Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 307, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 December 1914 — LIFE OF SPY 1S BRIEF AND FULL OF EXCITEMENT [ARTICLE]

LIFE OF SPY 1S BRIEF AND FULL OF EXCITEMENT

Notebook of Official in France Discloses Stories of Many Daring Feats. SHORT SHRIFT WHEN CAUGHT Take Most Desperate Chances and Usually Die With, Back to Wall—is Taken In Zone of Battle They Are fried on the Spot. London. —These notes were written by a man engaged by the allies in an official capacity, whose duties continually called him from Paris to the firing lines of the Belgian, English and French, and who thus has unusual opportunities of talking with the soldiers and frequently seeing the battle: The general and his staff have established their headquarters in a village a few hundred yards from the Belgian frontier. From the north comes the roar of heavy German artillery brought up during the night, from the west the duller sound of the big guns of British warships maneuvering four miles from the coast and doing good work. I have slept two hours in a deserted farmhouse in company with three wounded British soldiers and a whining dog, evidently left behind by his master in his flight

A shuffling of feet in the roadway and shouted orders awaken me. A squad of French soldiers led by a lieutenant Is gathered at the door, around two civilians, hands tied behind their backs. Spies! Caught on top of a haystack within a hundred feet of the geneTal’s headquarters. They had been in the neighborhood for a week, it seems, getting food no one knows where. They refused to speak. They had field glasses and note books, with the numbers of French and British regiments. The names of generals and numbers of batteries were found buried in the hay. On both men, sewn In the linings of their caps, were passes through the enemy's lines signed by one of General von Kluck’s alde-de-camps. Their case is settled in advance Interrogated, they neither make denials nor confessions. Simply refuse to speak. Caught at eight o'dqpk, they are tried at 8:30, a broken table serving as judge's bench for a colonel and three captains called hurriedly from staff headquarters. f B|x Shots End Their Lives. A few questions to which no answers are forthcoming, a glance at the notebooks and passes found on the prisoners and. it is over. Back of the farmhouse are a poultry yard and decrepit stable. Against the stable wall, eyes bandaged, hands tied, kneeling, the two Germans are pladed, the six soldiers ten paces away. The lieutenant’s Sword Is raised, six shots mingle Jnto one. The law of war is carried out It is nine o’clock. Such Incidents form a part of every day conversations in the camps and trenches on the firing line. If a spy is caught within the zone of battle he is tried on the spot, the trial consisting of an examination of the papers and documents found on the suspect, the hearing of witnesses and of the prisoner’s defense. If no papers or documents are found and the witnesses are not sufficiently affirmative the suspect Is released or sent to Paris for further examination, according to the views of the commanding officer. If a suspected spy Is caught outside the battle sone, say in Paris, a lawyer is designated to defend him, and in nine cases out of ten the spy is found guilty, and, unless he Is French, In which case he is a traitor and dies. Is only sentenced to hard labor or imprisoned in a fortress. Serves for Country. A French counter-spying system with headquarters in Parts has done good work In sending to a quieter and, we hope, better world, several hun-

dred too well informed Germans. Unlike that of Germany’s, the French organization is recruited among volunteers, all civilians. None are paid in any way and no other incentivft_but to serve France is offered them. In this way the government has secured from all walks of life a good number of men, and even women, fond of excitement, who are after neither gain nor honor, but who would not stoop to such work in time of peace. Up to date a dozen or so of these unarmed soldiers have disappeared, some prisoners, most have ended their lives, eyes bandaged, against a farmhouse wall, 12 German bullets in their bodies. When they started out it was with the understanding that the French government could not recognize them in case of trouble. Those that have died took a chance and lost Th) “flyer” is worth while, for a week at counter-spying will often furnish more excitement than a month in the trenches. The stories of spy chasing are now innumerable in French and British army circles. Here are a few of the most daring attempts made by the Germans since the beginning of the war: S is a large town, 55 miles northeast of Paris, The houses are low, the church steeple alone being visible at any distance. The German artillery bombarded 8 for three days, the church and its steeple alone, much to the surprise of the inhabitants, remaining untouched. The third night of the bombardment a French sentry saw a light from one of the small windows high up in the steeple. The guard was called, and three men sent into the tower, which had seemed to bear a charmed life. There a man was found. For three days his lantern had served the Germans, who trained their guns a few points to the right and left, of the light, certain their shells would strike the town. The spy was janitor of the courthouse; had been for four years, and confessed he was a German, having been sent to B— to report regularly to the military authorities in Berlin, Spy Poses as Priest. Two sentries guard a railway bridge near A . It is ten o’clock at night. The village is a mile away. All day trains loaded with British and French troops have passed over the bridge. A priest approaches the sentries, going to the next village, he says, to give

the communion to a dying farmer. Disregarding orders the sentries, good Catholics, allow the priest to pass. He disappears on the other side of the bridge. Suddenly one of the sentries sees a flicker of light along the ground 50 yards away. A rush to the spot and the good priest is discovered stooping at the base of one of the bridge arches. The stick of dynamite on the ground and blackened fuse in his hand leave no doubt as to his Intentions. The sentries did not wait for a court-martial, but executed the “priest” on the spot Papers found on him proved him to be a captain in a Hessian Hussars regiment.

In a trench near the Belgian border, a few days ago. A jovial old chap, a farmer,’comes along with a basketful of pears.- The shooting has stopped for an hour or so, both sides needing a rest after 12 hours of uninterrupted fighting. A number of farmers tn the region having refused to abandon their homes, no one questions the farmer's presence among the troops, and his basket is soon emptied. As they are given away the farmer Is thanked all around and is just leaving when he Is grabbed by the throat suddenly by one of the troopers, who half chokes his victim before shouting, "He's a German. He was my boss in Paris.” And so it was. For 12 years Joseph Hablg had been chief accountant in a big Parisian wall paper factory. He was German, every one knew ft, but he was a good accountant. Under him worked half a dozen young Frenchmen. Two days before the declaration of war his consul had warned him to leave Paris —and he had. His knowledge of French had been used by his officers when he joined the German army, and he returned. This time he stayed. The last Is the best. In Paris last month, at the war department offices, officers hurry in and out, orderlies pass like the wind, generals and their staffs discuss the campaign In the hallways, a young artillery officer, lieutenant of the general staff, according to the insignia on his collar, walks up and down idly smoking. A captain passes by, asks for a light for his cigar, and remarks, "Nice weather, lieutenant” No answer. The cap-' tain, surprised, repeats his remark. The lieutenant turns away. Angered the superior officer goes after him. The other runs toward a door. . It’s all over in a jiffy. Friend Lieutenant brought Into a private office, answers questions with an over-the-Rhine accent, which Is a trade mark. He. is a lieutenant all right, but in the Eleventh Bavarian regiment He has made the French war office his headquarters for over a week. Some of the Paris papers got hold of the story, which was, of course, cut out by the censor.