This post follows up on my earlier overview of the spies sent by Germany to Ireland during the Second World War
Henry Obed is one of the unlikeliest spies of the Second World War. Born to an Indian Muslim family in 1895, Henry was a restless and ambitious young man. He found his way to Hamburg, where he set up a shop catering to Indian merchant seamen. The story of how he ended up in an Irish prison for a failed Nazi sabotage mission is a fascinating one. As with many of the Abwehr’s recruits, Obed was driven more by survival than by ideology.
One of the readers of the earlier blog post asked if I knew what had become of Obed after the war—I did not. Another reader shared a rumour that Henry’s wife had murdered him in a fit of jealousy in the early 1950s. That got my attention, and I started digging, coming across a 2022 doctoral thesis which included a significant section on Obed. I highly recommend that interested readers take a look at Svenja von Jan’s work, as it provides a fascinating contextual story to understand Henry and the circumstances that saw him landing on the Irish coast as a spy. She has done an excellent job of pulling together archival sources from Europe, Ireland and the United Kingdom.
Early Life in Lucknow
Henry was born 15 April 1895 in Lucknow, in the far north of India to a Muslim family. His birth name was not “Henry Obed” but rather Abid Hussein, although he sometimes went by Muhammed Hussain or Mujtaba Hussein. His shape-shifting names are, in many ways, a window into Henry’s soul. He was adept at blending into his surroundings.
We don’t know a lot about his early life, but in later years, he professed an early love affair with books, reading many travelogues and adventure stories. He apparently did not complete his matriculation but in 1915, left for Calcutta, where he worked as a proofreader at a Persian language newspaper. Obed’s spirit of adventure, nurtured by his childhood reading material, soon came to fruition.
A Lascar’s Ascent
In his late teens, Henry found a job as a saloon boy on a steamship vessel bound for New York. With many regular sailors diverted to the war effort, the demand for seamen, even inexperienced ones like Henry, was high. In 1919, the SS Sag Harbor arrived in New York from Cuba and the name “Henry Obed” appeared on a crew list for the first time. He had already moved up from saloon boy to steward, serving meals and housekeeping. This was a position not commonly held by South Asians.
Most Indian nationals were hired as lascars under special contracts. They often worked in the engine room, a dirty, gruelling job, where they received fewer rations, poorer quality accommodation and earned less than a third of what European sailors received. Racism was alive and well in the early part of the 20th century.
Henry’s rise to steward is likely explained by information on the crew manifest which notes that his nationality was British and his race was Maltese. Claiming to be from Malta, rather than from India, was a shrewd move on his part, one of his typical chameleon moves.
By 1920, Henry had risen to the role of Purser aboard SS Spartan Prince, overseeing meals and housekeeping, as well as attending to finances and provisions. It was a significant role and it’s possible that his fellow South Asians grumbled at their countryman’s meteoric rise in station, while they continued to labour in the bowels of the ship. As we shall see, Henry was adept at maintaining a foot in both worlds, something that would stand him in good stead in the years to come.
Post-war shipping was in a slump, however, and Henry left the sea behind. After brief stints ashore in New York and London, the enterprising Henry decided that post-war Germany was a land of opportunity. It was a fascinating move: post-war Germany, buckling under the weight of the Treaty of Versailles, seemed the last place to land. But Obed saw opportunity everywhere.
Hamburg Hustles
Henry landed in Hamburg in June 1922 and settled down in the Sankt Pauli area, a short walk from the docks. The area was populated by the German working class, as well as Chinese and African immigrants. He quickly picked up his entrepreneurial hat and became a partner in an Indo-German import/export company dealing with motor and bicycle accessories to India and Ceylon. At the same time, he operated an Indian store from his apartment—where he sold woolen, steel and “fancy goods” to lascars on shore leave. Other sources describe it as a cigarette shop and restaurant, one that sold liquor to lascars on the sly. Even though his seafaring career was over, Obed remained deeply connected to the maritime networks. Two of his flatmates had maritime connections but the third would provide an association that would dog and hinder Henry as time went on. The third flatmate remains nameless. He was an emissary of the Indian revolutionary M. N. Roy, founder of the Communist Party of India, tasked with investigating Hamburg as a potential smuggling port. That association would dog Henry in the years to come.
One can see why Obed (and his flatmates) might start to ping on the radar of the authorities: selling contraband liquor without a licence, smuggling goods, and spreading communist literature. Lascars who were arrested in Hamburg, or the UK or India, would be pumped for information on their connections and often mentioned Henry Obed and his shop. In addition to selling liquor, Obed also dealt in revolvers. Combine that with Henry’s flatmate sending communist literature to India and one can understand how the German and British (as well as British Indian) authorities would be interested in Henry and his associates. Henry later claimed that the guns were purely for private profit but the authorities were concerned that the guns, combined with the red literature, were destined for an armed uprising. Here, again, we see Henry keeping a foot in both worlds, in both the legal and the illegal, treading a fine line, a balancing act that would eventually get him into trouble.
In 1923, economic restrictions imposed by the German authorities forced Henry to close his seamen’s outfitters’ shop (perhaps he could no longer sell liquor). Hamburg had become too dangerous for Obed—he was under surveillance and he had financial problems. In 1924, Henry migrated to Antwerp where he lived with a contact until he could get his own flat. Once settled, Henry had his wife join him. On 14 January 1924 Henry Obed had married Carolina Margaretha Dora Hormann in Hamburg. Carolina was a formidable woman and one who obviously knew her mind. Carolina’s decision to marry a South Asian man already under surveillance by the German authorities must have required resolve. In marrying Henry, Carolina gave up her German nationality, and so, when she entered Belgium in April 1924, she did so as a British citizen.
Antwerp Menagerie
Even in Antwerp, however, Henry could not outrun his recent past. The Belgian police knew about Henry’s communist contacts and kept an eye on him. But it would appear that Henry and Carolina kept their business operations on the side of legality; their little shop sold everyday products, like smoking supplies, with no evidence of guns or contraband liquor.
In 1927, they built their own two-story house in the waterfront neighbourhood, with the shop on the ground floor. Henry continued to mine his maritime network, advertising his goods by visiting the ships and distributing his card among the lascars. Henry and Carolina did well financially, in part due to a business expansion, when they moved into the livestock trade. In 1925, they began to import exotic animals from India, everything from elephants to tigers and monkeys to birds. He was the sole European agent for Messrs Hussain Bux Ismail & Co. from Karachi. The animals were marketed to zoological gardens across Europe and the United States and the business was quite profitable. Henry and Carolina purchased another property which they used as a depot for the animals.
In 1932, his primary contact at Ismail & Co. died. When Henry switched to a new supplier, the firm’s heir took it as a betrayal, sparking a vendetta that would dog Henry for years. In December 1934, Henry travelled to India on one of his regular trips to purchase animals. While there, he applied for a new passport, as his was due to expire in a few months. The British Indian authorities reviewed his application, but rejected it due to his record of arms smuggling, information that they had been collecting for the past decade.
Henry protested his innocence vigorously, insisting that rivals were spreading lies out of jealousy. He claimed that Jewish businesses he had displaced in Hamburg and Antwerp resented his success, and that fellow migrants with competing ventures slandered him with rumours of wrongdoing.
In April 1935, Henry was brought to trial but was cleared of all charges, primarily because the possession and sale of firearms without a licence was not an offence in Belgium. It was the lascar seamen, who brought the guns back to India, who were the smugglers, not Obed.
Despite his acquittal, the British Indian authorities still refused to issue Henry with a new passport. Carolina was ardent in her support of Henry and wrote many letters advocating on his behalf. Never one to let regulations stop him, Henry bribed passage aboard a ship bound for Europe and arrived back in Antwerp in September 1935. He was home, but he was also passport-less and his business required a great deal of travelling. In January 1936, he applied for a new passport at the British Consulate in Antwerp. The British were quite willing to give him a passport but the Indian authorities strongly opposed the request—the man was a trouble-maker. His request was rejected and even after hiring a lawyer to appeal the decision, it was still a firm “no”. In February 1936 he even wrote to King George VI, to no avail—Henry remained stuck in Belgium.
Without the ability to make regular trips to India to acquire new livestock, Henry’s business slowly began to go downhill. While he had been marooned in India, several shipments of animals had been sent to Europe without proper attention, and many died or sickened on the journey. His wife had to hire an assistant to manage the business during his absence, but even so the loss of animals was a huge financial hit to the business. After his return to Antwerp, Henry and Carolina still received some livestock shipments, but even these had issues. In March 1939, thirty apes escaped from a poorly secured cage, causing a public commotion that further embarrassed the already faltering business.
One can already begin to see how Henry Obed was ripe pickings for the German Abwehr. He had passport issues. He walked a fine line between legal and illegal. He was constantly on the radar of the authorities. His finances were going downhill. On top of that, he was ostensibly a British national, even if they didn’t want to give him a passport.
Recruited by the Abwehr
Obed first started to work for the Abwehr in an official capacity around 1938. He would often ask the lascars about the movement of their ships and, the suspicion was that he reported that back to the Germans. Several lascars reported his inquisitiveness to the British police. There is even a suggestion that “Obed Hussein” — who provided equipment to double-agent SNOW (Arthur Owens) — was Henry himself. Guy Liddell noted in his diary on 27 April 1940 that the supplier was “almost certainly Obed Hussein, a disaffected Indian… well known to Indian Political Intelligence.” If true, it would mark Obed’s first brush with British counter-espionage.
After the Blitzkrieg and invasion of Belgium in May 1940, Henry was almost certainly pressured—if not outright blackmailed—into working for the Germans. Given his criminal record and his British imperial nationality, he was certainly ripe for manipulation.
In the summer and fall of 1940, the Abwehr sent small groups of agents to Ireland. Their logic seemed to be that Ireland was almost a back door to England and that it would be easier for agents to cross from Ireland to England, rather than to brave the fortified southern and eastern shores of England herself. The Germans, unfortunately for Henry, underestimated the Irish and their cooperation with MI6.
On 25 June 1940 Henry Obed was sent to Brest where he met his fellow spies—students Herbert Tributh and Dieter Gärtner—both born in German Southwest Africa (Namibia) and educated and trained in Germany. While Obed had no military training, Tributh and Gärtner were trained in sabotage, and had eight incendiary bombs and associated explosive gear with them. Obed’s role was simply to act as the saboteurs’ guide, given his extensive knowledge of the English language and his familiarity with the customs and culture of the Brits and Irish.
(From West Cork Discovered site)
The team departed Brest on 2 July 1940 aboard the yacht Soizic arriving near Toe Head, County Cork on 6 July. The three men launched their dinghy in the early hours of 7 July. After landing, they asked a boy on a bicycle where the nearest bus stop was. He obligingly told them—leading them straight to a bus into Cork, where the Garda were waiting. Their capture was virtually inevitable. Several local residents had spotted the men wandering around the beach shortly after their landing. Obed stuck out like a sore thumb with his thick Indian accent, and the three were generally conspicuous and amateurish. The failed spies were handed over to G2—Irish Military Intelligence.
Tributh, Gärtner and Obed were tried, found guilty and sentenced to seven years penal servitude. They were imprisoned at Mountjoy Prison and shared their cell with other captured German agents and IRA convicts. This was not a particularly friendly environment for Obed and he was ostracized: Goertz accused him of betraying escape attempts, Simon mocked his music, Preetz beat him over a political dispute, and Tributh and Gärtner blamed him for the mission’s failure.
Obed was nothing if not a vocal advocate for his rights, however, trying to maintain a certain amount of self-respect and dignity. He tried to negotiate an early release and shared information on his fellow prisoners (so Goertz may have had a valid point). In May 1942, the German prisoners were transferred from Mountjoy to Athlone military prison. The Irish authorities got tired of the IRA and German prisoners fraternizing. Obed, true to form, had taken advantage of the IRA inmates by befriending some of them and was able to get letters from his wife channelled through IRA contacts. The move to Athlone was therefore, not a great move for Henry. He had lost his IRA friends and was still in the company of the German bullies. He complained constantly that he was in poor physical health, suffering from chronic bronchitis, as the Irish climate did not agree with him. In early 1943, Obed went on a hunger strike, which lost some of its impact after food was found stored in his prison cell. In early 1945, Obed was transferred to Curragh where it was found he did indeed have chronic bronchitis and high blood pressure. So his complaints did have some legitimacy although he was also someone who didn’t hesitate to over-exaggerate or change his story, if the circumstances warranted. He often exaggerated or shifted his story as needed. Obed was never black and white, but a very grey figure.
Homecoming in Ruins
With the end of the war, the issue of repatriation came up. The other German agents were open and shut cases but Obed’s situation caused headaches for the authorities. The British did not want to send him back to Belgium, where they feared he would resume his smuggling activities. The safest option was to send him to India. The Irish, however, did not want to send him anywhere in the British Empire where they feared he might be persecuted. Finally, India was convinced to accept him, and not charge him with any crimes. Obed, obviously, did not want to return to India, but rather to Belgium, or failing that, to remain in the United Kingdom. The British however, headed him off by leading him to believe a treason trial awaited in the UK.
In 1947, Obed boarded a ship in Liverpool and arrived in Bombay a few weeks later. It was not an auspicious time to be in India. He returned to Lucknow in the midst of Partition—a time of riots and mass displacement of both Hindus and Muslims. Despite the fact that the cost of his passage back to India was supposed to have been covered, he had to pay back the costs of his “voluntary” repatriation to the Indian Government. He finally managed to do that in August 1948.
Obed was not happy in India and was desperate to get back to Belgium—to his wife, his home, his business, or what might remain of it. He applied for a new passport with endorsement for Belgium but was denied, primarily because of his reputation as an arms smuggler. In June 1949 he slipped out of India, possibly via West Pakistan with a forged travel document, and made his way through Marseille and London back to Belgium. It was a long, draining journey, but his troubles were not over when he arrived back home on 15 March 1950.
Two days later, on 17 March 1950, Obed was arrested in Antwerp for entering the country illegally. His wife campaigned ardently on his behalf, to no avail. The Belgians ordered him to leave the country by 14 September, but due to his ill health, the order was postponed several times. Whatever lung disease Henry had picked up in the damp cold of Ireland had not abated with his time back in India. He received a medical certificate from a doctor confirming that he had lung disease, which required him to take complete rest and to refrain from travelling or any other physical exertion. Carolina, for her part, was a heroic woman. She continued to run the seamen’s supply store, and the animal business, while also nursing her husband. Given this evident devotion, later claims that Carolina murdered him seem deeply unfair. The truth was far sadder.
Poison by Mistake
On 20 February 1951 Obed bought a portion of sodium sulphate from the nearby pharmacy. The white powder had several industrial applications, but was also an effective laxative. He had used it on occasion before and took a teaspoon the following morning with his coffee. Almost immediately, he complained of agonizing stomach pain. His doctor attended him and gave him an antidote and a couple of shots, to no avail. He died in the presence of his wife on 21 February at 11:45 a.m. on his resting bed in the kitchen.
Dr. Sohie, the physician who attended Henry, quickly suspected poisoning and the police investigated, but the culprit was not Carolina. An employee at the local pharmacy had accidentally packed sodium fluoride into the container of sodium sulphate sold to Obed. Sodium fluoride is highly toxic in larger dosages causing abdominal pain and potentially cardiac and respiratory arrest. The autopsy confirmed the cause of death and the owner of the pharmacy was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment and a fine of 351,366 francs, payable to Carolina Obed. Contemporary newspapers reported on Henry’s death and the circumstances surrounding his accidental poisoning. He is buried in Schoonselhof cemetery in Antwerp. A blank space left on the tombstone, for his wife, remains empty. The real mystery is: what became of Carolina? After his death, she apparently kept the seamen’s supply store running and moved into the former animal depot. Beyond that, she vanishes from the record. Did she remarry? We don’t know. No documents mention any children.
(From Find-a-Grave)
Epilogue: The Space In-Between
Accounts of Obed’s failed mission often portray him as a comical figure, one of the unlikeliest spies. In reality, he was a complex man who thrived in the precarious space between colonial powers, ideologies, port cities, race categories, and legal jurisdictions. Dealt a poor hand, he turned deficits into opportunities and continually reinvented himself. His life was flawed but deeply human — far more than a tragic comedy.