: ‘Congratulations 8th Corps identified by prisoners on the Russian Front.’ It was such telegrams, received from time to time, that kept us keyed to the greatest enthusiasm.
Sometimes a deserter would try to give me wrong information, and sometimes the German secret service in Holland deliberately sent me fake deserters. But armed with detail maps of the eastern and western battle fronts which gave the last location of each German division in line, as established by prisoners, and also having in my possession the army Brown Book,1 which gave the regimental numbers of the units in each division with the names of divisional commanders and a mass of other information, I knew enough to be able to trap any deserter immediately whenever I found him telling lies. They soon passed the word around that I was not to be fooled.
Once, I will admit, the German secret service had both Colonel Oppenheim and myself worried. To some extent, we were deceived. One morning, on entering one of the cubicles in which I interrogated deserters and other suspects so as to keep them isolated from the main office, I found myself to my surprise facing a Turk in semi-uniform. In fluent French, he informed me that he had deserted at Trier from a Turkish division, which was on its way by rail from the Dardanelles to the Western Front.
I was at a loss. I knew nothing about the Turkish Army; I had no Brown Book on it; I had no maps of the Turkish Front. I knew that considerable re-grouping had been going on; German divisions had appeared on the Italian Front in support of the Austrians, and heavy Austrian howitzer batteries had been located on the Western Front. Colonel Oppenheim had sent me a ‘blue slip’: ‘Be on the look-out for the appearance of Austrian troops.’ I suspected the Turk, even though he made a good impression and had a good story, complete in every detail, even as to his place of entrainment, and the route his train had followed. If it was true, here was information of the greatest importance; and yet, if it were false, and I reported it, I knew I should be laughed at.
I reported my views to Colonel Oppenheim, and asked him if he would like to see the man. To my relief, he agreed. He was unable to break down the man’s story, and, under the circumstances, did the only thing he could do: he telegraphed the information. The man was paid, and the Germans probably had a good laugh. No Turkish division ever appeared on the Western Front. Months later, I ran into our man peddling carpets on the streets of Rotterdam. As I looked at him closely, I could swear I saw him smile.
I didn’t mind this continual crossing of swords with the German secret service; it added zest to our work.
We now pulled off one of the biggest secret service scoops of the war. On entering one of the cubicles in response to word from our doorman that there was a deserter to see me, I found a young anæmic-looking fellow, who nervously pulled a package out from under his coat. ‘What is this worth to you?’ said he, as he pulled a book out of the wrapping. ‘It is the latest edition of the German field post directory. Two days ago I removed it from the Düsseldorf post office, where I was working.’
I was undoubtedly a comical sight, for blank amazement must have been clearly written on my face. I grasped the book, not believing my ears, and hardly trusting my eyes. I am sure that my hand shook as I thumbed its pages. Here was a complete list of every unit in the German Army. It was of vital importance to the Allies to know what new regiments, batteries, aeroplane flights, and other units were being formed from time to time; knowing this, they could make an exact estimate of the strength of the German Army. In addition, there in the most authentic form was the location on the Eastern and Western Fronts of each of the German field posts. This meant that we had the code by means of which we could tell, from intercepted post cards and letters, the exact place where all the regiments or units indicated in the addresses were located.
I made a dash for my Brown Book. Incomplete as it was, I knew it was sufficient to enable me to check up the authenticity of this field post directory. Hastily, by means of my battle-front maps, and by some intercepted post cards, I checked up the location of those regiments whose position in the front line had been established by captured prisoners. Hurriedly I searched in the book for the mention of the new regiments of the 600 series; I had just had some deserters from infantry regiment 606, not listed in the Brown Book, and at the time I was afraid that, encouraged by their success with the Turk, the German Service was again trying a joke on me.
Everything tallied. The book was undoubtedly genuine. No monetary value could be put on the volume; it was priceless. An army of spies could not have gathered the data it contained. It made our Brown Book look silly, and yet the Brown Book represented the sum total of our information about the German Army gained during more than three years of spy activity, and from the interrogation of several hundred thousand German prisoners of war captured by both the French and British armies. By adroit negotiation and by handing us for examination a torn-out page instead of the whole directory, the deserter could have demanded and received a fabulous sum for it; instead, he meekly accepted £100, the first sum I offered him.
I often wondered afterwards what happened to these German deserters, who sold their country for a mess of pottage. I confess I hated interrogating them. They were such poor devils, without a country, without money, without work, and without friends in a foreign country. Perhaps I kept them from the concentration camp, and helped them to get work. I hope I did. At least, I salved my conscience by thinking so. Anyhow, I had to do it; it was war.
Of all the many German deserters who passed through my hands, Heinrich Feldmann made the best impression. I felt that he was giving me information, not just to get a few gulden, but because he had a genuine grievance against the German authorities. There was no mistaking his sincerity and his real grief when he told me about his wife and three children in Berlin: how for months they had lived on nothing but turnips and watery potatoes; how white and emaciated he had found them on returning home on leave; and how he had sworn he would desert to Holland, obtain work, and send them money to buy a few of the bare necessities of life. He declared that he had a greater responsibility towards his family than to the Kaiser and the military clique who were driving Germany to its r
uin.
When, therefore, Colonel Oppenheim asked me to check up on certain of the new regiments and batteries which we had found mentioned in the field post directory, it was quite natural that I should think of Feldmann. Knowing where he was working, I sent a confidential agent to arrange a secret meeting with him. Feldmann was surprised at the sudden precautions, and he was evidently curious to know what I had in mind.
I outlined to him briefly what I wanted him to do, explaining that he would be well paid, and that here was an opportunity for him to help his family. I admitted that it was obviously a dangerous mission, as, of course, he was perfectly aware, but that I could diminish the danger by supplying him with the necessary papers ‘proving’ that he was unfit for military service. He hesitated, but when I showed him the perfect specimens of our engraver’s art, including a pass permitting its bearer to travel on the German railways, he accepted. He recognised that he had a sporting chance of success.
In a week I had coached him in the sort of information I required, and he was ready to pass the frontier. With a handshake and wishes for his good luck, he departed, having in his possession the address of our secret agent in Sittard, who had been warned of his coming, and who had received instructions to take him across the border into Aachen. Once there, it was up to Feldmann to continue on his own.
Our Sittard agent, who belonged to a band of smugglers operating there, reported that the journey to Aachen had been successfully accomplished. We sat back and waited. Three weeks elapsed. Then one morning I got a telegram from Roermond, addressed to one of our confidential agents in Rotterdam. ‘Please send eight more bags this evening Johannes.’ This was a code message, which meant that Fleischer had returned, and would meet me at 8 p.m. at the same place as before.
He brought back information of the greatest value to us. He had visited several training camps, and had secured, not only confirmation of the formation of several new regiments, such as those of the 600 and 700 series, but also details of the formation and tactics of the special storm troops, sturmtruppen which the Germans were to use so successfully in their great offensive in March 1918. He reported that these sturmtruppen, made up of picked veterans, were being formed into units and drilled in the training centres in Germany and behind the Front. They were to be used as spearheads to make gaps in the enemy’s front line, through which the less-experienced troops would then be poured. This was the German ‘infiltration’ process, which the Allies had to combat later on, and with which the war communiques were filled after the launching of the German offensive.
In addition, Feldmann gave a valuable description of economic conditions in Germany, and brought back with him samples of cards, composed of coupons for each day in the month, which entitled the German citizen to specific daily quantities of bread, fat, and other foods; he also supplied us with a variety of ersatz products, the substitutes for coffee and other foodstuffs which the Germans were using. He confirmed what we already knew, that starvation conditions were rapidly developing in Germany, but maintained that, spurred on by the Austrian successes against the Italians, and by the collapse of Russia and the subsequent signing of the peace of Brest Litovsk, the German people still hoped for victory in the great offensive, which they all knew their High Command was preparing on the Western Front.
Feldmann was now set a new and much more difficult task. We were extremely anxious to establish a train-watching post at Trier. We were getting all the troop movements coming out of Germany on the Aachen–Herbesthal–Liège line, but the other main artery through Trier was unwatched. If we could mount a post here, we would be catching every troop movement out of Germany to the Western Front between Verdun and the sea. Success would mean a magnificent achievement.
Feldmann was afraid. He could not have been more sceptical of success than I was. Again and again I had failed in the attempt. We never had been able to mount a train-watching post in Germany itself. It was obviously a far different affair working with Germans in Germany, than with Belgians or the French in the occupied territory. In the one case, we only had money as the incentive; in the other, we had patriotism. Again, it was harder to spy in Germany because the agent was continually surrounded by neighbours who would give him away if they saw anything suspicious. Finally, a train-watcher, having to remain at his post, had to rely on a courier. It was chiefly at this that the German agents balked. We had had many successful ones, like Fleischer, working alone; but they steadily refused to put their lives in the hands of a compatriot worker.
However, Feldmann finally accepted the mission, and returned to Germany. We never saw him again. Whether the fairly large sum which I gave him for organisation purposes was too great a temptation, or whether he was caught and shot, I do not know. I have a suspicion that having found out that the papers we gave him were such perfect forgeries that they could pass muster with the Germans, and having saved a fairly large sum of money, he returned to his family in Berlin. He realised that their existence depended on him, and he probably thought we had set him an impossible task. They were obviously his greatest and only consideration in life, and as he had refused to sacrifice them for his Kaiser, we could not expect him to sacrifice them for us.
Another brave and arresting figure comes back to my mind. I knew him as ‘The Dane’. What his name was, or where he came from, I do not know, although I met him several times. Slight of build, fair, with blue eyes, he looked the reserved, well-bred Scandinavian of cultured and professional interests. He certainly did not look the arch-spy that he was. When I came to know him better, however, I realised why he was so successful. He was a marine engineer of exceptional quality; he was a man without nerves, always cool and collected; nothing escaped his austerely competent eye; and he was possessed of an astounding memory for the minutest detail of marine construction.
I read his reports from time to time and marvelled at them. In my opinion, he was undoubtedly by far the most valuable agent the Allies ever had working in Germany. To the chief in England belonged the credit of finding him; at least, I believe so. He became the solitary agent in Germany that our naval section in Holland possessed, but he was all they needed. He covered every shipbuilding yard and every Zeppelin shed in Germany. I can only give a very general survey of his activities, as his reports dealt chiefly with naval matters which were handled by the naval section. But he rendered such outstanding services to our military section as well as his own, and his reports were so brilliant, that I am sure the reader will be interested in the meagre details I can offer.
The key to his success was that he made the Germans believe that he was working for them against us. As a representative of a Danish shipbuilding yard, which was supplying the Germans from time to time with tugboats and marine equipment, he was allowed to travel freely to Kiel, Wilhelmshaven, Hamburg, Bremen, Emden, Lübeck, Flensburg, and other shipbuilding centres. His capable and affable management of company affairs caused such a sea of orders that they were unable to meet the demands. His popularity with German clients and their trust in his apparently candid nature were unbounded. When in due time he applied for a pass to proceed through Germany to Holland it was readily granted, especially in view of his suggestion to the German authorities that he could buy much needed raw material there, and also tugboats and other small craft, which could be purchased as if by his Danish company, but in reality for supply to Germany. He was so successful with his purchases in Holland that regularly, once every three weeks, he was permitted to make the trip.
Little did the Germans know that it was we who were largely responsible for the Dane’s success. T, because of his shipping connections, was able to give him valuable information as to where he could purchase material, and secure an odd tugboat now and then; and since in the natural course of affairs the British authorities would have protested or prevented such purchases as he made, our lack of action enabled him to return to Germany and ingratiate himself by boasting how successful he had been in covering up his purchases from the British. In th
is way, he became persona grata with the German authorities, and by bringing back small presents in the way of clothing, foodstuffs, and luxuries which were then unobtainable in Germany, he was able to ingratiate himself with the heads of the shipbuilding yards, and with other German officials.
With his extraordinary memory, he was able to sit down, when in Holland, and write out page after page of reports, giving an exact description of the ships which were under construction or repair, and supplying us with the invaluable naval information on which the admiralty relied absolutely. Every battleship and cruiser has a distinctive silhouette which is as individual as that of a human being. The silhouettes of all the pre-war German warships were known to us, and in these the Dane was so thoroughly drilled that at a distance of several miles he rarely made a mistake in identifying the larger of them.
From him we got full engineering details of the submarines which the Germans were turning out as fast as they could in order to put over their unrestricted submarine warfare campaign. We learned of the number under construction, the repairs which were being made, and, what was very important, the number which were missing. In the Allied defence against submarines, with the use of depth bombs, mines and gunfire, it was often difficult to tell whether these enemy craft had been sunk or had submerged of their own accord.
Long before the Deutschland, the German merchant submarine, was ready for its trip to America, we had received a full description of it from the Dane. From him we also knew of the commerce raiders, which were then being fitted out. He reported the successful return of the Moewe when we thought it was still at large. Through him the British Admiralty got exact details of the German losses at Jutland, and also a minute account of the damage done to some of the ships which returned. In a battle of this description, fought during periods of fog and darkness, it was impossible to make an accurate estimate of losses from direct observation during the action.