Читать книгу The World's Greatest Military Spies and Secret Service Agents - Barton George Aaron - Страница 7

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Could the preservation of the life of an officer of the Austrian army on May 26, 1913, have prevented the devastating war in Europe that followed? And if the same man had lived would it have precipitated a war at that time between Austria and Russia?

These questions may remain unanswered to the end of time, but there are students of history who do not hesitate to give an affirmative reply to each of the momentous queries.

The story of Colonel Albert Riddle—that is near enough to his real name to make it clear to those who were within the inner circle and far enough away to protect the feelings of his descendants who are still living—is one of the strangest in history. In its way it takes its place with the Mystery of the Man in the Iron Mask, although in the present case there was never any question of the identity of the victim or of the fact of his death.

Colonel Riddle was connected with the general staff of the Eighth Army Corps. He was one of the favorites of the Austrian Court. He was young, handsome, attractive and with a dash and go about him that made him a general favorite. He had won an enviable record for bravery in battle, and was considered an efficient officer in every sense of the term.

Presently the time came when it was desirable to learn something concerning the secrets of the Russian army plans. Austria, like all other great countries in Europe, had any number of spies, but very few of them were available for the character of work which would be necessary in order to learn the plans of the higher military officers of the Russian Empire. It was in this emergency that Colonel Riddle was called upon. He had a young soldier’s love of adventure and he eagerly volunteered for the delicate and difficult task. He was well supplied with money and authority and eventually he went to St. Petersburg, where he posed as a sort of military attaché of the Austrian embassy. The social side of life in St. Petersburg attracted him immensely and while he devoted part of his time to the work for which he had been assigned, he nevertheless found numerous opportunities for satisfying his love for the pleasant things of life.

Indeed, so genial did he find his surroundings, that he had little or no desire to return home. He became very popular with the ladies of the Russian Court, and participated in many of the social events for which that capital was noted.

But everything has its end, and finally the day came when it was deemed necessary for him to return to Vienna. He reached Austria in due time and made a comprehensive report of his discoveries, a report that was considered acceptable by the higher officers of the Austrian army. After that he retired to his home in Prague, Bohemia. He had many friends there and indulged in what was regarded as a well earned rest. His activities—his military activities—were suspended for the time being, and this high grade spy enjoyed life with more zest than is granted to the ordinary or commonplace person.

But suddenly and as unexpectedly as a bolt from the blue sky came the report that Colonel Riddle was suspected of treason to his country.

He was summoned to Vienna to defend himself from the charges. Now whether they were true or not never has been and never will be definitely determined. At all events the military and social circles of the gayest capital in the world were filled with stories which were not creditable to the fascinating and really popular colonel. These stories, it may be stated with surety, lost nothing in the telling, and as they went from mouth to mouth they assumed proportions which represented Riddle as being one of the most marvelous deceivers of his time.

In the meanwhile the talk took on a new twist. It was contended that if Colonel Riddle lived to be prosecuted for treason the revelations at his trial would make it impossible for Austria to maintain friendly relations with Russia. The gossip said more than that; it said that not only relations with Russia would be broken, but that the bonds between Austria and one of her fully trusted allies would be severely strained. As a matter of fact, there is no telling to what extent Germany and Austria might have found reason to suspect each other had Colonel Riddle gone on the stand and made the revelations which would have been necessary in order for him to defend himself on the charge of treason. He was accused by unknown accusers of not only giving military secrets of Austria and Germany to Russia, but also of having betrayed to Russia the Russian officers who were selling Russia’s military secrets to Austria and Germany. Those who were acquainted with the man were vehement in denying his guilt of any such double faced dealings. At all events, one of the secrets of this talk was that Austria and Germany very materially revised their plans for mobilizing their forces along the Russian frontier.

In the meantime, while Colonel Riddle was in Vienna preparing for the court-martial, the Government had its agents in Bohemia collecting evidence to be used against the accused man. Two of the secret service men who were in Prague burst into his room for the purpose of securing any information that might be obtained there. At first it looked as if they were to have their labors for their pains. Nothing out of the ordinary was found. It was a sort of apartment that might be expected to belong to a comparatively wealthy and popular young man. There were trophies from all parts of the world; souvenirs of his stay at St. Petersburg—this, it must be remembered, was before the days that the capital of Russia assumed the unfamiliar name of Petrograd—and other interesting places. There were numerous private letters, some of them tender love missives. But at the last moment the secret service men discovered a private desk in a corner of the room which, when broken open, disclosed a number of papers of an incriminating character. It was positively declared at the time that if certain of these papers ever became public nothing could prevent a war between Austria and Russia.

And here another curious twist is introduced in this strangest of strange stories. It was asserted in a way that gave it the appearance of verity that some of the papers, had they come to light, would have ruptured, if not entirely broken, the relations between Austria and Germany. Even at that time these two countries were looked upon as the Siamese twins among the nations of Europe. The Austrian authorities were seriously alarmed. They could not contemplate a struggle between their own country and their German ally with equanimity. The question was what to do under these critical circumstances. One of the first things was to take charge of all of the possessions of the unfortunate man. Everything was seized—not only the official papers, but private letters, tailors’ bills, photographs, and all other articles that were found in the room. Not only were the papers seized and sequestered, but his apartments were sealed, thus concluding the first act in the tragic drama.

But the most serious part of the business was still to come. The papers were out of the way; there was no documentary evidence in the case, but the man still remained, and what he might do or say was the unknown quantity in the problem. The strangest part of the queer affair was that in spite of all of these charges and counter charges against the fascinating colonel he was still looked upon as a most patriotic person. It was assumed—and probably with correctness—that while he had been indiscreet and possibly blameworthy, he never really intended to betray his own country. Anyhow the cold facts remained. It was a condition and not a theory which confronted those in authority. The court-martial had been ordered. It was fixed for a certain day. If it took place according to schedule it might strike the spark which would cause a terrific explosion in Europe. If it were postponed, how could the postponement be explained? And even if it were, there would still remain the man who had been indiscreet and who might be again.

It was at this stage of events that Colonel Riddle, who was kept in strict confinement, received a call from two of his fellow officers. They smoked and chatted, and even had a glass of wine together. All of the facts were placed before him in an orderly manner. He was shown that he could not escape under any circumstances and that if he should live, the life of the empire might be threatened. It was the existence of one or the other. He was told, as he knew very well, that any attempt to defend himself would place Austria in the position of having attempted to steal the military secrets of Russia, and further, of being faithless to Germany. Finally, about midnight, they parted, and as the officers left the room one of them with a significant gesture handed Colonel Riddle a loaded pistol.

The next morning when the guard made his regular rounds his eyes met a shocking sight. Colonel Riddle lay prostrate on the floor with a bullet wound in his forehead. The pistol with which the deed was committed lay by his side.

There was much regret, of course. The highest officials of the Austrian Court were heard to express sorrow at the untimely taking off of the popular young officer. His high standing, his unusual ability and his bright prospects for the future only made the tragedy the sadder.

A five line cablegram told the story to America. It is doubtful if one person in a thousand either read it or paid any attention to it. It was simply reported as the suicide of a soldier who was about to be placed on trial for treason. What could be more natural than that a man in the face of impending disgrace—especially when he had been a trusted officer—should take his life? Such things had happened before. Why should it excite any comment?

In the early part of the following month there were whispers concerning the real facts that lay behind the curious story of Colonel Riddle’s suicide. These facts came to light little by little, and finally were woven into a coherent and connected story. Many friends of the dead soldier, who knew that he had fought bravely for his country and had acted as a spy in her interests, also knew that he had become a martyr for the Fatherland.

One of the results of the tragic affair was a reorganization of the entire spy system of the Austrian army. Secrets which had hitherto been known to a score of men were now confined to a comparative few. Every man was placed under suspicion, and even spies whose fidelity had never been questioned before were subjected to the closest scrutiny of other spies whose existence was unknown to them. At the same time the German secret service was reorganized and put in position where the likelihood of a betrayal of state secrets was exceedingly improbable. Even those who were unwilling to believe that Colonel Riddle had been guilty of treason admitted that the looseness of the spy system placed it within the power of many men to betray those for whom they were supposed to be working.

“The Government,” said one officer, alluding to the tragedy that had just occurred, “found it imperatively necessary to close the mouth of one of its own sons. I hope the necessity for such a thing will never occur again.”

Germany has never expressed itself officially in this matter, but those who know a thing or two about military methods may be sure that the important officers in that country fully approved of the manner in which this unfortunate incident was handled. Experience has proved that there is no way to keep military secrets, that there is no protection against the weakness or cupidity of your own spies. Only one man can be trusted with a mobilization plan, and that man is the chief of the general staff. If he fails it is madness to put him on trial. The only reasonable thing to do under the circumstances is to have him efface himself from the earth. Exile is impossible. Death is the only remedy.

Such were the arguments that were used a little over two years ago in order to justify the Riddle case. Since that time dispatches have been coming from Germany, Austria, Italy and various other countries reporting vaguely that documents have been sequestered at the postoffices in these places and that those responsible for their existence have been subjected to drastic military discipline. That, it may be safe to say, means that those who know too much have had to answer with their lives for their indiscretion.

In a short while after the death of Colonel Riddle the incident was forgotten, and so far as people are concerned was relegated to the lumber room of unsolved mysteries—and to that hazy and uncertain section of history which is filled with stories that everybody believes and no one is willing to affirm. But it seems curious indeed that two years after a life had been sacrificed in order to avert war, the nations of Europe should be engaged in a death grapple.

War, like politics, makes strange bedfellows. The fate of nations often rests on the tossing of a coin. Human lives are but the pawns with which the kings and emperors play the game. This was pathetically illustrated in the case of Colonel Albert Riddle. By snuffing out his own life he prevented war between two great empires. And yet, as if by the decree of Nemesis, the Goddess of Justice, these same countries were soon clutching at the throat of one another.