Читать книгу Secrets of German Espionage - Bernard Newman - Страница 7

In a perfect world Secret Service will be unnecessary. Unfortunately, our own world is far from perfect, and espionage is essential—as it always has been, from the days when Moses sent forward his spies into Canaan, to the time when Wellington wanted to know what was happening on the other side of the hill. The early years of the present century saw a whirl of activity, which itself was naturally dwarfed by the espionage of 1914-18. In war-time Intelligence is vital; without it, an army is like a body without a brain. Few people realize the vast load of work and responsibility carried by the Military and Naval Intelligence Officers, censors and spies. It is estimated that during the World War over half a million people were directly engaged on Intelligence work in the belligerent countries, and of these more than fifty thousand were active spies.

In post-war years the spies of Europe dwindled to a mere ten thousand, distributed unevenly over the different countries. In war-time tens of thousands of amateur spies are engaged. Consider the occupied provinces of Belgium and France during the war, where every patriotic inhabitant yearned to serve his country. At that time the districts were literally littered with spies—amateur, yet determined and often resourceful. The successful spy of peace-time is usually a professional—by choice or compulsion.

First come the military, naval and air attachés at all principal embassies and legations. These might be called official spies—they would not like that designation, but it is substantially accurate. I ought to emphasize at once that it is no part of their duty to engage in the shady side of espionage. Their official work is perfectly straightforward, a gentleman’s job, indeed.

They are sent to all countries, potential allies and enemies alike, to keep a sharp look-out on the appropriate armed forces. It is their duty to study all developments of their respective arms. A vast amount of information is presented to them—it is not appreciated by the average man what a considerable exchange of ideas takes place between the staffs of different countries. This suggestion, I know, conflicts with prevailing ideas—in fact, it robs many books of fiction of the very basis of their plot. In such books the German spy will go to great trouble and expense—to say nothing of thrilling danger—to secure a new map which has just been published by the British War Office. His trouble is quite unnecessary: when the map is published, British officials make a present of a copy to the German military attaché. Similarly, the Germans present the British military attaché in Berlin with military productions. This all makes for simplicity. If it were not done, it would be necessary for the Germans to steal the British map and the British to steal the German.

An acute observer can gather a good deal of real information from what he is told and what he sees. Both kinds require interpretation as well as reception. The military attaché will be taken on manœuvres and a staff officer will be attached to him to explain what is happening. Yet all the while something vastly different may be happening only a few miles away. Faced with such a situation, visiting officers have been known to resort to unofficial methods. There was one German military attaché who became well known in half the countries in Europe. He was not content with summoning extra assistance from Germany; he even engaged spies himself to supplement his own observation.

He was safe enough until he disobeyed the first commandment of the spy; then there was trouble.

“We can’t have this,” said the offended Government to Germany. “Here is your military attaché, living among us on terms of diplomatic immunity, and all the time he is nothing more than the director of a gang of spies!”

“Dear, dear!” said the German Chancellor of the day. “What a foolish man! What a wicked thing to do! I assure you that he did it entirely without our knowledge. It was, of course, absolutely outside his province—quite unnecessary, too, since our countries are on such friendly terms. I can only imagine that excess of zeal caused him to lose his discretion. However, we will, of course, withdraw him at once—he shall be heavily punished for his fault.”

He was immediately withdrawn. Instead of being punished, however, he was promoted and sent somewhere else, for actually he had done remarkably good work.

Consuls, too, must be included in the category of the official spy. Most of their information is economic—but this is often just as important as any item of military or naval news. As in the case of the attaché, the consul’s calibre is shown not by the official information he collects, but by the use he makes of it.

The Germans have never hesitated to employ their consuls more openly. The German consul at Madrid during the World War co-operated with the naval attaché in directing a vast espionage organization, mainly concerned with the provisioning of U-boats seeking shelter on Spanish shores, while the German Consulate at Berne was the headquarters of one of the widest systems of espionage that Europe had yet known. Much of the information gathered in France found its way to this extraordinary building on the outskirts of the city. It was fitted up like the dream of an imaginative novelist who is also a conjurer. The protective devices were amazing. Burglar alarms started at the garden gate, and if an intruder wandered from a fixed path he was liable to fall into prepared traps which were painful, if not indeed fatal. An infra-red ray apparatus was alleged to cover the entrance to all doors. Inside, the devices were multiplied. If you trod on certain planks on the floor, then a number of bells would ring in various parts of the house, warning the staff that there was an intruder in the study. If you sat down without warning in some of the armchairs, then so much the worse for you—for you might go clean through the floor. There was a rug in front of the fire, and if you trod on the embroidered rosette in the middle of it, then even that casual action might cause your death, for beneath it was a trapdoor which could be released by a mere press of a button by whoever sat at the desk. You had to be very careful how you touched anything made of metal—a key-ring or window latch. In the course of the war two unfortunate servants of the Consulate who forgot this primary precaution were electrocuted.

The whole place, in fact, was utterly fantastic: it resembled, rather, a Hollywood film producer’s idea of a spy’s headquarters than what it actually was—a very important practical centre of German espionage.

Consuls, by virtue of their commercial connections, are ideal agents for the recruiting of spies—they are, of course, in touch with all their nationals in their own districts. The Germans have never lost an opportunity of impressing upon these people their overwhelming duty to the Fatherland. The instructions would be given innocuously enough; the German consul in the district covering Portsmouth, for example, would get into touch with some local German merchants.

“Now it is understood, I don’t want you to do any spying,” he would explain. “Naturally, I would not think of getting you into trouble with the police. Besides, England and Germany are at peace, and there is no necessity for espionage; but, of course, no one can say how long these halcyon days will last, and if ever there should be trouble between England and Germany we must all be prepared to do our duty to the Fatherland. You agree with that, of course?

“Now what I want you to do is this: you live in Portsmouth, which is an important naval base. I want you to get intimately acquainted with all corners of the town—and particularly its waterways. There must be no spying—that is understood. All you have to do is to take frequent walks about the town and along the waterfront, so that you know every square inch intimately. Get a copy of the municipal map of Portsmouth, and work on that basis. Then, if an unhappy moment of friction ever does arise, you will be able to interpret that map in detail to our naval authorities.”