Read Online Strange Intelligence: Memoirs of Naval Secret Service by Hector C. Bywater, H. C. Ferraby - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hector C. Bywater, H. C. Ferraby
Tags: Historical, Espionage, History, Politics & Social Sciences, Military, True Crime, Autobiography, Intelligence & Espionage, World War I, Memoirs, Politics & Government, Specific Topics, Naval, Engineering, Engineering & Transportation
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planted on him, and to this day I don’t believe the German security service ever had the slightest idea of what my real mission was during the years I worked under their noses.
Another man who was present when this story was told had also worked for our intelligence service in Germany.
‘I once had a bad fright,’ he said, ‘but mine went a bit further than yours. I was actually detained on suspicion – and then got away with it.’
He paused, and his listeners sat in expectant silence.
‘It does turn your stomach over, doesn’t it?’ he added after a moment, and then went on:
I had been up in one of the German naval bases, with a perfectly legitimate business to cloak me, and had gathered quite a lot of good information. I naturally did not send in a report from there, but waited till I was in an inland city. Then I wrote out a pretty full despatch in code, and put it into an envelope, with the address typewritten. I wrote another letter, just a chatty note, to a friend in Leeds, addressed the envelope in my own handwriting, choosing an envelope of a different shape and colour from that containing the report, and went out to post them both.
I had just dropped them into the pillar-box when I felt a touch on my arm. A German policeman and a man in plain clothes were standing by me.
‘Are you Herr So-and-so?’ asked the man in plain clothes.
I admitted it.
‘Would you mind coming with us to the town hall to show your papers?’
It was a most polite way of putting the request, and anyway I couldn’t refuse. So I accompanied them in a cab, though I did not enjoy the ride. It really looked as if the game was up.
At the town hall I was taken into a room, there to be confronted by the local chief of police and a man whom I at once spotted as one of the senior men in the German naval intelligence department. That made it pretty certain that my number was up.
‘Did you post some letters just now?’ I was asked, after they had established my identity and examined my papers thoroughly.
I admitted having posted one letter, told them quite frankly what the envelope looked like, and the name and address it bore, and gave them an outline of the contents – all the gossip I had sent to my friend at Leeds.
Then they brought in a mail-bag. All the letters in that box had been collected immediately after I had posted mine, and had been sent round to the town hall in this sealed bag. The seals were broken and the letters turned out on a table. Of course, the only one for which I had any eyes was that containing my report. It seemed to me by far the most conspicuous letter in the heap.
The Chief of Police went through the collection slowly and methodically until he came to the letter of which I had told them.
‘You permit me?’ he asked with ironic politeness, picking up a paper knife to slit open the envelope.
With perfect calm, and equal irony (I hope), I bowed my consent.
He opened the letter, and he and the intelligence officer read it through. The contents, of course, were exactly as I had described them.
And all the time that other infernal letter lay neglected on the table, and I had all I could do not to stare at it. The incident was really funny, though I am afraid the joke did not strike me just then.
They scrutinised my Leeds letter with a magnifying glass. They tested it for secret inks. They tried to read a cipher into it, and that part of the performance I really did enjoy. The Berlin intelligence man had brought several code books with him, and he tried them all on that perfectly innocent letter.
Of course, they went through the pile for another envelope like mine, or for one bearing similar handwriting. They had my secret report in their hands half a dozen times at least, but it aroused no suspicion, though the first time they picked it up my heart did miss a beat.
At length, near midnight, they released me, with apologies and an unconvincing explanation that they were on the track of an
Another man who was present when this story was told had also worked for our intelligence service in Germany.
‘I once had a bad fright,’ he said, ‘but mine went a bit further than yours. I was actually detained on suspicion – and then got away with it.’
He paused, and his listeners sat in expectant silence.
‘It does turn your stomach over, doesn’t it?’ he added after a moment, and then went on:
I had been up in one of the German naval bases, with a perfectly legitimate business to cloak me, and had gathered quite a lot of good information. I naturally did not send in a report from there, but waited till I was in an inland city. Then I wrote out a pretty full despatch in code, and put it into an envelope, with the address typewritten. I wrote another letter, just a chatty note, to a friend in Leeds, addressed the envelope in my own handwriting, choosing an envelope of a different shape and colour from that containing the report, and went out to post them both.
I had just dropped them into the pillar-box when I felt a touch on my arm. A German policeman and a man in plain clothes were standing by me.
‘Are you Herr So-and-so?’ asked the man in plain clothes.
I admitted it.
‘Would you mind coming with us to the town hall to show your papers?’
It was a most polite way of putting the request, and anyway I couldn’t refuse. So I accompanied them in a cab, though I did not enjoy the ride. It really looked as if the game was up.
At the town hall I was taken into a room, there to be confronted by the local chief of police and a man whom I at once spotted as one of the senior men in the German naval intelligence department. That made it pretty certain that my number was up.
‘Did you post some letters just now?’ I was asked, after they had established my identity and examined my papers thoroughly.
I admitted having posted one letter, told them quite frankly what the envelope looked like, and the name and address it bore, and gave them an outline of the contents – all the gossip I had sent to my friend at Leeds.
Then they brought in a mail-bag. All the letters in that box had been collected immediately after I had posted mine, and had been sent round to the town hall in this sealed bag. The seals were broken and the letters turned out on a table. Of course, the only one for which I had any eyes was that containing my report. It seemed to me by far the most conspicuous letter in the heap.
The Chief of Police went through the collection slowly and methodically until he came to the letter of which I had told them.
‘You permit me?’ he asked with ironic politeness, picking up a paper knife to slit open the envelope.
With perfect calm, and equal irony (I hope), I bowed my consent.
He opened the letter, and he and the intelligence officer read it through. The contents, of course, were exactly as I had described them.
And all the time that other infernal letter lay neglected on the table, and I had all I could do not to stare at it. The incident was really funny, though I am afraid the joke did not strike me just then.
They scrutinised my Leeds letter with a magnifying glass. They tested it for secret inks. They tried to read a cipher into it, and that part of the performance I really did enjoy. The Berlin intelligence man had brought several code books with him, and he tried them all on that perfectly innocent letter.
Of course, they went through the pile for another envelope like mine, or for one bearing similar handwriting. They had my secret report in their hands half a dozen times at least, but it aroused no suspicion, though the first time they picked it up my heart did miss a beat.
At length, near midnight, they released me, with apologies and an unconvincing explanation that they were on the track of an
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