nature revolted against the narrow,hide-bound, official routine of a government office. With his brother-in-law, he established an engineering workshop, which soon grew into a small factory, producing high grade precision machinery. Happily married, blessed with a small baby girl of four months, a permanent income assured, a keen participator in all church activities, Lambrecht’s life was fixed. The vista of a peaceful existence stretched before him.
All this was suddenly changed by the war. Into the turmoil of that conflict went all that he had built up.
He resolved to consecrate his intelligence, his fortune, his influence, his life itself if necessary, to the task of freeing his country’s soil from the German invader. Naturally, his first thought was to join the Belgian Army.
But, as happened to so many Belgian refugees, as soon as they reached Dutch soil, he was approached by one of the Allied secret service agents who swarmed in Holland at that time. It was into the hands of Afchain, a Belgian in the employ of B, chief of an intelligence service connected with British GHQ, that Lambrecht fell.
Now a man of thirty-two, his sensitive mind keenly alert, Lambrecht listened attentively to Afchain, weighing how best he could serve his country. It needed little persuasion to get him to return to Belgium for the purpose of organising an espionage service.
In the Catholic circles of Liège, Lambrecht found support. Two Jesuit priests, Father Dupont, and Father Des Onays, and his brother-in-law, Oscar Donnay, helped him recruit a number of former railway employees. With this band of faithful followers, train-watching posts were soon established at Liège, Namur,and Jemelle, from which all troop movements by rail through these important centres could be observed.
The most dangerous work Lambrecht reserved for himself. In spite of rigid surveillance by the Secret Police, he travelled around the country enrolling new agents and identifying German divisions in the various rest areas. As far afield as Belgian Flanders he went spying and recruiting; he even penetrated into the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. On one occasion, at Jemelle, a heavy westward movement of German troops was in progress for several days from the Eastern Front. Realising that concentration for an offensive was probably under way, Lambrecht, without hesitation, jumped on the buffer of a passing troop train, and accompanied it through the night, until he had definitely established its destination. The very boldness of his act outwitted the German Secret Police – a troop train was the last place to look for a spy, as Lambrecht cleverly realised.
In addition to this hazardous work, he often acted as his own courier, the most dangerous role in wartime spying. Slipping past the frontier guards at night, and avoiding the revealing rays of the searchlights, he carried the precious reports, written with a mapping pen on fine tissue paper, and sewed into the interior of the cloth buttons on his clothes, through to Holland. A friend manufactured these buttons in Liège, and it was an easy task to substitute the filling. Good as the concealment was, however, it only protected him in case of a casual search in Belgium itself. Caught at the frontier, his fate would have been sealed – the knives of the German Secret Police would soon have laid bare the compromising contents of those ingenious buttons.
For eighteen months Lambrecht and his faithful assistants keptwatch. Night and day, every train passing through the railway centres of Liège, Namur, and Jemelle, every troop movement through Belgium between the Eastern and Western Fronts, was reported to British GHQ. These reports definitely announced coming offensives, and were far more valuable than any information obtained from stolen or captured documents. The documents might be false, or the Germans might have changed their plans after the dispatches or orders had been written, but the troop movements were
All this was suddenly changed by the war. Into the turmoil of that conflict went all that he had built up.
He resolved to consecrate his intelligence, his fortune, his influence, his life itself if necessary, to the task of freeing his country’s soil from the German invader. Naturally, his first thought was to join the Belgian Army.
But, as happened to so many Belgian refugees, as soon as they reached Dutch soil, he was approached by one of the Allied secret service agents who swarmed in Holland at that time. It was into the hands of Afchain, a Belgian in the employ of B, chief of an intelligence service connected with British GHQ, that Lambrecht fell.
Now a man of thirty-two, his sensitive mind keenly alert, Lambrecht listened attentively to Afchain, weighing how best he could serve his country. It needed little persuasion to get him to return to Belgium for the purpose of organising an espionage service.
In the Catholic circles of Liège, Lambrecht found support. Two Jesuit priests, Father Dupont, and Father Des Onays, and his brother-in-law, Oscar Donnay, helped him recruit a number of former railway employees. With this band of faithful followers, train-watching posts were soon established at Liège, Namur,and Jemelle, from which all troop movements by rail through these important centres could be observed.
The most dangerous work Lambrecht reserved for himself. In spite of rigid surveillance by the Secret Police, he travelled around the country enrolling new agents and identifying German divisions in the various rest areas. As far afield as Belgian Flanders he went spying and recruiting; he even penetrated into the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. On one occasion, at Jemelle, a heavy westward movement of German troops was in progress for several days from the Eastern Front. Realising that concentration for an offensive was probably under way, Lambrecht, without hesitation, jumped on the buffer of a passing troop train, and accompanied it through the night, until he had definitely established its destination. The very boldness of his act outwitted the German Secret Police – a troop train was the last place to look for a spy, as Lambrecht cleverly realised.
In addition to this hazardous work, he often acted as his own courier, the most dangerous role in wartime spying. Slipping past the frontier guards at night, and avoiding the revealing rays of the searchlights, he carried the precious reports, written with a mapping pen on fine tissue paper, and sewed into the interior of the cloth buttons on his clothes, through to Holland. A friend manufactured these buttons in Liège, and it was an easy task to substitute the filling. Good as the concealment was, however, it only protected him in case of a casual search in Belgium itself. Caught at the frontier, his fate would have been sealed – the knives of the German Secret Police would soon have laid bare the compromising contents of those ingenious buttons.
For eighteen months Lambrecht and his faithful assistants keptwatch. Night and day, every train passing through the railway centres of Liège, Namur, and Jemelle, every troop movement through Belgium between the Eastern and Western Fronts, was reported to British GHQ. These reports definitely announced coming offensives, and were far more valuable than any information obtained from stolen or captured documents. The documents might be false, or the Germans might have changed their plans after the dispatches or orders had been written, but the troop movements were
Similar Books
