The Gentleman Spy

The most famous espionage challenge faced by the fledgling United States was not posed by a scheming, knowledgeable practitioner of the dark arts or an experienced orchestrator of back-alley conspiracies, but by a polished, erudite Renaissance man fluent in languages and the arts, and skilled in thorough organization and planning. Known for his affability and manners, John Andre would pave his way into the history of espionage through an unlikely path that ultimately led to the gallows.

Major John André 

In late 1778, Major John André assumed the role of adjutant-general and head of British intelligence for Sir Henry Clinton, demonstrating remarkable poise. At twenty-eight, the elegant, multilingual officer—skilled in drawing, poetry, and cipher work—proved an ideal staff officer for the cautious commander-in-chief. André handled dispatches, recruited agents, interrogated prisoners, and oversaw maps of rebel positions from Clinton’s New York headquarters. His earlier service under General Grey had already demonstrated his eye for detail. Now he was Clinton’s indispensable eyes and ears across the sprawling theater of war. 

Until then, André’s most celebrated triumph came months earlier in Philadelphia—a spectacular social event. As master of ceremonies at the extravagant Meschianza in May 1778, honoring departing General Howe, he orchestrated medieval-style jousts, fireworks, and balls. 

Among the Loyalist ladies he escorted was young Peggy Shippen, daughter of a judge. André sketched her portrait with delicate pencil strokes, exchanged witty letters, and danced through candlelit evenings. The flirtation carried genuine warmth—historians describe it as light but affectionate courtly attention rather than a grand romance. When the British evacuated Philadelphia in June 1778, the connection ended. Peggy stayed behind and, in April 1779, married the widowed American hero Benedict Arnold, then the city’s military governor. A dark chain of events would soon link her former love and her husband.

Peggy Shippen

Back in New York, André immersed himself in intelligence duties. Frustrated by the stalemate in the North, British Secretary of State for the Colonies Lord George Germain directed British commander in chief General Sir Henry Clinton to turn southward.

In December 1779, Clinton sailed from New York with a large fleet and army, with André serving as adjutant-general. The expedition reached the Carolina coast in January 1780. After careful preparations amid barrier islands and swamps, the British began the formal siege of Charleston in March. André participated in staff operations supporting the methodical advance down the neck of land leading to the harbor. 

The American commander, General Benjamin Lincoln, surrendered the city on May 12, 1780—the war’s greatest British victory, in which roughly 5,000 Continental and militia troops were captured. Clinton and his immediate staff, including André, returned to New York by early June, leaving Lord Cornwallis to press the southern campaign. 

Fall of Charleston

Resuming his intelligence duties in New York, André oversaw the growing secret correspondence with Benedict Arnold. Disaffected by congressional slights and personal grievances, Arnold—through channels linked to his wife, Peggy—offered to betray the vital Hudson fortress of West Point. André personally managed the negotiations throughout the summer of 1780. In a final literary flourish before the climax, he composed the satirical poem “The Cow-Chase,” mocking American General Anthony Wayne’s raid on a Loyalist outpost. Tragically, its third canto appeared in the New York Loyalist newspaper, Rivington’s Royal Gazette, on the day André set out on his fateful mission.

West Point 1780

On 21 September 1780, André boarded the British sloop HMS Vulture and met Arnold near Haverstraw in the cover of darkness. He received detailed maps and plans of West Point’s defenses, which he concealed in his boot. Things seemed to be going well for André’s first clandestine mission. But around dawn, American artillery batteries forced Vulture downstream to avoid plunging fire. Unable to return by water, André changed into civilian clothes and attempted to take the overland route through contested territory, carrying a safe-conduct pass signed by Arnold under the alias John Anderson.

HMS Vulture

Near Tarrytown on 23 September, three Westchester militiamen—John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Van Wart—stopped him. Suspicious of his manner and story, they searched him thoroughly and found incriminating papers.  The conspiracy collapsed instantly. Arnold, alerted in time, escaped downriver to the Vulture and defected, later receiving a British brigadier’s commission and payment. However, West Point remained firmly in American hands. 

Capture of a Spy

The hapless André was escorted to American headquarters in Tappan, New York. A swift court-martial convened. Although he argued that he had initially met Arnold under a flag of truce and in uniform, the board correctly ruled him a spy—traveling behind American lines in disguise to gather military intelligence. Ever the gentleman, André bore the proceedings with dignity. 

Court martial at Tappan

On 1 October, he wrote General Clinton a composed letter, thanking him for past confidence and expressing regret only for the circumstances. He requested execution by firing squad, befitting a soldier. In an unusual lack of compassion combined with anger over Arnold’s betrayal, Washington declined, citing the nature of the offense. 

General Henry Clinton

On the morning of 2 October 1780, the gentleman spy Major John André mounted the gallows with unflinching composure. He adjusted the noose himself and remarked that, though reconciled to death, he detested the method. A single drum roll sounded. The trapdoor dropped.

Execution

Back in New York City, Clinton was devastated, lamenting the loss of “a very valuable assistant… an honour to his country.”

 Even among his captors, André earned admiration for his courage and demeanor; American officers described him as a gallant enemy. Major Benjamin Tallmadge, General Washington’s chief of intelligence, met with André during his trial and execution. 

He penned these remarks in his memoir: 

“I became so deeply attached to Major André that I can remember no instance where my affections were so fully absorbed in any man.” And describing the moment of execution: “I walked with him to the place of execution, and parted with him under the gallows, entirely overwhelmed with Grief, that so gallant an officer, & so accomplished a Gentleman should come to such an ignominious End.” 

Benjamin Tallmadge

In his brief yet intense service, André had blended intelligence, craftsmanship, and social grace with literary wit. From the Meschianza festivities and the Charleston siege lines to the shadowy negotiations that culminated at the gallows, he embodied the era’s blend of honor, ambition, and tragedy. 

The artful Andre's sefl portrait

The Gentleman Spy’s execution reverberated across the Atlantic, turning the young major into a romantic symbol of duty betrayed. The rebellion endured, but the memory of John André lingered as a poignant footnote to a war fought as much with secrets as with muskets.

A Peer in Paris

The Peer's Challenge

As Paris buzzed with intrigue during the American Revolution, Lord David Murray, the seventh Viscount Stormont, the British ambassador to Louis XVI's court and chief of intelligence, was at the center of this complex web of intrigue. Appointed in 1772, Stormont was a Scottish peer related to Lord Mansfield, the chief justice who had ruled against colonial protests during the Stamp Act crisis of 1765. His diplomatic cover cloaked espionage aimed at blocking French support for the rebelling colonies.

Lord Stormont

Covert Aid

The 1776 Declaration of Independence upped the stakes. George Washington's Continental Army faced severe shortages of weapons, powder, and funds. Franklin's arrival in Paris in December was a game-changer: the Philadelphian captivated French intellectuals and aristocrats alike. He lobbied Foreign Minister Charles Gravier, the Comte de Vergennes, for more covert aid. Vergennes, estimating the strategic blow to Britain, authorized secret shipments through intermediaries, such as the front company Rodrigue, Hortelez & Cie.

Comte de Vergennes

Unleashing a Master Spy

From his Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré estate, Stormont took this as a dire threat. His network, funded by Whitehall subsidies and coordinated with Loyalist exiles, became Britain’s eyes and ears in a city full of conspiracy. At the core of Stormont's operation was Dr. Edward Bancroft, a Massachusetts-born physician and chemist whose scientific credentials masked his duplicity. Recruited in March 1776 by British secret service agent Paul Wentworth, a wealthy Loyalist tobacco merchant acting as Stormont's intermediary, Bancroft had infiltrated the American mission.

Edward Bancroft

Placement and Access

Serving as Silas Deane's secretary—the Connecticut merchant tasked with buying munitions—Bancroft gained access to Franklin's villa in Passy, a hub of covert diplomacy. From there, he documented every detail: Vergennes' promises of gunpowder, arms shipments disguised as commercial cargo; the negotiations over loans to fund the American cause. Bancroft’s use of spycraft was brilliant. He used stain (invisible ink), hidden papers, and pseudonyms.

Silas Deane

Sophisticated Spycraft

He made weekly visits to a “dead drop" in a crevice at the base of a tree on the south terrace of the Jardin des Tuileries. Stormont dispatched his private secretary, Thomas Jeans, who retrieved these drops under the cover of darkness. Stormont’s instructions and new requests for intelligence were also left by Jeans, often accompanied by payments of up to £500 annually.

Jardin des Tuileries 

Exquisite Intelligence

By April 1777, as negotiations between France and America intensified, Bancroft's leaks included verbatim transcripts of commissioners' minutes and drafts of the 1778 Treaty of Alliance. One dispatch, smuggling the final version of the treaty, reached King George III within 48 hours of its signing in Paris, allowing Britain to prepare naval responses.

King George III

Démarcheing the Bourbons

Stormont used this intelligence in heated meetings with Vergennes, citing specifics to accuse France of violating the 1776 Treaty of Commerce and demanding inspections—his démarches spawned hesitation and bought Britain months of breathing space. 

Signing the Treaty

An Army of Agents

His influence reached the Atlantic ports of Lorient, Brest, and Nantes, which were crucial points for American supplies. Here, a network of embedded agents—dockyard foremen, corrupt customs officials (douaniers), and bribed ship chandlers—monitored rebel privateers such as the USS Reprisal, commanded by the daring American Captain Lambert Wickes.

USS Reprisal

Stormont’s informants tracked illegal exchanges: American tobacco and indigo were traded for Charleville muskets and gunpowder, which was routed through Roderigue Hortalez et Cie.

Actionable Intelligence

In July 1777, Lambert Wickes' squadron escorted a Dutch convoy loaded with arms past Ushant. Stormont's informers provided intelligence that led the Royal Navy to intercept the convoy, seizing prizes worth £100,000. As the British ambassador, he issued a strong démarche to Versailles. This pressured Vergennes to issue mild protests against "illegal" sailing.  Although enforcement was pro forma, Stromont’s protests delayed France’s full naval involvement until 1778.

Illegal Sailing

French Mole

Meanwhile, spymaster Stormont developed a mole within the Foreign Ministry's Archives Section—a junior archivist, possibly bribed with 500 louis d'or—who stole dispatches from locked cabinets.

Lord North

Breaking into the Quai d'Orsay's bureaucracy was a master stroke against the French.  These stolen dispatches revealed Franco-American subsidies, as well as overtures to Spain's Charles III for a Mediterranean diversion against Gibraltar. Stormont forwarded copies to London via secure couriers, helping Prime Minister Lord North lobby neutral European nations, such as the Dutch, against Bourbon plans.

Unplugging the Electrician

But no target infuriated Stormont more than Franklin, the "electrician of sedition,” whose charm threatened French neutrality. Intercepts exposed Franklin's secret letters to William Petty, the second Earl of Shelburne, a Whig opposition leader who called the war "madness" in Parliament and secretly provided £10,000 to American agents such as Arthur Lee.

Benjamin Franklin

In a slick psychological operation, Stormont leaked "correspondence" accusing Franklin of treasonous dealings—leaking rebel plans to Lord Shelburne for personal gain. These accusations were circulated in London newspapers and Paris coffeehouses, sparking a scandal. 

Lord Shelburne

Angered at the false reports, Shelburne fought a duel with his purported accuser, Colonel William Fullarton, in Hyde Park, but both survived unscathed. This episode damaged trust within the American delegation, with Deane suspecting Lee of leaks and making French courtiers wary of deeper involvement. It also provided the predicate for my fifth novel in the Yankee Doodle Spies series, The Reluctant Spy.

Success and Failure

Lord Stormont’s web of espionage delayed French arms shipments, kept London apprised of secret negotiations, and sowed discord among both French and American diplomats. However, Stormont's efforts in Paris could not stop the momentum of support for America by France, Spain, and the Netherlands.

Admiral d'Estaing

After the treaty of alliance was signed in 1778, French fleets under Admiral d'Estaing sailed for Savannah, shifting the war. Stormont, whose protests were ignored, was recalled that June — bringing a great sigh of relief to Vegennes and Franklin. Although his network dissolved, its efforts had sustained the British struggle for two more years—a testament to the power of espionage in the forging of revolution.

The Peer's Postscript

In a final note, Edward Bancroft's treason to America was not revealed in 1889 — from Stormont's secret papers—highlighting how Britain’s intelligence secrets were sustained over many decades.

 

 

Lord in the Shadows

In the waning years of the 18th century, as the fires of rebellion blazed across the Atlantic, William Eden, 1st Baron Auckland, stood at the apex of Britain’s clandestine war. From his unassuming office in London, hidden behind the façade of bureaucratic mundanity, Eden orchestrated a web of espionage that stretched from the drawing rooms of Westminster to the muddy battlefields of the American colonies. He was not a man of the sword, but of the quill and the whisper, a master of secrets whose name was known only to a select few, yet whose influence shaped the course of empires.

Privileged Youth

Born in 1744, the son of a Durham baronet, William Eden’s early life was one of privilege and education. He became a legal scholar at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford. In 1771, he published Principles of Penal Law and became a recognized authority on commercial and economic questions. Yet his keen mind for strategy drew him into the shadowy world of intelligence. By the time the American colonies began their murmurs of discontent, Eden had already proven his worth in diplomatic circles, but it was his appointment as the head of the British Secret Service in 1776 that would define his legacy.

Eton College

Spy Master

The American War for Independence was not just a war of battles and maneuvers but also an intelligence war. Eden understood this better than most. While Secretary of State for the Colonies Lord George Germain plotted grand strategy and generals like Sir William Howe and Lord Charles Cornwallis planned campaigns, Eden waged a silent war, fought with coded letters, double agents, and quiet betrayals. His office, tucked away in a nondescript building near St. James’s, was a nerve center of espionage. Maps of the colonies, intercepted dispatches, and lists of suspected rebel sympathizers and agents lay stacked on his desk. Each provided a clue in the vast canvas of rebellion he sought to undo. To accomplish this, the intelligence budget soared to some £200,000 during this period! That’s about £40,706,380 in 2025 money, adjusted for inflation.

George Germain

Reading “Traffic”

Eden began his mornings reviewing reports from his network of spies, many of whom operated under the cover of merchants, clergymen, or even Loyalist sympathizers in the colonies. Spies embedded deep within the Continental Army could feed details of troop movements and supply shortages that would make their way to London. Spies in the rebel capital worked in the social circles of Philadelphia and developed political information through elicitation and observation. Eden read dispatches with a meticulous eye, his quill scratching notes in the margins, decoding the hidden meanings behind their carefully chosen words.

 

Reading Traffic

The Cocktail Party Circuit

Eden’s evenings were spent in the company of the powerful, attending dinners and balls where the fate of the empire was often decided over port and cigars. He was a master of subtlety, his conversations laced with double meanings, his questions probing yet innocuous. At one such gathering, hosted by Lord North, Eden overheard a whispered conversation between two French diplomats, hinting at their plans to escalate support for the rebels. The next day, a coded message was dispatched to a British agent in Paris, tasked with uncovering the details of the French plot.

Diplomats Sharing Confidences

Politico & Envoy

In 1778, Eden, as a Member of Parliament, introduced an Act to improve the treatment of prisoners of war, which caused some controversy as American captives were often regarded as traitors, not war prisoners. He also organized, arranged, and accompanied the Earl of Carlisle as a commissioner to North America in a failed attempt to end the American War of Independence through negotiation. On his return in 1779, he published his widely read Four Letters to the Earl of Carlisle.  This work discussed the ongoing war with the American colonies, France, and Spain, advocating for continued military efforts to crush colonial resistance. Eden also examines public debts, credit, and supply-raising methods, alongside Ireland’s push for free trade, reflecting on economic and imperial policies.

The Earl of Carlisle

A Spy’s Home Life

Yet, for all his successes, Eden was not immune to the weight of his responsibilities. The war was a personal and political struggle, and the constant stream of betrayals, failures, and losses took their toll. He wed Eleanor Elliot, of the influential Elliot family.  She and their six sons and eight daughters provided some solace, but even in the quiet moments at home, his mind was never far from the war. Eden would sit by the fire, a glass of Madeira in hand, his eyes fixed on the flames as he pondered the next move in the deadly game of chess he played with the rebels.

Eden's First Daughter, Eleanor Agnes

The Great Game

But Eden’s most significant challenge was collecting intelligence in the one place the war would be won or lost—Paris. The British orchestrated intelligence operations against the American commissioners, the French government, and the Spanish and Dutch representatives. While British diplomats and agents were also active in all the major European capitals, Paris was the political center of gravity in the game being played out. Spies were recruited and “run” against all parties, with the American Commission in Passy and Benjamin Franklin himself a target. His agents spread disinformation to undermine French confidence in the American cause or delay their military commitments, though with limited success given France’s strategic commitment.

Benjamin Franklin

Eden tracked negotiations between French Foreign Minister Charles Gravier, Comte de Vergennes, and American representatives like Benjamin Franklin. The goal was to influence the French and Spanish from officially joining the Americans in war with Britain. But in 1778, France threw her hat into the ring and signed a formal treaty of Amity and Alliance with the United States. Britain did manage to slow Spain’s entry into the conflict, but eventually that too would fail.

Spies Among Us

One of the darkest moments of Eden’s tenure came in 1781, as the war neared its climax. The British surrender at Yorktown was a blow to the army and Eden’s carefully constructed network. Many of his agents were exposed or captured, their identities betrayed by a mole within the Secret Service itself. Eden’s investigation into the breach was ruthless; his interrogations were conducted in the cold, stone-walled chambers beneath his office. The traitor, a junior clerk with gambling debts and a taste for French gold, was quietly dealt with, his fate sealed in a manner that left no trace.

Surrender at Yorktown

Managing Defeat

Once defeat was inevitable, the British went to work managing it. Eden’s role shifted from espionage to diplomacy. In 1783, he was appointed as one of the negotiators of the Treaty of Paris, tasked with salvaging what he could from the wreckage of Britain’s colonial ambitions. He approached the negotiations with the same cold pragmatism that had defined his intelligence work, securing favorable terms for Britain despite losing the colonies. For Eden, it was not a defeat but a strategic retreat, a chance to preserve the empire’s strength for future battles along the lines outlined in his Letters to the Earl of Carlisle.

Treaty of Paris Negotiations

Spy Turned Statesman

In the following years, Eden continued his excellent service as a member of Parliament, a diplomat, and Governor-General of Ireland. In 1789, William Eden was raised to the Peerage of Ireland as Baron Auckland. In 1793, he retired from public service but was further honored when he was raised to the Peerage of Great Britain as Baron Auckland, of West Auckland in the County of Durham. But his time as the head of the Secret Service remained his defining chapter—and few knew of it. Eden was the silent architect of Britain’s covert resistance, the man who had fought not with a sword but with secrets, wielding information like a blade in the dark.  

William Eden, 1st Baron Auckland

William Eden died on 28 May 1814 at 69 in Beckenham, Kent. The 1^st Baron Auckland remains the shadow warlord who had guarded Britain through its darkest hour. Despite his public honors, the real hallmark of his life was duty and sacrifice as the silent watcher who had stood between order and chaos, waging unseen battles that shaped the course of history.

 

Tradesman Spy

Patriotic Sons of the American Revolution

 marker near Trenton, New Jersey

Fort Lee, New Jersey, November 1776. The tall soldier in a blue jacket opened the door. "Your visitor is here, Your Excellency."

General George Washington wiped the dark liquid from his pen tip and nodded. A nondescript man in farmer's clothes stepped in. Washington motioned toward a seat. "Thank you for coming, sir. I hope the journey did not discommode you."

"Not at all, sir. When we last met I gave you my word that I was at your service."

"Your nation thanks you for it. Our situation is bleak. The British regulars will be here within forty-eight hours. But the Army is too weak to make another stand."

"What will you do, Your Excellency?"

"Better you not know. Suffice it to say this state will be under British occupation for some time. That's where you come in."

"Me?"

Washington nodded. "I must trouble you to proceed to Trenton and its environs. Establish yourself there as a Loyal Tory. You are a hero of the last war—service under the great General Wolfe."

"He was a great man. As are you, Your Excellency. Now, what are your orders?"

"I need a spy in their midst."

The Spy?

Washington's visitor was one of the most mysterious figures of the Yankee Doodle Spies era. An Irishman born in Scotland, John Honeyman became a vital agent when the American cause was at its lowest point. His chameleon-like ability to hide in plain sight may have inspired the protagonist Harvey Birch in James Fenimore Cooper's important work, The Spy, although most associate that role with New Yorker Enoch Crosby.

James Fenimore Cooper

Historians disagree over Honeyman's role, as his narrative was written a century later by a grandson. However, this is common among secret soldiers whose actions remained undocumented due to secrecy and security concerns. Retired CIA Case Officer and Revolutionary War Historian Kenneth Daigler argued that Honeyman was one of Washington's operatives. 

Honeyman came from County Armagh, born to frugal Scottish parents. Though his father was a struggling farmer with little access to education, Honeyman learned to read and write. He had a talent for trades like weaving. But at age twenty-nine, Honeyman chose a new path by joining the British Army and sailing to America to fight the French and Indians.

Honorable Service

At sea, he caught the attention of General Wolfe and became his servant and bodyguard. He participated in the action at Louisbourg, but his military career ended tragically. Private Honeyman was beside Wolfe when the bold general was struck down in his moment of triumph on the Plains of Abraham outside Quebec.

Death of Wolfe at Quebec

With his officer gone, Honeyman mustered a sort of hero with a letter vouching for his service with and for Wolfe, who became a beloved figure among all Britons, especially those in America.

Tradesman and Family Man

Honeyman traveled to Pennsylvania, where he established himself as a butcher and weaver, and married a girl from Ireland named Mary Henry in September 1764. Around the time of the Shot Heard Round the World, Honeyman had moved to Philadelphia, the hub of the Continental Congress and a center of political debate and schemes. During that period, he may have caught the attention of George Washington. Some accounts say he offered the soon-to-be commander-in-chief his services.

A Spy Among Them

Honeyman left Fort Lee and arrived in Trenton. He had little trouble blending in with the local Tories—his letter from the late Wolfe and his discharge made him a respected Briton and servant of the King. He established his butcher and weaving businesses with the British and soon gained their attention as a Loyal Briton. His home was behind rebel lines at Griggstown, and John Honeyman, a Tory openly supporting Washington's plan, traveled back and forth trading while gathering intelligence. Sometimes, plans can succeed too well. With tensions running high that year in the Jerseys, a patriot mob attacked his home. His family escaped unharmed, though it took a note from Washington to ensure the Tory family’s safe passage to Trenton, now garrisoned by Colonel Johann Rall's brigade of Hessians.

Violence was not confined to the battlefield

Great Scheme Hits Paydirt

Using Trenton as his base for business and espionage, Honeyman was able to gather intelligence on the garrison's strength, morale, defenses, and other activities. A plan was devised to give him cover—Honeyman let himself get captured by a rebel patrol assigned to take him to Washington's headquarters.

Washington meeting a spy

The commander in chief personally "interrogated" the "prisoner." Afterward, he ordered the notorious Tory to be thrown into a jail cell. Washington arranged a diversionary fire that allowed the Tory to escape. The skilled line crosser made his way past guards and sentries from both sides and reached the safety of Trenton. There, the loyal Tory dutifully reported his capture and escape. Under Johann Rall's questioning, he was able to plant a significant piece of disinformation—the rebels were so low in morale and equipment that the Hessian commander did not need to fear an attack.

Johann Rall

Deception Brings Defeat

Although the Hessians had been on high alert for the past two weeks, Rall believed Honeyman's story and felt confident enough to relax security on the nights of December 25-26. The deception gave Washington just enough of an advantage—his army crossed the Delaware River and marched through the snowy night to surprise the garrison, which soon surrendered. His victory rescued the cause from certain defeat and may have turned the tide of the war.

Attack on Trenton

The Spy Who Stayed Out in the Cold

With fighting raging around Trenton, Honeyman headed north to New Brunswick, the logistics hub for British forces in New Jersey. There, Honeyman maintained the cover of being a Loyalist tradesman to avoid British retaliation for his espionage. Whether he continued to play an espionage role for Washington remains unknown. He did not return to his Griggstown home until the war ended.

Honeyman led a quiet post-war life on a small farm near Bedminster, New Jersey. None of his neighbors or friends suspected his connection to Washington, let alone his role in espionage. Honeyman remarried after Mary died in 1801. He died peacefully on August 18, 1822, at the age of 93. The spy and tradesman was buried in the Lamington Presbyterian Church Cemetery in Lamington, New Jersey.

Honeyman's gravesite

 

 

 

The Once and Future Spy

Hogan’s Heroes

Fans of TV Land probably remember the hit comedy from the 1960s, Hogan’s Heroes. The story centered on a team of spies who were shot down over Nazi Germany to set up a spy network operating from a prison camp (Luft Stalag 13) deep inside Germany. From there, Colonel Hogan and his diverse group kept radio contact with “London” while planning various activities, from espionage to sabotage. Much of the show revolved around jokes at the expense of their clumsy captors, Colonel Klink and Sergeant Schultz, but they often sneaked out of the prison camp to nearby Hammelberg for secret missions. Yet, unlike other POWs—they would slip back in.

POWs as Spies - but for laughs

Winter War

Something like this happened during the height of the American War for Independence when General Washington needed intelligence after his victory at Trenton. Word had arrived that General Charles Cornwallis was leading an army south to seek revenge for the embarrassment. Washington ordered that someone be sent to Brunswick to evaluate the size of the British forces, especially the troops guarding the recently captured General Charles Lee. The status of British supply trains was also of interest because Washington considered marching north to seize their baggage and supplies for his under-supplied army.

Trenton

Daring Mission

Lieutenant Lewis Costigan of the 1st New Jersey Continental Line Regiment volunteered for the task. He was well-suited for the mission since he had been a merchant in the area and knew it well. Costigan’s mission is similar to Lieutenant Jeremiah Creed’s spying in my novel, The Cavalier Spy. He traveled north over icy roads during a bitterly cold winter that chilled the soul. He evaded British patrols, sentries, and Loyalist informers, successfully avoiding detection. Costigan gathered the intelligence Washington needed until British light dragoons swept in and captured him. The brave officer was in uniform, so his captors did not treat him as a spy.

British Light Dragoon

Prisoner on Parole

The British sent their new prisoner to New York City, where he was soon granted parole—a common practice that allowed officers to move freely. Less fortunate prisoners, usually enlisted men, were sent to the Sugar House or, worse, to prison hulks (ships) to wither away and die. However, officers, who had pledged certain restrictions as gentlemen, fared better. Paroled officers were not allowed to engage in military activities, communicate with colleagues, or criticize the British war effort. They agreed to report back to the British if instructed. Costigan led a dull life as a parolee, idling in the garrison city, visiting taverns, and mingling with locals. He was formally released in September 1778 as part of an exchange for a British officer.

Prison Hulk HMS Jersey

Learning about this, Washington wrote to his Commissary General for Prisoners, Colonel John Beatty, who was responsible for handling prisoner affairs, including exchanges. Washington urged him to free Gostigan quickly but to avoid appearing too eager to the British. His Excellency had plans for his past and future spy. General William Alexander, who called himself Lord Stirling, was to pressure Costigan to re-enter the fray once more. 

Costigan took a boat to New Brunswick, where he received a new mission from one of Stirling’s subordinates, Colonel Ogden, who urged the exchanged parolee to return to New York for a few more months and spy for the Continental Army! Washington must have been desperate for intelligence at the time, as the mission was highly unorthodox and fraught with significant risk. For his part, Costigan must have had a lot of guts and nerves of steel to agree.

Lord Stirling

Agent Z

What disguise would Costigan use to slip past the British and sneak around a garrison filled with enemy troops, Loyalists, and the rogue Provost William Cunningham’s thugs? Actually, none. His handlers were betting that the British prison bureaucracy wouldn't realize he had come back, nor would they alert the garrison regiments, Loyalist units, and Cunningham’s provosts when they exchanged prisoners. Stirling and Ogden were counting on the communication channels not connecting, and they were risking Costigan’s life. Costigan was given the code name Agent Z for this unusual mission.

 

Agent Z would walk among the NY garrison that winter

Prisoner Spy

Costigan made his way back and adopted the disguise of hiding in plain sight—living as the prisoner on parole he had been. Since he was legally exchanged, his previous parole restrictions no longer applied. Interestingly, no one seemed to pay much attention to Costigan as he wandered the city, observing troop movements, living conditions, supply issues, and more. Word of his exchange clearly hadn't spread among the dockside dives or the city’s many taverns and coffee houses. To everyone, he was just another parolee out in the town. Using his code name, Agent Z, the volunteer prisoner sent his intelligence reports to Washington through Colonel Ogden and Lord Stirling.

Agent Z had the run of the City

Intelligence

Agent Z successfully sent out three reports before leaving New York. The first was dated December 7, 1778. It included intelligence on troop and ship movements, the location of the British commander, General Sir Henry Clinton, the supply situation (low on bread), the names of captured prize vessels, and the origins of British provisions from sympathizers and profiteers in New Jersey. His correspondence mentioned several other reports concerning troop strength, but it remains unclear whether these ever made it through.

Sir Henry Clinton

A second report to Washington, dated December 13, 1778, provided more details on British activity that amounted to "indications and warning” of British forces sailing south for Georgia. Lord Sackville (George Germain), the British Secretary for the Colonies, had implemented his Southern Strategy, which would start with the capture of Savannah on December 29. He mentioned the notorious former Royal Governor William Tryon and reported on the movements and promotions of other senior officers. 

Agent Z provided I&W on Germain's 

Southern Strategy

Costigan’s final report from December 19 outlined British officers who had deserted in Florida, as well as the status and size of “the Jamaica fleet,” which he estimated to be about 40 or 50 vessels. 

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

Agent Z clearly had a talent for observation and elicitation. There is no record of how he sent out his reports. Did he co-opt legal travelers? Send correspondence under a false name? Whatever method he used must have encountered a problem, because he left New York in mid-January 1779, presumably posing as an exchanged parolee. In March of 1779, General Washington inquired of Lord Stirling about his reporting (or lack thereof). Stirling replied tersely that Agent Z was no longer active and believed to be “out” (presumably of the city and the intel game) and thought to be residing in Brunswick.

Lieutenant Lewis Costigan - Agent Z

Lieutenant Lewis Costigan’s activities demonstrate how Washington used multiple channels of intelligence, as he was not connected to the Culper Ring organized by Major Benjamin Tallmadge but reported through Colonel Ogden to Lord Stirling. His exploits provide a unique glimpse into espionage during the American Revolution. As Agent Z, he took on the role originally meant for the unfortunate Nathan Hale, although his clever use of a “non-cover” added an elegant twist. Hiding in plain sight seems to have been all the tradecraft he needed.