Chapter XIX: Carl Lody and Spies of the World’s Greatest War 309 (8)

“This document, undoubtedly authentic and bearing the genuine signature and private seal of General J. E. B. Stuart, is of itself strong evidence of the appreciation of which ‘F’s’ treasonable services as a spy and informer were held by her Rebel employers. The proof of ‘F’s’ former employment in the service may be considered indisputable; that of her more recent services and especially in connection with the late attack upon our outpost at Fairfax Court House is not less conclusive; that proof consists in the voluntary acknowledgment and declaration by ‘F’ that she made herself acquainted while a resident within our lines at Fairfax Court House of all the particulars relating to the numbers of our forces there and in the neighborhood, the location of our camps, the places where officers’ quarters were established, the precise points where our pickets were stationed, the strength of the outposts, the names of officers in command, the nature of general orders and all other information valuable to the Rebel leaders; that such information had been communicated by her to Captain Mosby of the Confederate Army immediately before the attack on our outposts above mentioned; and that it has been in consequence of the precision and correctness of such information that Captain Mosby had been enabled successfully to attack and surprise the pickets and outposts of our forces, to find without delay or difficulty the quarters of General Stoughton and other United States officers, to capture that officer and a large amount of Government property and effect a large return within the Confederate lines.

“‘F’ also stated to my informant that Captain Mosby had, but a short time before the rebel raid at Fairfax, been a guest at ‘F’s’ house at that place, that he had remained there three days and three nights, disguised in citizen’s dress and that during such visit she had given to him all the information and details which afterward enabled him successfully to attack our forces. ‘F’ also stated that on an occasion while she was taking a ride on horseback, accompanied by a member of General Stoughton’s staff, they were met by Captain Mosby, also on horseback, but in citizen’s dress and that she and Captain Mosby recognized and saluted each other.”

The official histories of the Civil War are singularly silent regarding the fate of the celebrated “F.” Was she tried and convicted? Or was she acquitted and released? Her identity was proven, but it is not written in the records of the war, and consequently it is not given in this narrative. It is known that President Lincoln, with his shrewd, common sense, and his wonderful ability to make the best of perplexing situations, did not look upon the girl as a dreadful offender. But if he was not willing to condemn her, he was not disposed to formally condone her offense. What happened to her? Can it be possible that the door of her cell was conveniently left open one night, and that on the following morning she was not found in her accustomed place? Quite likely. At all events the reader is free to draw any conclusion he, or she, may like.

One thing certain is that she did return to her home in Virginia, and that her descendants are to-day among the residents of the Old Dominion.

XVIII

THE MYSTERIOUS MAN WHO ASKED FOR A LIGHT

One afternoon in the summer of 1898, a shrewd, bright-eyed looking man stepped up to another man in a corridor of a hotel in Toronto, Canada, and asked him if he would give him a light for his cigarette.

A trivial incident, one might say, and yet upon that insignificant episode rested a movement which had for its object the ridding of the United States of Spanish spies in the war which was then going on between this country and the Kingdom of Spain.

In order to make this veracious record perfectly clear it is necessary to retrace our steps. For many months prior to the time mentioned, the relations between the United States and Spain had been greatly strained because of the troublesome Cuban situation. President McKinley had entered a serious protest to the King of Spain, and told him that it was important for our peace that the Cubans should be pacified. But they were not pacified, and things went on from bad to worse until they came to a startling and dramatic climax on the fifteenth of February, 1898, when the cruiser _Maine_ was blown up in the harbor of Havana and a number of Americans were killed.

A wave of indignation swept the country from Maine to California. A chorus went up from all classes in favor of demanding satisfaction from Spain—for, in the popular mind, Spain was responsible for the outrage. The cry everywhere was “Remember the _Maine_!” Prior to that time the Spanish Minister had been recalled from Washington because of an indiscretion, and now our Minister at Madrid, General Woodford, was handed his passports, and on April 22, President McKinley issued a proclamation saying that a state of war existed between this nation and Spain.

That is history and is known to all. What followed is likewise history, but it is by no means so well known. The first act of the State Department was to inform all of the members of the staff of the Spanish Embassy—in polite language, of course—that their room was preferable to their company. This seemed like a matter of form that did not deserve much thought. And the State Department, having served the required notice, promptly forgot it. But there was one bureau of the United States Government where it was kept in mind, and that was the Secret Service Division.

John E. Wilkie was then the Chief of that most important branch of the Treasury Department, and he had been voted a modest sum by Congress for the purpose of keeping the country free from spies. Heretofore his work had been to keep the nation free from counterfeiters. In both cases he was dealing with crafty and elusive enemies. He proceeded to build up a war organization and he posted his best men in the large cities of this country and Canada. In his office he had a large map of the United States, and by the use of steel pins he could tell at a glance just where his operatives were located. Thus he had men acting as the eyes and the ears of the Government in the cities of Montreal, Toronto, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Newport News, Savannah, Jacksonville, Tampa, Key West, Mobile, New Orleans, Galveston and San Francisco.

Now, when the members of the staff of the Spanish Embassy were told to get out of the country Wilkie determined to make it his business to see that they did get out. To make sure, he furnished them with an escort—an invisible escort—in the person of the operatives of the Secret Service Division. He suspected that some of them would be so interested in the game of war that they might be tempted to remain on this side of the ocean and take part in the game. And his suspicions were perfectly correct. For instance, Ramon Carranza, who had been Naval Attaché at Washington, found it convenient to linger in the city of Toronto. That would have been perfectly proper if he had not been found talking to a person who was far from proper.

And this is where this story really begins—with the episode of the man who asked for a light in the semi-darkened corridor of a Toronto hotel. The operative who had been sent to the Canadian city by Chief Wilkie happened to stop at the same hotel as the former Attaché of the Spanish Embassy. By a curious coincidence he happened to get a room directly adjoining the one occupied by Señor Carranza. And, moreover, he happened to see every one that came in or out of that room. Also, he overheard some of the conversation that went on in the apartment. Thus on the afternoon with which we are concerned he saw a man with a hang-dog look go into the room, and from time to time he caught fragments of conversation. One of the things he heard the Visitor say was “so I will write to the address you have given me in Montreal.” There was some further talk, which could only be heard indistinctly, but the listener managed to discover that the man who was doing the talking had a surprising knowledge of the conditions at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Presently the conversation came to an end and the visitor left the room. The listener left his room at the same moment, and he came into contact with the other man in the hallway. As they gained the head of the stairway he turned to the strange talker in the most casual manner and said:

“I beg your pardon, but will you kindly favor me with a light for my cigarette?”

The mysterious stranger halted and courteously complied with the request. And in those few seconds in that dim hallway, by the light of the burning match, the Secret Service operative obtained what he most desired—a view of the other man’s face. In that brief period of time the characteristics of the suspect were indelibly stamped upon his memory. The two men parted. The one who had been closeted with the former Naval Attaché of the Spanish Embassy went out into the street and proceeded to a remote part of the city. He went to an obscure hotel and registered and was given a room. The operative of the Secret Service followed him and at the first convenient opportunity he scrutinized the hotel register. The name he found inscribed thereon was “Alexander Cree.” His theory was that it was an assumed name. At all events he shadowed his man. He watched his every movement, and soon afterwards he sent a code telegram to John E. Wilkie, the Chief of the Secret Service at Washington.

The scene now shifts to the National Capital. Mr. Wilkie was still in his office occupied with the duties which pressed heavily upon a man in charge of an important department, and whose force was scarcely large enough for the work they were called upon to do day by day at a most critical stage in the history of the nation. Shortly before midnight the telegram came from Toronto. It was given to the code man of the office and in a short time he had transcribed it. In plain English it read as follows:

“Young Southerner, Alexander Cree, of Hillsboro, I think, leaves for Washington to-night. My height and build, small, dark moustache, black soft felt hat, black sack coat, black sailor tie, somewhat shabby, evidently served on _Brooklyn_, has intimate knowledge of Naval matters. Just had long interview with Naval Attaché. He is to write to Montreal.”

This was news with a vengeance. There was great activity about the offices of the Secret Service Division that night. Several of the best men who were in the city were quickly summoned and given a description of the man who was expected from Canada. It was almost midnight when Chief Wilkie left for his home, but when he quit the Department to get a few hours’ sleep it was with the knowledge that he had made arrangements for giving Mr. Cree a hospitable reception upon his arrival in Washington.

That night every railroad station leading into the Capital was closely guarded by Secret Service men. They carefully scrutinized every passenger who alighted, paying special attention to those who were likely to have come from Canada. It was a big job, but it was performed with thoroughness. Many a passenger that night must have been annoyed at the manner in which he was watched by the alert representatives of the United States Government. But, if they felt any annoyance, they must have realized that they were living in war times and must expect all sorts of queer things. Finally, “Mr. Alexander Cree” arrived, and it is significant of the efficiency of the system that he was immediately spotted by the waiting detectives. The description sent by the operative at Toronto had served them well. They recognized him as easily as if they were in possession of his photograph.

From that moment there was a Secret Service man watching him. When one man was tired another quickly took his place, and, as a consequence, there was not a thing he did, and scarcely a thing he said, that was not known to Chief Wilkie a few hours afterwards. His first move was to get something to eat, which was an entirely natural and by no means an unpatriotic act. But after that he went to the Navy Department, and apparently wandered about in an aimless manner. But, as a matter of fact, he had a purpose in visiting that place. Just whether some one in the Department was acting in collusion with him was not clearly established. Finally he went to his lodgings on E Street. He occupied a second-story room, and as soon as he reached it he made a light and settled down to work before a desk which could be seen from the street. Evidently a quantity of mail had accumulated during his absence in the Dominion, because he was occupied for some time in opening and reading letters. For hours he remained there silhouetted against the window shade while the Secret Service men on the opposite side of the street observed every move he made.

Thus, while Washington slept, an enemy of the Republic and its defenders engaged in a game that was to have the greatest bearing upon the conduct of the war. It is difficult to decide which was the most amazing, the daring and impudence of the conspirator in thus working under the very dome of the Capitol, or the pertinacity and bull-dog determination of the Secret Service operatives in keeping this man under their constant supervision. It began to look as if he would never go to bed. But presently there was a movement in the room and in a few minutes the dark-complexioned man in the soft hat came out of the house and walked across the street in the direction of a letter box. He opened the lid and slid a long envelope into the aperture. Then he turned and went back to his lodgings. In a little while the light was extinguished and then “Alexander Cree” retired to sleep the sleep—if not of the just at least of the industrious man.

But the Secret Service operatives did not go to sleep. They were more alert than ever. One man kept guard over the lodgings of the suspect and the other remained by the side of the letter box. At daylight he got into communication with Chief Wilkie, and as a consequence of his report an arrangement was made with the Postmaster of Washington by which that particular letter box was opened, and the particular missive dropped into the box by the man from Toronto turned over to Chief Wilkie. A short time later a “council of war” was held in the office of the Chief of the Secret Service. The object of interest was the suspected letter. It was in an ordinary white, oblong envelope, and it was addressed to F. W. Dicken, 1248 Dorchester Street, Montreal, Canada. The address instantly called to mind the report of the operative in Toronto. He had heard the mysterious stranger say to the Naval Attaché “so I am to write to the address you have given me in Montreal.” It was evident that they were “getting warm” as the children say in their games. But when the letter was opened all need for conjecture was past. The amazing communication read as follows:

“A cipher message has been sent from the Navy Department to San Francisco directing the Cruiser _Charleston_ to proceed to Manila with 500 men and machinery for repairs to Dewey. A long cipher has been received from Dewey at Department at 3.30 o’clock. They are translating it now. Cannot find it out yet. Have heard important news respecting movements of colliers and cruisers. _Newark_ at Norfolk Navy Yard; also about the new Holland boat, as to what they intend to do with her and her destination, I shall go to Norfolk soon to find important news. My address will be Norfolk House, Norfolk, Virginia, but shall not go until Tuesday.”

This was signed “G. D.” and was marked “in haste.” The first move of Chief Wilkie was to make sure that the man was guarded. His investigations proved that there was no possibility of “G. D.” escaping from Washington. Then he got into communication with the Secretary of War and the Secretary of the Navy and informed them of the information that had been intercepted. The immediate effect of this was to tighten the discipline in each of these Departments. All unauthorized persons were to be kept out of the building and a strict watch was kept upon all of the employees. The inference was that some one in the Navy Department had been co-operating with “G. D.” and that this person had supplied him with information upon his return from Canada.

The question of taking the spy into custody was next considered. It was decided that this should be done at once. As it was a matter that technically came under the military power of the Government, Chief Wilkie made application to the War Department, and as a result of this Captain Saye of the Eighth Artillery, with a corporal and one other man, was ordered to report to him for duty. Thus fortified, the head of the Secret Service Division started for the apartment on E Street. The little procession going from the Treasury Department attracted very little attention, and the passers-by did not realize what was going on. But all of those in the little group understood the importance of their mission so far as the Government was concerned.

It was eleven o’clock at night and when they arrived at the house occupied by “G. D.” they discovered a light burning in the second-story room. It was evident that the spy was continuing his habits of industry. The Chief gained admission without any difficulty, and, followed by the others, made for the upper room. The supposed Alexander Cree was sitting at his desk engaged in writing. He seemed surprised at the intrusion, but received his callers politely. Evidently his calling had accustomed him to visits at all hours of the day and night.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

“To start with,” said the spokesman of the invading party, “we would like to have the letter you are writing and all of the documents you have in that desk.”

For the first time he showed surprise. He smiled faintly and then rejoined:

“Perhaps you will let me know the cause of this unexpected visit.”

“Certainly. We have come to arrest you as a spy!”

Cree turned very white. He steadied himself by resting against the side of a bureau. It was some moments before he was able to speak, and then moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue he murmured:

“Who are you, and what authority have you got for talking in this manner?”

“It’s no use, young man,” was the quick retort, “we have the goods on you, and if you have any doubt about it we can show you the letter which you mailed to Montreal and which has been intercepted by the United States Government.”

The spy looked at the speaker helplessly. His white face contrasted sharply with his black moustache. For a moment he swayed uncertainly, and fell to the floor in a heap. He was a most abject spectacle, and it was necessary to carry him out of the room. That night he spent in a cell, facing a charge of treason against the Government, and wondering what his fate would be.

A mass of compromising letters and papers were found in the room. From some of these it was proven that “G. D.” was a naturalized citizen and a former yeoman on the cruiser _Brooklyn_. What had prompted him to turn against his own country? Could it have been some grievance, real or fancied? Was it Spanish gold? Chief Wilkie discovered many interesting things among the papers that were found in the room on E Street. Among them was a slip of paper which contained what is known as Slater’s Code. It said: “To send add 100; to receive subtract 100.” This was the key to the cipher which he was to employ in sending messages to his employers. The cipher contained thousands of ordinary words arranged alphabetically and having fixed consecutive numbers of five figures each. Why he had not employed it in the compromising communication to Montreal was never known. Possibly over-confidence had made him careless for the moment.

In the meantime Chief Wilkie had his organization working overtime. The United States map in his office containing the little steel pins to indicate the position of his men in different parts of the United States and Canada was consulted repeatedly during the next twenty-four hours. Telegrams in code were sent in all directions. As the result another spy was captured in Tampa, Florida. By one of the curious freaks of fate this man was critically ill when he was taken into custody and died shortly afterwards. But the greatest activity was in Canada. It was learned that the Dorchester Street house had only been leased a few days before, and that it was intended as the rendezvous of the Spanish spies in Canada. It was clear that a private detective agency had been organized in Canada for the purpose of obtaining information concerning the movements of the American troops.

Another amazing thing that was discovered in connection with this spy system related to the manner in which these men were to work. They were to join the United States army and to go with the army of invasion into Cuba, Porto Rico and the Philippines. When the opportunity offered they were to permit themselves to be captured by the Spanish soldiers. After furnishing all of the information possible to the enemy they were to return to the American lines and continue their system of espionage. All of this was worked out with the greatest attention to detail. Each one of the spies was supplied with a plain gold or silver ring. On this was engraved the words “Confienza Augustine.” That was to be their means of identification to the Spanish Generals. Needless to say, the discovery of the plot nipped that scheme in the bud, and rendered it useless for the remainder of the war.

But what Chief Wilkie and his associates desired more than anything else was some evidence to directly connect the members of the late Spanish Embassy with the operations of “G. D.” and the plot in Canada. It came sooner than was expected. One of the Secret Service operatives who investigated the Dorchester Street house found some letters which established this connection. One of them was a communication from Ramon Carranza to Señor Don Jose Gomez Ymas. It was short and sweet. It said: “We have had bad luck for they have captured two of our best spies—one in Washington and the other in Tampa.”

This made it appear that the former Naval Attaché was quite as indiscreet as the supposed Alexander Cree. At all events, the evidence in the case was furnished to Lord Pauncefoote, the English Ambassador to Washington, and, upon his representations, the Canadian authorities made it their business to deport the entire Spanish outfit.

Two days later the Chief of the Secret Service Division went to the jail at the National Capital for the purpose of interviewing the man who had permitted himself to be made a dupe of the Spanish Government. When the door of the cell was opened a dreadful sight met his eyes:

“G. D.,” the chief spy of the Spanish-American war, had hanged himself—a dramatic and horrible climax to one of the most interesting incidents in American history.

XIX

CARL LODY AND SPIES OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST WAR

The world’s greatest armed conflict which began with Austria’s declaration of war against Servia on July 28, 1914, and which has since involved most of the important nations of the earth, has produced hundreds, nay, thousands of spies, but the very secrecy which is so necessary to their work has prevented many of them from looming conspicuously in the public eye.

The grim old Tower of London could tell many a sensational tale if its stone walls had the power of speech. At an early period of the war it was estimated that at least a dozen spies had been executed in the Tower.

That being the case, how many spies were shot without the formality of being brought to the capital for trial? How many were executed after hurried “drum-head” court martials? It is safe to say that hundreds perished and that most of them will go down into history unnamed and unknown, unhonored and unsung.

Every one of the nations at war has utilized spies of one class or another. They were captured within the lines disguised as women, as war correspondents—even as priests. In the very heart of the city of London they were caught masquerading as waiters, as cab drivers, and even as clerks in establishments, both manufacturing and dispensing munitions of war.

Now and then there were glimpses of these war tragedies which for reasons of expediency are destined never to see the light of day. In spite of the censors there were fragments of stories teeming with red blood and human interest, even if not of historic importance.

The censorship on war news was strict, but it did not begin to compare with that applied to everything connected with the apprehension, trial and execution of spies. As a rule, there was no mention at all of these tragic affairs, although earlier in the war readers of the London newspapers might have found in the corner of an inside column two or three lines merely announcing that another foreign spy had met his doom. Who can describe the pathos and tragedy lurking behind those few words of cold type?

One day a squad of soldiers escorted a prisoner into the grim gates of the Tower. He had been caught making tracings of a barracks somewhere, and he was going to suffer the penalty of espionage—which is death. It is true that he was assured of a trial that day, but he saw inscribed over the entrance to the Tower, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” One could see the ashy look on the poor devil’s face as he went through the Traitors’ Gate, and one could imagine all of the details of the impending business after he should be escorted into the Lower Green, where all of the official executions take place.

Women spies were numerous in this war, and as a rule they were more successful at this business than the men. One of them had herself banished as a suspicious character from the German border. This was done in order to deceive the English more easily. At one of the barracks outside of London she soon won a host of admirers among the younger officers. It happened that Kitchener was due about this time on a visit of inspection and the woman determined to exercise her wiles on him. Did she succeed? Let the man who tells the story answer that question.

“One glance at the gaunt figure, rugged face and piercing eyes of the man who had avenged Chinese Gordon robbed her of her assurance. She realized that this man, instead of being a puppet, would be a master. She fled for her life and was never seen again.”

Some time after that Felice Schmidt made her appearance at Marseilles in the rôle of an apple seller. She was in that neighborhood for many days and evidently was acquainting herself with the fortifications with a view to informing the Germans of the conditions existing there. She was young and beautiful and spoke French with a fluency that deceived the soldiers and the natives of the town. The French soldiers, with characteristic gallantry, treated her with much consideration. But one day she was found in a secluded spot making a sketch of one of the big guns. This led to an investigation. Incriminating papers were found in her possession. She was tried by the council of war of the Fifteenth Legion, convicted of espionage and put to death at the Lighthouse shooting range.

Whatever feeling the British public have had against Carl Lody as a German spy, they conclude that he went to his death with the courage of a soldier. Since his execution it has been whispered that he had a romance with a young girl in Berlin, and that had he succeeded in returning to Germany, he would have been welcomed with open arms by a rosy-cheeked damsel who loved him for the dangers he had braved. In some ways his case was similar to that of the unfortunate Major André, who was captured as a British spy during the American revolution and condemned to death. On the night before he was executed, Lody spent his time in the Tower writing letters to those nearest and dearest to him. One of these pathetic missives was addressed to his sister and read as follows:

“_My darling_: I have trusted in my God and He has decided.
Through many of the dangers of life He has guided me and has
always saved me. More than to millions of others He has shown
to me the beauties of this world and I may not complain. My
hour has struck and I must take my way through the dark valley
as many of my good, brave comrades have during this dreadful
struggle of nations.

“Where I am going there is no worry and there are no alarms.
May my life be judged worthy to be an humble sacrifice on
the altar of the Fatherland. The death of a hero on the
battlefield is perhaps more beautiful, but that has not been
my lot. I die here in a hostile land, silent and unknown; yet
the consciousness that I die in the service of my country makes
death easier. I shall die as an officer, not a spy.”

It is estimated that nearly one hundred persons have been tried for espionage in Belgium alone and that at least thirty of these have been put to death by the Germans. The list includes a former burgomaster of Hisselt. The spirit of the Belgians, in spite of their trying position, has amazed friend and foe alike.

The story of a young woman who tried to serve her country and the Allies reads like the pages of an old romance. She managed to get a passport from a German officer giving her the right to leave Belgium, but before going she got into the German camp and became possessed of some valuable information relating to the future movements of the army. This was sketched on thin paper, placed inside the lining of her hat. Her whole aim now was to get out of Belgium without being searched.

She secured a conveyance and started for the border. At intervals of every few miles she was halted and searched.

But as her passport was a letter of recommendation, these searches were fortunately of a perfunctory character. At last she reached the point where it was needful to pass only one more sentinel. As she approached this point, near the border, she heard the order:

“Halt—who goes there?”

The vehicle was stopped and the sentinel, after looking at her papers, made the customary search. It revealed nothing of a forbidding nature. She was congratulating herself that all was well when the wife of a German officer advanced and asked the sentinel:

“Have you looked in the lining of her hat?”

The girl’s heart fell, as well it might. The sentinel made a second search and found the incriminating document. She was tried, convicted and shot as a spy.

Another tale relates to a German spy who actually enlisted with a Scottish regiment in France. He was blonde and looked like a native of Scotland. Indeed, there was no trace of German accent in his conversation. He must have lived in Scotland for some years as he had an astonishing amount of information concerning that country. Some of his fellow soldiers insisted that he even had a bit of burr on his tongue, so much did his conversation resemble that of a real Scot. At all events, he is said to have gained command of a company of Scotch Fusiliers. He gave the order to charge and led his men into a trap. Whether he tried to escape is not known, but, at all events, the ruse was discovered and an investigation made. The result satisfied the authorities that a spy was in their midst, and under orders from the colonel of the regiment this pretended Scot was taken out and shot.

Another case that has caused no end of discussion concerns a woman known as Fanny La Place. It was said at one time that she was German and her case has been compared with that of Edith Cavell, the British nurse who was put to death at Brussels. But this parallel is denied strenuously by the French, who give out a statement to the contrary. According to this information, her right name was Felice Pfast. She was a French woman born at Nancy in 1890. She went to Metz in 1914 and later received permission to visit her mother in Belgium. While there, it is said, a German official proposed that she gather military information in Paris. She spent three weeks in Paris and then reported the results to Germans, who, she admitted, paid her 5,000 francs to undertake another mission. She was caught in the act of spying at Marseilles and admitted she had been commissioned to gather military information. On July 10 she was unanimously condemned to death by a court-martial.

Another alleged spy in the great war was Captain Otto Feinat of the Russian army. He was well known in Ruman and was in charge of the judicial proceedings following the Jewish massacres at Kishineff in 1903. He held responsible military positions after that, but it was lately claimed that he had been in some compromising correspondence with some friends in Germany. The evidence against him was circumstantial. He protested from the outset that he was loyal to Russia, but in spite of this he was condemned and sent to Siberia for a long term of penal servitude.

Was he guilty? Who can tell? He had the consolation—maybe a poor consolation—of knowing that scores of other Russian officers have lately been sent into banishment on circumstantial evidence.

Then there is the remarkable story of Colonel Miassoyedorff, who was attached to the staff of the Russian Tenth army corps in East Prussia. The Tenth was one of those that met with disastrous defeat in the Mazuirian lake district. It was under the command of General Rennykampf, and in one of these defeats lost 70,000 prisoners. In a second defeat it lost 50,000. The circumstances in each case were similar. The unexpected arrival of a large force of Germans served to defeat the invaders, and caused them to take to their heels, thus transforming an anticipated victory into a most humiliating rout.

An investigation was started and all of the circumstances pointed in the direction of Miassoyedorff, an interpreter on the staff of the Tenth army. One soldier said that he recognized Miassoyedorff as a man who had been connected at one time with the German army. It was further alleged that at the outbreak of hostilities he had been the head of the German spy system and one of the highest officers of the political police. Charged with these former connections, he denied them most emphatically.

“I deny the charge,” he cried, “and I defy my enemies to produce the slightest proof of its truth.”

Further charges were made that while he was in command of frontier guards at Verjoblova, only a few miles from the border, he had repeatedly visited the Kaiser and made reports to him. When asked what he had to say to this second charge he merely folded his arms, smiled and said:

“I deny it!”

But appearances were against him, and after the defeats they had just sustained, the Russians were in a mood to accept any explanation of their humiliation. So Colonel Miassoyedorff, in spite of his protestations, was declared guilty and was executed.

Was he an innocent man, or was he the spy of the Kaiser?

History may tell us the truth, but history in cases of this kind is just as apt to be in error as contemporaneous reports. Such men are unknown, unhonored and unsung for two reasons. The first is that the very nature of their profession renders it necessary for them to lead a dual existence. If they are innocent, their innocence is rarely proclaimed because it would be an admission of error. And whoever heard of such an admission? On the other hand, if they are actually spies those who care for them most would fain permit their memory to rest in peace.

The story of the activity of German spies in the United States would make a book in itself, but it would be disconnected, fragmentary and unsatisfactory. There have been any number of unproved charges, any amount of unfinished stories and countless plots that never came to a head. But enough has been proven to indicate that this country has been filled with spies and special agents of the Kaiser. Chief Flynn, of the United States Secret Service, with the comparatively small force under his direction, has performed wonders in ferreting out these offenders against the peace and honor of this country. Scores of arrests have been made and there have been a number of important convictions. Most of these have been in connection with the destruction of munition plants, and a few have been violations of our laws in an endeavor to hatch plots against Great Britain and France.

Perhaps the most striking instance of pernicious activity on the part of German representatives was that of Captain Karl Boy-Ed and Captain Franz von Papen, naval and military attachés, respectively, of the German Embassy at Washington. For a long time they were a thorn in the side of the American Government. The President and the Secretary of State were reluctant to act because of their desire to preserve friendly relations with the German nation. Finally, conditions became unbearable, and on the last of October, 1916, the State Department asked for the recall of Boy-Ed and von Papen. It was announced at the time that the action of this Government against the German attachés was due to no single incident in either case, but was based on an accumulation of improper activities connected with the handling of German military and naval matters in this country. It was hinted at the time that one of the strongest reasons for the action was the connection of one of the attachés with a movement to set up a scheme in Mexico detrimental to the interests of the United States.

One can only marvel at the patience of our Government under the circumstances. Captain Boy-Ed’s name at the time was prominently mentioned in connection with the Richard Peter Stengel passport case, with the Werner Horn dynamiting case, and with the queer diplomatic fiasco in connection with the case of Dr. Constantine Dumba, the Austrian Ambassador. Germany informed the United States on December 6, 1916, that she desired to know upon what grounds the State Department asked for the withdrawal of Captains Boy-Ed and von Papen. Secretary Lansing, on the following day, replied that the military and naval activities of the attachés constituted their principal offense, but did not discuss the facts or the sources of information. On December 10, Count von Bernstoff, the German Ambassador, informed Secretary Lansing that the German Emperor had acquiesced in the request of the United States for the withdrawal of the attachés, and before the end of the year both of them had departed for Germany.

Events moved rapidly in the United States after that. On Saturday, February 3, Ambassador Bernstoff was given his passports, and on April 6, 1917, the Congress, upon the recommendation of the President, declared that a state of war existed with Germany. From that day forth the Secret Service, and all of the forces of the Government were used in rounding up and arresting spies and suspects.

Many hundreds of arrests Were made by Secret Service agents and other officers of the Government and a score of convictions secured. A large number of suspected persons were interned at Fort Oglethorpe, in Georgia. Probably not one of the arrested persons could be ranked as a great military spy, and yet when all of their activities were pieced together they must have been of great value to the Imperial German Government. The varied character of the work they were doing for the enemy indicated that it must have been more or less systematized, and that it was in all probability under the direction of some one person acting as the master spy.

For instance, on the 15th of July, 1917, an alien was indicted by the Federal Grand Jury, in New Orleans, on the charge of being a spy. It was learned that the man had been hovering in the neighborhood of the local naval station for many days at a time. Once he was seen to be making notes in a book. At a given time his rooms were searched, and the authorities found a number of blue prints and plans of the naval station in his possession. He was indicted on the charge of obtaining this information clandestinely “and for the purpose of supplying it to the enemy, the Imperial German Government, against the peace and dignity of the United States.” The case attracted much interest because it was the first time since the days of reconstruction that any one had been indicted in New Orleans for a plot against the United States.

About the time of the New Orleans incident a German nobleman was arrested in Toledo, Ohio, for activity in the interest of the Kaiser. The man had made a sensational escape from Canada, about eighteen months previously. He had been arrested in Quebec on a spy charge, and was being taken in an automobile to St. Thomas, Ontario. Near the outskirts of the town he attacked the official who was driving the car, and knocking him into a state of insensibility, escaped. He took the badge and the revolver of the stricken man, and made his way to the United States, coming into this country by way of the Niagara Falls bridge. He admitted that he had once been a captain in the German army, but denied that he had engaged in any unlawful business in the United States.

In the early days of the participation of the United States in the war, and when the people of this country did not even know of the departure of our war vessels for the other side of the Atlantic, the fact of their departure was published in Berlin, four days before they actually arrived in Queenstown. This was a serious leak, to say the least. The American newspapers scrupulously observed the request of the Secretary of the Navy to avoid publishing the date of the departure or arrival of any vessel. Where did the Berlin authorities obtain their information? That was a question which agitated many persons. It was solved when the Secret Service, early in July, of 1917, arrested three men in New York, for conducting a private postal service, in the interest of Germany. It was claimed that for months they had been sending “mail” to Scandinavian countries for transmission to Germany. These letters were entrusted to the sailors on the ships, and ordered to be handed to certain persons in Norway and Sweden, and by them sent to their destination in the German Capital.

Several bundles of these letters were seized by the representatives of the American Government. It is a significant fact that many of them were in code. They came from all parts of the United States, and from Mexico and South and Central America. The letters were written in English, Spanish and German. Some of them were business communications, and were admittedly harmless. It was proven that this novel “mail service” worked in both directions, letters going to and from Germany. It was also shown that remote parts of Mexico were in wireless communication with Berlin. Significance was also attached to the fact that parts of wireless outfits had been brought in on some of the Scandinavian boats, and that these were afterward erected in Mexico. None of the men were subjected to any pressure on the part of United States officials, and all were told that they had the right to be represented by counsel, if they so desired.

But these arrests in different sections of the country, almost simultaneously, and the varied character of the activity of the men involved, helps to confirm the statement, made on the floor of the Senate, that during and before the war, we had thousands of German spies in the United States.

THE END

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences of inconsistent hyphenation have not been changed.

Redundant Chapter titles have been removed from this eBook.

Page 163: “exclaimed Tandy” was printed as “explaimed Tandy”.