The Spy Net (20 page)

One more event was to happen which again focused my attention on the Kaiser. Months later, when I was installed in my office in the rue Stevin in Brussels, liquidating all the British secret service organisations in Belgium and occupied France, I received a visit from one Rubigny – a fictitious name – who, together with a fellow French agent, had been seized many months back by German Secret Police on Dutch soil and dragged several yards across the frontier into Belgium. The Dutch were powerless to do anything about the matter; the Germans declared that they were on Belgian soil when arrested, and as there were no other eyewitnesses, it was simply the agents' word against theirs. The two were condemned to prison in Liège, and when they were released at the time of the Armistice, three years of their life had been spent in confinement. Rubigny seemed a broken man; he raged against the Germans, especially against the Kaiser; he cursed them for the dirty trick they had played on the two of them, and swore he would get even. I tried to calm him, but without much apparent effect.

Shortly afterwards I got news from Holland that Rubigny had been arrested by the Dutch. Apparently he had tried to bribe the Kaiser's cook to poison his Royal master. I intervened with the Dutch authorities; I pleaded that his false imprisonment by the Germans had probably affected his mind. He was released by the Dutch and deported to Belgium. I never heard from him again.

T
HE WAR WAS
over, but not my work. At one time and another during the course of the war, the British secret service had employed over 2,000 agents in Belgium and occupied France, of whom more than 100 had been shot, and several hundred had been imprisoned. The British government could not walk off and leave these people; pensions had to be paid, some form of compensation had to be given to those who had been imprisoned, decorations had to be awarded, and a history had to be written of the organisations in the interior.

I was the logical person to be appointed to the task, for the details were locked up within me, and I alone could tell in most
cases what the services were that each organisation had rendered. No written records had been kept. In the settlement of claims, my presence was necessary to decide what was authentic, and what were the merits of each case. I gladly accepted the mission. I could not wait until the Germans had got completely out of Belgium; I dashed across the border at the first opportunity to meet the brave men with whom I had been working so long. Many I had never met. I wanted to see them, face to face, to talk over the hundreds of incidents which had occurred, to compare notes, to find out reasons which had led up to arrests, to unravel mysteries which had baffled me in Holland – in short, to talk over the great adventure in which we had all played our parts.

I was deeply moved and excited at the prospect of seeing them all. For two and a half years I had sat in Holland running out invisible lines of communication, as it were, into a void, across the German barrier into Belgium, weaving to the left and to the right to make contacts one by one with those who had been so eagerly alert to serve their country. And now I was on my way to meet these hidden watchers whose lifelines I had held in my hands, whose faces I did not know, but whose innermost thoughts and anxieties had been so intimately my own. It was the most dramatic moment of my life.

The logical place for me to head for was Liège; it was the headquarters of the
Dame Blanche
or ‘White Lady’, the greatest of wartime Allied secret service organisations. In Liège I made my way hurriedly to an address which was engraved on my mind, one which St Lambert had communicated to me orally in Holland, and which I had never entrusted to paper. Warned of my coming, the two chiefs, and the heads of the
organisation in each of the Belgian provinces, were waiting for me. As I entered the room where they were gathered, and I stood before them in the uniform of a British officer, they acclaimed me with emotion, and saluted me as their superior officer. I was overcome with their fervent expressions of welcome and loyalty. I found myself in the presence of a group of austere, almost ascetic-looking people, all much older than myself. Three were priests; the others were college professors, engineers, lawyers, and members of the professional classes.

I realised immediately why the ‘White Lady’ had been such a success; here were gathered together some of the most brilliant brains in Belgium, men filled with the highest ideals of patriotism. By the respect which they showed toward their two chiefs, I sensed the discipline which they had imposed upon themselves; I realised that their militarisation was not a fantasy, but that it had been carried out to the letter; these were the officers of a military organisation.

The two chiefs made an indelible impression on me. The one, tall, thin, with dark penetrating eyes and a black scrubby beard, breathed authority. I felt that here was a man who was accustomed to being obeyed; in pre-war days he had been an engineer, high up in one of the Belgian administrations, and it was probably there that he had learned to command and to organise. The other, a professor at the University of Liège, was an exact contrast – a small man with light hair, a long beard, blue limpid eyes, and a voice as soft as that of a woman.

After a luncheon in my honour, I was closeted with the two chiefs, and to them I outlined briefly my plan of action: they were to furnish me with a complete history of their organisation,
showing the role played by each member; give me a list of all their members; provide me with full details concerning the two who had been shot so that I could procure for their families a pension from the British government; and, finally, so that I could arrange for repayment, they were to hand me an itemised statement showing the various sums which I had authorised them to borrow. Not a word did I say about the military status of which, on my own initiative, I had so boldly assured them; I was guiltily conscious that it was going to be extremely difficult to gain the consent of either Belgium or England to confirm such an arrangement, and I must confess to the mean hope that, now all was over, militarisation might not seem so important to the ‘White Lady’ as it had been in the early days of organisation.

But when I had finished outlining the requirements for liquidation, I was immediately put on the mat. I realised that the only thing to do was to tell them the truth. They were so overcome and so aghast that I promised I would move heaven and earth with the British authorities to make good their word to their followers, for they had all enrolled themselves in the organisation as British soldiers, and had even taken an oath of allegiance. Later the British Army council was eventually won over to treat these brave men as soldiers, and the Belgian authorities, after a protracted struggle, also consented to come into line.

It was late in the afternoon when our talk came to an end. From Liège, in a car which the ‘White Lady’ kindly put at my disposal, I set out for Brussels. It was now 25 November, and Belgium was free of the Germans. As soon as I arrived in Brussels,
I started looking for a suitable house and office. They quickly found a house for me on the rue Stevin, a stone’s throw from the British embassy, and there within a few days, with a
cordon bleu
as cook, and with an excellent man as valet and butler, I was comfortably installed. My next step was to call on Sir Francis Villiers, the British ambassador, who had arrived by now, and to him I explained my mission. This fine old man, together with General Lyon, the military attaché; Gurney, the first secretary; and Charles, the third secretary, I was to see again and again during my stay in Brussels; they greatly facilitated my work, and backed me up whenever I needed any assistance or information from any of the Belgian ministries.

I was now ready to start in on the work of liquidation, but I still had to make arrangements with the chief in London about finances. Large sums were to be paid out in claims and pensions, and I had to know what documents and records were required by the British Treasury. Then, too, there was the cost of the liquidation itself: office expenses, assistants, typists, and above all, transportation, in connection with the necessary interviewing of a couple of thousand agents scattered through the whole of Belgium and north-eastern France. Finally, I had to find out what category and class of decorations would be available for rewarding those agents whom I should recommend.

I might have known that C would manage all this for me in the best possible way. I made a flying trip to London to consult him, and had the usual satisfaction of receiving instructions at once definite and flexible – above all, liberal.

‘You alone know what services each individual agent has rendered,’ said he,

The chief kept his word; without a single exception, every decoration I recommended was eventually awarded, and every single claim and pension was paid without a query. It was a pleasure and an inspiration working under these conditions. It was this quality in the chief, this encouragement of initiative, and implicit trust in those subordinates who merited it, which made him so successful in running an organisation which had branches in every neutral country, and which he built up from nothing at the commencement of the war, to the vast machine it was at the end.

I
N ADDITION TO
liquidating the British secret service organisations in Belgium and occupied France, I was called upon to look after all other civilian groups which had rendered service to the British. Of these, the two most important were the organisation of Miss Cavell, which had cared for British wounded and had helped them escape into Holland, and the one headed by Piulunowski, a Belgian of Polish extraction, which had over a period of several years supplied food packages and other comforts to the British prisoners in their temporary prison camps in Belgium, where they were kept until they were evacuated to Germany.

None of the members of the Piulunowski organisation risked their lives, but it was England's duty to consider them for dignified reward, since they performed a great and much needed work of charity. The work was carried out under great difficulties, and often in the face of obstruction and unpleasantness from the Germans. Food was also often contributed by Belgians who were much in need of it themselves. The pitiful condition of many of the prisoners, who had gone through the hell of battle and rough handling by the Germans, moved these hospitable Belgians to compassion and to untold sacrifices. The gratitude shown by the prisoners was now to be officially expressed by their mother-country.

The story of Edith Cavell had created such a stir throughout the world that it was with great interest I undertook the investigation of her organisation, with a view to recommending for decorations the brave companions who had assisted her. At the time of her death, apart from knowing that she was a British nurse who had been shot by the Germans for aiding British wounded to escape, the world did not know the exact details of her organisation. Since then various accounts have been written, notably by Got and by Libiez, who was a member of the Cavell organisation, but in order to make my comments intelligible it is necessary for me to review the story briefly. In my official capacity as liquidator of the Cavell organisation, assisted by Piulunowski and Cutbill, I had many interviews with Braffort, one of the legal defenders at the trial, and with Princess Marie de Croy, the Comtesse Jeanne de Belleville, Madame Bodart, and many others of Miss Cavell's brave associates. I am therefore able to write from considerable authentic information, and,
from my intimate knowledge of German CE methods, can perhaps throw some light on the causes which led to her arrest.

In some sense I could not then, and cannot now, avoid the eerie conviction that I was gaining the most impressive evidence that one could have – the testimony of the resurrected. Comtesse de Belleville, who, when I met her at her chateau, gave me every impression of dedicated, nun-like restraint, had been tried with Edith Cavell, and had stood with her before the court martial to hear the ghastly sentence of execution. The commutation of her sentence had returned her to life inevitably marked by having been in the valley of the shadow of death, and her account of the Cavell organisation, emotionless as it was, affected me profoundly.

After the retreat from Mons, a great number of British wounded were picked up by ambulances, organised by local Belgian doctors and other patriots. However, according to German orders which were published throughout Belgium in proclamation form, they were forced to report these cases to the Germans. Imagine their consternation and emotion when, after they had taken loving care of these wounded, they saw them collected by the Germans for dispatch to prison camps in Germany, to endure behind barbed-wire fences the bad food, wretched and overcrowded sleeping quarters, and the spirit-breaking restrictions, which were so evident in the temporary camps already in use in Belgium.

It was quite natural that an organisation should spring up to help these wounded, quite incapable of undergoing the rigours of a prison encampment, to escape from the small civilian hospitals and homes where they had been sheltered in Frameries, La
Bouverie, Wasmes, Quiévrain, Wiheries, Paturages, and other centres in the neighbourhood of Mons. The rescuers were encouraged in this plan by the fact that some of the wounded had not been reported, and others, such as those in the clinic of Dr van Hassel at Paturages, were sometimes overlooked by the Germans. Towards the end of August 1914, Lieutenant-Colonel Gibbs organised at Wasmes a regular drainage of these officers and soldiers through hiding places in the villages and woods. The fugitives were given Belgian identity cards, food, money, and guides who evacuated them through Ostend, until the fall of Antwerp at the commencement of October 1914. This was a relatively simple task at the time, since there were considerable gaps in the German lines, and an organised control of the Belgian inhabitants had not as yet been created by the Germans; many groups of Belgian refugees were following the same route to England.

With Ostend closed, the British officers and men who still remained in the Mons area, and the Belgian friends who had nursed and hidden them and were now aiding them to rejoin their regiments, had to look to the Dutch frontier for a channel of escape. The problem was not the actual passage at the frontier, for the strict surveillance of 1916 and the electric wire had not as yet been installed, and the
passeurs
of the Campine and those to the north of Antwerp were finding it easy to pass refugees into Holland. The difficulty was to find hiding places in Brussels, mid-way to the frontier, where the men could wait until the moon was favourable and a sufficiently large group had been assembled in readiness for the
passeurs
, who often took as many as twenty men at a time. It was impossible for the
passeurs
to
pick up the men in the Mons area, for the journey to the frontier had to be made at night, and the distance was too great. Besides, most of the Flemish
passeurs
could not speak French, and for the same reason most of the men and officers had to keep out of sight as much as possible.

When Dr van Hassel, whom I have already mentioned, started looking around in Brussels for assistance, it was quite natural that he should address himself to Miss Cavell, who was known to him professionally as the director of a school for nurses in the rue de la Culture; besides, she herself had been nursing the wounded since the commencement of hostilities. Miss Cavell, realising that she had a patriotic duty to perform, readily consented. Sergeant Meachin of the Cheshire Regiment was the first to reach her, and others rapidly followed. As the number increased she gradually enlisted the help of her many friends in Brussels, who each agreed to hide one or two men in their homes. This was the start of the Cavell organisation, which ended so tragically a year later.

In the Mons area the work of collecting the men and dispatching them to Brussels was undertaken by Capiau, who from the commencement had been prominent in caring for the wounded left in the area. He did his work well. He enlisted the active help of Prince Reginald de Croy and his sister, Princess Marie, who undertook to shelter some of the fugitives in their chateau at Bellignies. Mlle Louise Thuliez, a noble Frenchwoman, collected men hidden in the forest of Mormal, and even penetrated as far as Cambrai. The Comtesse Jeanne de Belleville agreed to give refuge to some of the men in her chateau at Montignies-sur-Roc. Capiau himself undertook the procuring of false Belgian identity
cards, and supplied the guides to conduct the fugitives to Brussels. Another group under Libiez sometimes worked with Miss Cavell, and sometimes worked independently.

In this way, a steady flow of men went from the Borinage, or Mons area, to Holland via Brussels. At the start they were mostly recovered British wounded, but later on, they were joined by young Belgians and Frenchmen who wished to enrol themselves in their respective armies. This proved the downfall of the organisation. It became so cumbersome that it was only a matter of time until it had to blow up. In addition, many of the members were engaged in other activities of a compromising nature, such as the publication and distribution of
La Libre Belgique
, an illicit newspaper which, together with
Le Mot du Soldat
, was circulated by patriotic Belgians to offset the propaganda and false news given out in the other Belgian papers, published under German supervision.

I know definitely that Miss Cavell and the leading members of the organisation were not engaged in espionage, but some of the
passeurs
may possibly have been approached by one or another of the Allied secret services in Holland, who were exploiting every possible channel to get information out of Belgium. As I looked over the situation, I realised these mistakes which led the noble associates to disaster. Perhaps the greatest was the very thing which proved their innocence of anything like spying: the Cavell organisation as a whole really had had no specific directing head, as would have been the case with our espionage services: it was made up of a number of loosely linked groups united only by a common ideal. I was surprised that it lasted as long as it did.

Whatever was the cause or whoever was the informer the Germans eventually got on the track of the organisation, and employed their usual tactics. They did not make an immediate arrest, but contented themselves with watching the suspected members for some time. It was on Baucq, one of Miss Cavell's associates in Brussels, that the Germans focused their attention. He was intimately connected with
La Libre Belgique
. It is significant that they arrested him first and that it was not until 15 August, four days later, that the chain of evidence led them to Miss Cavell and Capiau. Were they tracking the illicit newspaper organisation or that of Miss Cavell? We can only conjecture that they first of all went off on one scent and then turned aside to investigate the more important one, which they ran across later by chance. My experience of the German Secret Police was that although they often watched an organisation for weeks to follow all the ramifications, once they made an arrest all the others followed with lightning rapidity to prevent escape. Had they known about Miss Cavell at the time, they would have arrested her simultaneously with Baucq.

Having watched Baucq closely, they knew that he was in the habit of taking out his dog before retiring for the night. To prevent his warning anyone inside the house, or signalling to the outside (as he might have done in the manner of signalling from a letter box) they cleverly waited for him in the street to make the arrest. Having secured their man, they surrounded the house and made a forced entry. There quite fortuitously they found the unfortunate Louise Thuliez, who had a few hours previously arrived from Mons. She at first gave them the false name of Lejeune, but luck was with the Germans; the indiscreet young
woman had a note-book in her possession giving the names and addresses of many members of the Cavell organisation, and, in addition, from her false identity card, signed by Commissaire Toussaint of Paturages, they got an indication of what area to search for the others.

After the arrest of Capiau and Miss Cavell, that of the others followed quickly. Prince Reginald de Croy escaped. The prisoners, thirty-five in number, locked in separate cells, were each told in turn that the others had confessed, and so the Germans were quickly in possession of all the facts.

At the trial, the defenders were the three Belgian lawyers, Sadi Kirschen, Braun, and Braffort, and in addition two Germans; these attorneys divided up the defence of the thirty-five prisoners among themselves. Miss Cavell was in the Kirschen group. Stöber was the German military prosecuting attorney. Bergan and Pinkhoff, heads of the German Secret Police, were the witnesses for the prosecution. Philippe Baucq, Edith Cavell, Louise Thuliez, Louis Séverin, and the Comtesse Jeanne de Belleville were condemned to death. Eight were freed, and the rest got varying terms of from three to ten years' hard labour. Of those condemned to death, Edith Cavell and Baucq were shot at dawn on 12 October 1915; the others had their sentence commuted to life imprisonment.

Knowing that the United States had been asked to intervene by the British government, the Germans passed sentence at 5 p.m. and set the execution for dawn of the next day. Brand Whitlock, the American minister, got wind of it, however, and took immediate action. From his sick-bed, where he was confined by a serious illness, he immediately addressed pleas for mercy to the German
authorities, and instructed Gibson, the Secretary of the Legation, to call on them personally. Gibson, together with the Spanish ambassador, the Marquis de Villalobar, hunted up Baron von der Lancken, the chief of the political department. He appeared sympathetic, but said the matter rested entirely in the hands of Baron von Bissing, the governor-general; von Bissing was implacable, and the execution was carried out.

According to the strict letter of the law, the Germans had a right to execute Miss Cavell and Baucq. Both of them confessed that they realised the seriousness of what they were doing, and that they had received news from fugitives after they had successfully reached Holland. The Germans had fully warned the population by proclamation that all wounded had to be reported, and that aiding their escape was a capital offence. Furthermore, one must consider the very rational motive for this rigorous order: after the Belgian and British retreat, there were left behind hundreds of fugitives who, apart from the possibility of rejoining their units, were an actual menace to the Germans. Right up to a late date in 1915, there were groups of soldiers hidden in the woods on the French–Belgian border; in civilian clothes, armed with a false identity card, they were quickly turned from soldiers into all the appearance of civilians. Many Belgian soldiers in civilian clothes had been sent into Belgium from Holland to blow up bridges and other objectives, and the Germans had reason to believe that this was the work of soldiers wounded and unwounded, left in Belgium after the retreat. This, however, is all that can be said in defence of the Germans. Miss Cavell had nursed many wounded Germans, and in helping British soldiers to escape she was only doing her duty as a British woman.