Karl Lody

Karl Hans Lody was a German spy operating in Britain during the early years of the First World War. He was the first spy to be executed in Britain during the war. Lody was born in 1877 and was executed on 6 November 1914.[1]

Lody, a German national, was educated in Germany. He completed a year’s service in the Germany Navy from 1900-01. Following this he joined the First Naval Reserve and then entered the merchant service. The merchant service allowed Lody to travel extensively. He was employed on English, Norwegian, and American ships.

In 1912 Lody married an American woman of German descent. He ultimately hoped to settle permanently in the United  States of America.  He would have done this had his marriage not fallen apart.  Due to his marriage Lody applied for transfer from the First Naval reserve, as it was his intent to leave Germany.[2]

Lody becomes a spy

Lody had been working as a tour operator. As such he had acquired numerous friends in the United States. Lody wanted to go to New York. When he was in Berlin in July 1914 he reported to the general office of the Naval Department to be released from the Naval Reserve.

Lody attended three or four interviews in August 1914 in which he was persuaded to go to England to gather information on the actual losses of the British fleet. In return he could then continue to New York following the first naval encounter between the British and German fleets. Lody accepted on the basis that, ‘I had never been a coward in my life and I certainly would not be a shirker.’[3]

Lody arrived in Britain posing as a travel guide named Charles A. Inglis—the name on the stolen American passport he was using. Initially Lody surveyed Royal Navy outposts in Britain, reporting on them to Berlin.

After the outbreak of the First World War, the German U.S. naval attaché, Karl Boy-Ed, believed Lody would make the ideal agent in Britain. Lody then began detailing Britain’s air defences. He also provided notes on the Rosyth naval base.[4] However, the majority of Lody’s espionage attempts were ‘amateurish and inaccurate.’[5]

Lody was eventually arrested in Killarney, Ireland. As he was in possession of incriminating documents at the time of his arrest, his conviction was a ‘virtual formality.’[6] The General court-martial took place at the Middlesex Guildhall in Westminster between 30 October and 2 November 1914.[7]

Lody was convicted of espionage. Although he pleaded not guilty to the two counts of the Defence of the Realm Act by which he was tried, he believed his trial to have been fairly handled.

Although many of Lody’s espionage attempts had been inaccurate, he was later found responsible for providing information which led to the sinking of a British naval cruiser.[8]

Arrest and execution

Lody was apprehended as a result of two letters that he had sent. One to Adolf Burchard in Stockholm and the other to Herr J. Stammer in Berlin, were intercepted. At this point all mail between Norway and Sweden was examined by postal censors, a fact which Lody was unaware of. Postal censorship during the war played an important role in the capturing of possible spies.

The notebook found on Lody’s person when he was arrested contained the basis of the two intercepted telegrams.  Lody’s notebook also contained information regarding the types and calibres of the port guns at Queensferry.

During his trial Lody maintained that he was an unwilling operative, simply carrying out orders, stating his mission would ‘hopefully save my country, but probably not save me.’[9]

Although Lody may have been a poor spy, he was apparently a brave man. On the morning of his execution he addressed the Assistant Provost-Marshall who released him from his cell: ‘I suppose that you will not care to shake hands with a German spy?’ The Assistant Provost-Marshall had been impressed with Lody’s demeanour throughout his imprisonment. He declared: ‘No. But I will shake hands with a brave man.’ 

Lody has the distinction of not only being the first German spy to be executed in Britain during the war, but also of being the first person executed at the Tower of London in 150 years.[10]

Another account of Lody’s bravery also exists. John Fraser, a Yeoman Warder of the Tower at the time, wrote an account of Lody’s execution. Speaking of the procession to the rifle range Fraser writes, ‘it is not too much to say that, of that sad little procession, the calmest and most composed member was the condemned man himself.’ Adding that he ‘walked steadily, stiffly upright…as though he was going to a tea-party, instead of to his death.’ Fraser then describes what he calls a little ‘incident’:

'As they came to the end of the path, the Chaplain, in his nervousness, made to turn left, which was the wrong way. Instantly Lody took a quick step forward, caught the Chaplain by the right arm, and with a polite and kindly smile, gently guided him to the right – the correct way.'

It is clear that Lody’s bravery impressed all who he met. Fraser ultimately remarks that whenever he thinks of Lody, a simple phrase is what first comes to mind: ‘A gentlemen, unafraid!’[11]

Karl Lody, like most of the German spies executed at the Tower, was shot in the miniature rifle range which used to stand there. Lody was buried in East London Cemetery in Plaistow, London.[12] 

Years later, German officials wished to visit his grave and it became apparent that he had been buried in an unmarked mass grave. A secret debate then ensued. It was decided that the British should first determine how spies were treated by the Germans, before they allowed the Germans to know about Lody.

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