ENEMY AGENTS UNMASKED

Wairarapa Times-Age, 9 July 1940, Page 6

ENEMY AGENTS UNMASKED

LUCK OFTEN PLAYG BIG PART. FIGHT AGAINST SECRET EMISSARIES. The late Sir Tlasil Thomson, who was head of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard during 1914-18, said after the war: “The country owes a lot to the grim and often dull, hard work and dogged perseverance of the men and women who engaged in the underground fight against the secret emissaries of the enemy. Yet. as Sir Basil once admitted to me, luck did play a part, writes Charles Kingston, in a London journal. There was an amateur vocalist who fancied himself for his rendering of “The Last Rose of Summer.” He had a job in the Censorship Department, and one day a parcel containing half a dozen songs was handed to him for examination. The sender's name and address indicated that he was a British subject, with a business in South London, and it seemed obvious that he was sending an innocent present to a friend in Amsterdam. The young man glanced at the song sheets until he tame to one that happened to be “The Last Rose of Summer.” He ran through the song, humming the accompaniment. Suddenly he stopped. “That’s not right,” he said, pointing to the bottom line. • “The notation has been changed.” The music publishers supplied the information wanted, the cypher department got to work, a vital message to Germany was intercepted, and a dangerous spy was captured. In another case a German spy in the North of England, who had disguised himself as a canteen worker and local preacher, was taking stock of a shipyard when an elderly man with a large amount of alcohol and money on him lurched against the onlooker. The spy promptly robbed the half-conscious drunkard, but he was seen and arrested. The police searched his lodgings, and instead of finding evidence of other thefts discovered proofs of his career as a spy. Old soldiers who were in training in Sussex in 1917 may recall the fuss caused by the five-fold postponement of their crossing to France. On each occasion German submarines were lying in wait, and it was evident that there was an efficient sps near the camp. It was not until the troops safely reached their destination that the culprit was identified," and he proved to be a popular foreigner who had been given a commission in the British Army. The other day an indignant taxpayer wrote to a newspaper complaining that a novel he bought at Dover was confiscated at a French port. Of course, it was. A novel makes an excellent basic code for a spy. A tiny inkspot on selected letters and words can “speak volumes” to the agent of the enemy on the other side. This was a common device in the 1914-18 war, and M. 1.5, the War Office Intelligence Department, and the Special Branch at Scotland Yard are taking no chances. The spy who is most dangerous to us and most useful to the enemy is the secret agent who is able to travel unmolested between England and the Continent. In 1914-18 spies disguised themselves as neutral commercial travellers, soldiers and sailors and even Red Cross nurses. A pretty girl traveller was successful —for a time. She was a dancer and singer, passing under a French name, and scored a “hit” as an entertainer at soldiers’ camps in England. She must have collected a vast amount of information, and doubtless she delivered messages when she crossed the Channel to perform at camps in France. There a staff officer recognised her as the wife of the German gardener ho had employed before the war. An inquiry established the fact that she had betrayed a military secret which had resulted in half a battalion being wiped out. i But all the spies were not caught, One who evaded detection from start to finish was an official in our own censorship department. A popular “boss.” he specialised in looking after the comfort of the women employees—and was a regular line of communication between London and Berlin for four years.

Another naturalised British subject proclaimed his patriotism by ordering his only son to enlist on the outbreak of hostilities. Neighbours regarded him as a patriot, but he was a spy in the service of Germany. His English wife and English-born son were entirely ignorant of his Jekyll-Hyde existence until he was arrested.

Even in spying there can be humour as well as tragedy. Chief-Inspector Ward, of Scotland Yard, allowed an elderly Gorman to live in peace because he knew that for £5 a month the harmless old man was sending extracts about the Army and Navy from Whitaker's Almanac. Ward considered il patriotic to let the enemy throw some of his money away.