Читать книгу Secrets of German Espionage - Bernard Newman - Страница 20

Certainly it was highly sensible to insist that the spy should live the character he had adopted—and particularly that he should not live above the income of his adopted class of life! More spies have perhaps been trapped through an unwarranted display of affluence than for any other reason.

It was insisted that any form of disguise should be simple. Instructors demonstrated the surprising change in appearance resulting from the parting of the hair on a different side to the usual. Even a thorough hair-cut has its effects. A few cuts with the scissors, and the arch of the eyebrows can be altered. Neutral glasses are a familiar adjunct to disguise.

The shape of the face is important. For temporary purposes it can be altered by inserting a piece of apple in each cheek. One agent I knew used to put a small metal spring up each nostril, completely altering the outline of the nose. Another used to adopt a familiar stage device—black out a tooth with black grease-paint: the effect was amazing—but the trick was perceptible at close quarters.

Another instruction at the spy school was sound. If an agent is to play the part of a limping man, in the excitement of the moment he may forget to limp. Therefore he should have a permanent reminder—with a pebble in his shoe he is certain to limp. A pebble in both shoes, and his walk will differ very considerably from the normal.

Any tailor will confirm that padded shoulders will make a man appear taller than he is. And every woman appreciates the use of stripes, up or round, to suit her figure. Simple deceptions like these can be invaluable, when a spy has to avoid a policeman armed with his description. There are a dozen devices with clothes which can be very effective—cloth is simpler to manipulate than flesh. The voice is difficult, but the invaluable pebble in the mouth will alter its pitch, and the spy’s wit can disguise its accent. But the eyes are the most difficult of all to disguise.

Notes, it was impressed, should be avoided except when absolutely necessary, in which case they were to be made on cigarette paper or Japanese rice paper, which could be screwed up small and swallowed without difficulty. The spy was instructed to take the greatest care in disposing of the papers; tearing them up and throwing away is, of course, asking for trouble—in older days the charwoman who “did” for a foreign embassy could command a ready sale for the contents of waste-paper baskets. Even burned papers reveal their secrets under microscopic examination.

Many of the lessons were devoted to the training of memory—one of the most successful German messengers during the last war was a “Memory Man” well known on the music-halls. He had one of those freak brains which enabled him immediately to commit to memory any fragment of information he heard once. Often he did not understand the meaning of the news he carried, but though useless as a spy, he was invaluable as an agent.

The spy was taught to use mnemonics in place of open notes: any entries in his pocket-diary must be innocent—he must write not that he saw twenty-five aeroplanes, but that his travelling expenses for the day were twenty-five marks. It was impressed upon him that linguistic gifts should be concealed; this would encourage others to talk more freely. A persuasive and confiding manner must be cultivated; this is invaluable, for naturally the last function of the spy is to be suspected! Sometimes, however, it will pay to affect the mysterious attitude of the spy of fiction—there is a certain type of man who, approached with an intriguing air of mystery, will talk readily.

The Germans have always taught their spies that simplicity must be a feature of espionage work—yet actually this is a trait their activities seldom disclose! Attention to detail is quite rightly stressed—and just as often neglected, as many a German agent has found to his cost. A spy can only make one mistake.

If they have to bargain with a man, the spies were told, they should meet him a long way from his home, so that he would be tired and strained before the encounter. They must never hurry; they must always appear to have a definite destination, and a legitimate reason for being where they were. All pupils were instructed in the use of explosives, for sabotage was likely to form part of their work. Detonators were a special study, and many methods of improvising destructive charges were described. There were nervous moments when the practical work began. After experiments on models of bridges, railway points, and the like, the potential spies were given their own explosives and told to blow up special constructions erected for the purpose in the grounds.

There was some attempt to study foreign psychologies, but, according to my Polish friend, the instruction was primitive. On the other hand, the use of miniature cameras was thoroughly explained, and much practical work was done. I shall later describe some of the ingenious cameras used. (The interesting point about my Polish friend’s tuition is that it varies only in detail from that given by the Germans to their spies during the World War. I have compared notes with graduates of a famous school established in Antwerp in 1916. Except that to-day the Nazis pay greater attention to propaganda and sabotage, their espionage schoolmasters do not appear to have advanced in their technique during the intervening years.)

My friend, a good-looking young man of great attraction, was sternly warned that he was to beware of female bewitchers. He should trust no one—particularly women. It amused him immensely—for despite his youth, he was a man of considerable experience—when a hefty German officer read him a long private lesson of the pitfalls which might await him from the naughty ladies of the streets in foreign countries. No youth leaving the parental roof for the big city was ever given more anxious warning!