to take the matter up with the Belgian authorities in Havre, if I cannot get satisfaction from you.’ I knew that even if the Belgian military command were to accede to their request, the Belgian secret service could not supply them with a safe means of communication at the frontier. I doubted whether the Belgian service was getting any information at all out of Belgium at that time.
Never in my life have I been afraid to make a rapid decision. I have ever been a gambler, ready to take a risk if there is something big to gain by it. I knew that here was the chance of building up the organisation I had dreamed of, but that I would have to make a promise which, perhaps, I couldn’t keep, or which, perhaps, would get me into trouble. I told St Lambert that I would communicate with the chief in England, and that within a day or two, I would give him a reply.
It was useless for me to refer the matter to higher authorities; I knew that even if the War Office was willing to grant their request, it would be necessary to get the consent of the Belgian government, and that many useful months would be lost. The next day, at peace with my conscience, I told St Lambert that their request had been granted, and that he could write a letter to this effect, which I would cause to be delivered to any address he indicated in Brussels or Liège.
After the Armistice, it took a great fight to make good my promise. Later on, it will be told how this was achieved. Theireventual militarisation was a just reward for the splendid services they rendered.
St Lambert, an engineer and executive in one of Belgium’s biggest engineering works, was an intelligent man. There were many questions he could have asked me; he could have embarrassed me by demanding guarantees or an official letter from the War Office. He was a practical man, however, whereas he had told me that the leaders of the group in Belgium were idealists. I think he realised the audacity of their demands, and having obtained a favourable reply from me, he was glad to let the matter drop. He wrote the letter I requested, gave me two contact addresses, and left for Havre to place his services at the disposal of the Belgian government. He kept the promises I exacted from him; he never mentioned the matter to a soul until after the war.
Our first message contained St Lambert’s letter, instructions as to the sort of information required, suggestions as regards organisation, and the sum of £500 for preliminary expenses. We instructed our courier to make his own arrangements with the letter box, or contact man, in regard to the days and the time he should pick up the reports.
We received a prompt reply, containing some military information and a promise of train-watching posts at Liège, Namur, and Brussels. We were also informed that the organisation would be called La Dame Blanche , after the legendary White Lady whose appearance would herald the downfall of the Hohenzollerns. The name was appropriate, for they certainly did their share in contributing to the defeat of the German Army, and ultimately to the abdication of the Kaiser.
The organisation developed rapidly. In a brief time, therewere close upon 200 agents enrolled in this organisation. At its head were two leaders: one Walthère Dewé a brilliant engineer, formerly in the employ of the Belgian government, and the other Herman Chauvin a college professor. There was no need to tell these men how to organise. They had lived in contact with the Germans for nearly three years, and knew the danger they were running. They realised the importance of organising their service on our basis of independent and isolated nests. They studied the methods and movements of the German Secret Police, and were able to outwit them at every turn.
With Belgium covered so efficiently by La Dame Blanche and our other organisations, it was not long before we were established in the occupied territory in France. For two years, none of the Allied
Never in my life have I been afraid to make a rapid decision. I have ever been a gambler, ready to take a risk if there is something big to gain by it. I knew that here was the chance of building up the organisation I had dreamed of, but that I would have to make a promise which, perhaps, I couldn’t keep, or which, perhaps, would get me into trouble. I told St Lambert that I would communicate with the chief in England, and that within a day or two, I would give him a reply.
It was useless for me to refer the matter to higher authorities; I knew that even if the War Office was willing to grant their request, it would be necessary to get the consent of the Belgian government, and that many useful months would be lost. The next day, at peace with my conscience, I told St Lambert that their request had been granted, and that he could write a letter to this effect, which I would cause to be delivered to any address he indicated in Brussels or Liège.
After the Armistice, it took a great fight to make good my promise. Later on, it will be told how this was achieved. Theireventual militarisation was a just reward for the splendid services they rendered.
St Lambert, an engineer and executive in one of Belgium’s biggest engineering works, was an intelligent man. There were many questions he could have asked me; he could have embarrassed me by demanding guarantees or an official letter from the War Office. He was a practical man, however, whereas he had told me that the leaders of the group in Belgium were idealists. I think he realised the audacity of their demands, and having obtained a favourable reply from me, he was glad to let the matter drop. He wrote the letter I requested, gave me two contact addresses, and left for Havre to place his services at the disposal of the Belgian government. He kept the promises I exacted from him; he never mentioned the matter to a soul until after the war.
Our first message contained St Lambert’s letter, instructions as to the sort of information required, suggestions as regards organisation, and the sum of £500 for preliminary expenses. We instructed our courier to make his own arrangements with the letter box, or contact man, in regard to the days and the time he should pick up the reports.
We received a prompt reply, containing some military information and a promise of train-watching posts at Liège, Namur, and Brussels. We were also informed that the organisation would be called La Dame Blanche , after the legendary White Lady whose appearance would herald the downfall of the Hohenzollerns. The name was appropriate, for they certainly did their share in contributing to the defeat of the German Army, and ultimately to the abdication of the Kaiser.
The organisation developed rapidly. In a brief time, therewere close upon 200 agents enrolled in this organisation. At its head were two leaders: one Walthère Dewé a brilliant engineer, formerly in the employ of the Belgian government, and the other Herman Chauvin a college professor. There was no need to tell these men how to organise. They had lived in contact with the Germans for nearly three years, and knew the danger they were running. They realised the importance of organising their service on our basis of independent and isolated nests. They studied the methods and movements of the German Secret Police, and were able to outwit them at every turn.
With Belgium covered so efficiently by La Dame Blanche and our other organisations, it was not long before we were established in the occupied territory in France. For two years, none of the Allied
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