It was 3 a.m. on a cold morning in September 1980 and the sentry patrolling along the front of the Waterloo Block suddenly had the feeling that he was being watched. His colleagues were fifty yards or more away, walking their beats, everywhere was in darkness save for a glimmer of light through the arrow slits of the White Tower opposite, the brightest lights of all being those shining out through the large windows in the upper halves of the double doors of the Waterloo Block itself, lights which clearly illuminated the entrance hall beyond. Being a member of a Guards Regiment, he was not given to reacting to unusual circumstances in any other way than that of a highly trained sentry; those on duty in the Tower, whether soldiers or yeoman warders, the latter all being ex-Warrant Officers or Sergeant Majors, could hardly be classed as being susceptible to nerves, and their role was to observe and investigate anything out of the ordinary, especially at night.
Reaching the extremity of his beat at the end of the long building, the soldier turned about, his sixth sense still sending out warning signals. His eyes probing the shadows, he suddenly found himself looking at the Waterloo Block doors - to see through the glass windows a shape outlined by the strong lights behind, a silhouette of a man crouching and watching him! For a moment the soldier froze, his hands gripping his rifle; he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that those doors, indeed all the doors, both internal and external, were securely locked. A thief would hardly stand in a brightly lit hallway, yet how could a member of staff or even a tourist, have been inadvertently locked in? Before he could think up a rational explanation, the shape moved away, and at that the sentry acted in accordance with his instructions; using his radio he called out the guard, and also the Armouries warden responsible for night security. His sergeant and colleagues quickly arrived, together with the warden who unlocked the doors. Not surprisingly the sentry was more than reluctant to enter the building, but within minutes, the possibility of terrorism being an constant threat, the whole building was subjected to a minute and thorough search by the armed soldiers for any unauthorised person on the premises. All security devices were checked, all rooms searched, but nothing untoward was found. The sentry, questioned extensively by the Officer of the Guard, as was the routine, could not be diverted from his story and the incident was entered in the Report Book as inexplicable.
Equally inexplicable were the events which occurred on the upper floor of the Block, where flats occupied by yeoman warders, Jewel House members and their families were situated. Security being the top priority at all times, all the residents were required to lock outer doors behind them on entering or leaving the building at night, yet during 1979 and the following year, two yeoman warders described how, at different times in the night and sometimes as early as 7 a.m., loud knocking was heard at their ‘front’ doors, entrances which opened on to a long corridor. No matter how quickly they reached their front doors, no-one was ever there. That they were the activity of some practical joker was discounted, such childish practices not being indulged in by fellow warders, and anyway, there were only three or four families along that corridor so any miscreant could easily be identified. However, both yeoman warders reported that on several occasions, on opening their doors and looking along the corridor, the swing doors further along were seen to be swinging slightly, as if someone had just passed through them – yet on investigation all the doors beyond were found to be securely locked, as were those in the opposite direction. These incidents continued for some months and then, as mysteriously as they had started, the knocking suddenly ceased.
An even more baffling event occurred on 30 July 1980 involving another yeoman warder who occupied a flat on the second floor at the east end of the Waterloo Block. On leaving his apartment and closing the door, he suddenly heard a voice say “Oh - sorry!” and on turning, saw a man standing by the swing doors situated about six paces away. Next moment the man had moved away, passing through the aperture where one swing door had been propped open. It was mid-day, broad daylight in the corridor and members of staff not immediately recognised did pass through the building, so there was nothing unusual about the incident – why should there be? And then the warder thought again; where was the fellow going? Following the route the man had taken, he found what he had subconsciously expected – that every room leading off the spiral stairs at the end of the corridor, both up and down the stairway, were securely locked, mainy of them barred as well. When questioned, the description he gave was not of a ghostly, be-ruffed Tudor courtier or Cavalier dandy – but of a man who wore an ordinary looking suit and a wartime-type brown pointed trilby hat!
This incident gave rise to much speculation, following as it did, an occurrence two months or so earlier when, at 4.15 a.m. on the morning of 24 April 1980, two patrolling sentries saw what they described as ‘a tall dark figure’ at the east end of the Waterloo Block. They immediately gave chase, pursuing the figure down the stone steps leading to the Casemates, the area between the two encircling walls, but found no trace of an intruder. Another sentry had also heard suspicious noises at that time and so the guard was called out and a thorough search made of the area, but with no positive results.
To ascertain the possible significance of these occurrences, whether linked or not, we must go back to the seventeenth century. Prior to 1694, the year in which the Grand Storehouse was built there, most of that area was the cemetery of the Royal Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula which is situated immediately to the west. The Storehouse, an imposing three storied building, was a vast depository of weapons sufficient to arm 60,000 men, together with thousands of historic artifacts, banners, drums, arrays of bayonets and pistols; even the surviving instruments of torture were displayed there. But on Saturday 30 October 1841 a devastating fire broke out in a small tower immediately behind it, a conflagration which eventually enveloped the Storehouse itself despite all the efforts of the Tower’s fire brigade and those of the City. Thousands of Londoners lined the edge of the moat to watch the pall of smoke, the flames leaping high into the air, the collapsing roof and walls, and when dawn came there was little to see other than smouldering ruins.
The site was cleared completely and in preparing the foundations for a new building on the site, the remains of many bodies, including, it is believed, those of the alleged lovers of Queen Anne Boleyn, were found. As mentioned in another chapter, more remains were discovered in later years, all being re-interred in the Crypt.
The new building was the present Waterloo Block which, when completed in 1845, was called the Waterloo Barracks, its main use being to house the Tower’s garrison of soldiers; it also contains offices, store rooms and as previously mentioned, accommodation for members of staff. Currently of course the Jewel House is also situated therein.
The building being so comparatively recent, the spectral ‘crouching figure’ and the knocking on the doors – if indeed they were supernatural occurrences -could possibly be attributed to eternally wandering spirits of long-dead medieval corpses still mouldering beneath the foundations although they would have hardly appeared as the man wearing a war-time type pointed trilby! On the other hand, all the reported phenomena could conceivably have been caused by the latter apparition, and the vital clue in this connection is that there was a prisoner actually held in the Waterloo Block, as recently as the Second World War. He was a German spy, Josef Jakobs, who was confined in a room in the upper floor at the east end of the Block – the same floor and in close proximity to where the ‘man in the trilby’ was sighted!
Josef Jakobs was born 30 June 1898 and on enlisting in the German Army, rose to the rank of sergeant, attached to the Meteorological Branch. Selected as an espionage agent because of his knowledge of the English language, he was issued with the civilian clothing necessary to pass without suspicion in England, wireless transmitting equipment with which to communicate with his German base headquarters, and an identity card identifying him as James Rymer. He was given sufficient funds in English currency to enable him to pay for accommodation and purchase food and drink, and was also supplied with a bottle of brandy in the event of emergencies. For immediate sustenance on arrival, should that be necessary, he was given an item of food designed to evoke instant nostalgia – a traditional German sausage!
On the night of 31 January 1941, wearing a parachute, he boarded an aircraft which then took off and headed for southern England. Once over the estuary of the River Thames, the pilot navigated by following the course of the river as far as Gravesend and Greenhithe, then turned due north to drop his passenger over North Stifford, Essex. On descending, Jakobs, doubtless in trying to avoid dropping into the tree tops of a wood, made a heavy landing in a field nearby, breaking an ankle. Incapacitated, unable even to bury his parachute and flying kit with the small spade he carried, he was helpless to avoid capture by the Army personnel patrolling in the vicinity.
It being obvious from the equipment he carried that he was on a subversive mission, he was taken to Brixton Gaol where he received medical attention to his injured ankle. He was then interrogated by officers belonging to the counter-espionage branch and it soon became apparent that such was his loyalty and sense of patriotism, there was no question of him defecting and becoming a double agent. Seven months after his capture, on 4 August 1941, he faced a Court-Martial, and after hearing all the evidence, Jakobs was found guilty and sentenced to death.
He was taken to the Tower of London and, as stated above, was lodged in the Waterloo Block, guarded by soldiers of the Scots Guards. Early in the morning of 14 August 1941, he was escorted to the miniature rifle range which before its demolition stood only yards from the author’s apartment in the Tower. There, seated in a chair (because of his injured ankle) he was executed by an eight man firing squad under the command of Major P D Waters M.C., five bullets piercing the circle of lint positioned over his heart. His body was taken to the Tower mortuary, a room situated in the outer wall of the east moat, beneath the approach road to Tower Bridge, where a post mortem was carried out, after which it was conveyed to St Mary’s Roman Catholic Cemetery at Kensal Green and there, after the appropriate funeral service, interred in a common grave.
The chair on which the spy sat when executed – note missing rung torn away by bullets.
Was he – could he have been – the ‘man in a trilby’ seen by the yeoman warder? The fact that words were spoken did not necessarily preclude ‘him’ from being an apparition; phantoms are sometimes quite vocal; unmistakeable screams have on occasion been heard emanating late at night from the execution site on Tower Green, and ghostly moans have also been reported from other places over the years. Were the knocks on the doors his appeals for help in escaping his prison? Was he the ‘crouching man’ at the Waterloo Block door who, on seeing an ‘enemy’ soldier through the window, turned away and disappeared? Could he have been the ‘tall dark figure’ seen by the two sentries vanishing down the steps to the Casemates – the route which led to the site of the rifle range? And does his spirit frequent that area as well? In 1979 a poodle owned by a yeoman warder’s family living opposite, took to staring at the place where the range once stood, barking and growling as if witnessing something only it could see. Whether the apparition was that of Josef Jakob or not, may he, a brave and loyal soldier who died for his country, find eternal peace.
