Chapter 35 of 52 · 3990 words · ~20 min read

Part 35

And this word from Laurence Driggs:

“After having visited some sixty-odd British flying squadrons at the front, many of the French escadrilles and all of the American squadrons, I was given the pleasure of entering Germany, after the armistice was signed, as the guest of the Hat-in-the-Ring Squadron, of which Captain Rickenbacker was and is the commanding officer. In no other organization in France did I find so great a loyalty to a leader, such true squadron fraternalism, such subordination of the individual to the organization. In other words, the commander of 94 Squadron had perfected the finest flying corps I have ever seen.”

THE GUNBOAT

_By_

Dana Burnet

Out in the good, clean water where it’s blue and wide and deep, The pride of Britain’s navy lies with thunders all asleep, And the men they fling their British songs along the open sky, But the little modest gunboat, she’s a-creepin’ in to die!

The First Line’s swingin’ lazy on the purple outer ring, The proudest ships that ever kept the honor of a King! But nosin’ down the roadway past the bones of other wrecks Goes the doughty little gunboat with her manhood on her decks!

Oh, the First Line’s in the offing, with its shotted lightnings pent, The proudest fleet that ever kept the King in his sacrament! But down the death-sown harbor where a ship may find her grave, The plucky little gunboat is a-sinkin’ ’neath the wave!

Then sing your British chanteys to the ends of all the seas, And fling your British banners to the Seven Oceans’ breeze— But when you tell the gallant tale beneath the open sky Give honor to the gunboat that was not too small to die!

CAPTAIN FRYATT’S MURDER

A Court-Martial in Which Vengeful Malice Mocked Justice and the Rules of Naval War In the Lust of Blood

Brutal blundering was a German characteristic throughout the war. Indeed it has been declared more than once that her abandonment of moral restraints and obligations, imposed by international codes and the laws of humanity, is responsible for Germany’s overthrow. Without entering into that question it is admitted that two of the German blunders—both of which were subjects of diplomatic efforts at prevention—which incensed the world and roused the United States from its dream of neutrality were the murders of Edith Cavell and Capt. Charles Fryatt. We have told the story of Miss Cavell; that of Capt. Fryatt is no less a testimony to German turpitude if less revolting to sentiment in that the first was a nurse, a ministering angel to the sick and wounded (German soldiers included) whose offense was due to her compassion for the helpless and hunted.

Capt. Fryatt, an Englishman, was master of the Great Eastern Railway Company’s steamer _Brussels_, a merchant vessel. June 23, 1916, the _Brussels_ was captured by German warships. (The circumstances of the capture are presented in the report of First Officer Hartwell, which follows later.) The steamer, its officers and the crew were taken to Zeebrugge and searched. On Capt. Fryatt was found a gold watch that had been presented to him by the Mayor of Harwich at a public demonstration in his honor, the inscription commemorating an incident of March 20, 1915, when Capt. Fryatt attempted to ram the German submarine _U-33_, to avoid capture or destruction. After a brief imprisonment at Zeebrugge he was transferred to Bruges, where, July 27th, he was tried by court-martial, was condemned to be shot as a _franc-tireur_ and was executed that same afternoon.

June 28th the English Government first learned of the Germans’ intention to try Fryatt by court-martial, and immediately undertook to arrange for his proper defense. Sir Edward Grey telegraphed to the American Ambassador at Berlin requesting his efforts in this behalf and that he would convey to the German authorities the contention of the English Government that “in committing the act impugned Capt. Fryatt acted legitimately and in self-defense for the purpose of evading capture or destruction, and that the act of a merchant ship in steering for an enemy submarine and forcing her to dive is essentially defensive and precisely on the same footing as the use by a defensively armed vessel of her defensive armament in order to resist capture, which both the United States and His Majesty’s Government hold to be the exercise of an undoubted right.”

In spite of possible influence and efforts, Ambassador Gerard’s intervention was unavailing, and on July 27th, the very day of the execution, he telegraphed to London that his efforts to secure a postponement of the trial were futile because the German Government insisted that “the German submarine witnesses could not be further detained.” In other words, the men whose business it was to conduct a sea campaign of lawlessness and “frightfulness” could not be delayed from their destructive work by anything so paltry as a consideration of justice and honor in the trial of a prisoner.

GERMAN EXULTATION

Neither Sir Edward Grey and Ambassador Gerard, nor others interested in securing a fair trial for the accused, imagined that his trial and execution would be the hurried work of an afternoon, and there was consternation when a Reuter despatch of July 28th gave the first news of the shooting and made public the German _communiqué_ as follows:

“The accused was condemned to death because although he was not a member of a combatant force, he made an attempt on the afternoon of March 20, 1915, to ram the German submarine _U-33_ near the Maas Lighthouse. The accused as well as the first officer and the chief engineer of the steamer received at the time from the British Admiralty a gold watch as a reward of his brave conduct on that occasion, and his action was mentioned with praise in the House of Commons.

“On the occasion in question, disregarding the U-boat’s signal to stop and show his national flag, he turned at a critical moment at high speed on the submarine, which escaped the steamer by a few meters only by immediately diving. He confessed that in so doing he had acted in accordance with instructions from the Admiralty.

“One of the many nefarious _franc-tireur_ proceedings of the British Merchant Marine against our war vessels has thus found a belated but merited expiation.”

This report aroused intense indignation in England, and hardly less resentful feelings in neutral countries, especially in the United States, whose Ambassador in Berlin was the intermediary of the English protest against the basis of the court-martial. At once the British Foreign Office addressed a note to Ambassador Page in London in which was the statement:

“His Majesty’s Government finds it difficult to believe that a master of a merchant ship who, after German submarines adopted the practice of sinking merchant vessels without warning and without regard to the lives of passengers or crew, took the only means at his disposal of saving not only the vessel but the lives of all on board can have been deliberately shot in cold blood for that action”; and the request was made that urgent inquiry be made by the United States Embassy at Berlin.

The inquiry made it only too clear that the report was authoritative. Premier Asquith, in the House of Commons, July 31st, said: “I deeply regret that it appears to be true that Captain Fryatt has been murdered by the Germans.” That he was not speaking extravagantly in using the word “murdered” is evidenced by the fact that naval and military experts, including those of Holland, strongly suspected of more than a casual sympathy with the Germans, concurred in denouncing the execution as a “judicial murder,” and insisting that Fryatt was entitled to be regarded as a prisoner of war. In the subsequent review of the case it was demonstrated conclusively by many citations from German legal and military naval sources in declarations and regulations made in 1914 and earlier that “Capt. Fryatt was well within his rights in attempting to ram a hostile marine.” Had he sent the submarine with her crew to the bottom by shell fire in avoiding capture or destruction, he would have been held as a prisoner of war if subsequently captured, but because he used the only weapon at his command to escape the enemy vessel itself, “he was condemned to execution by a court of German naval officers as a _franc-tireur_.”

August 15th, in the House of Commons, Premier Asquith declared: “This country will not tolerate a resumption of diplomatic relations with Germany after the war until reparation is made for the murder of Capt. Fryatt.”

THE FIRST OFFICER’S REPORT

The first officer of the _Brussels_, referred to in the German _communiqué_ quoted, was William Hartwell. He was interned in Holland and from there sent the following report to Mr. C. Busk, one of the officials of the Great Eastern Railway. It gives all the particulars known of the arrest and execution of Capt. Fryatt:

“Sir: This being the first opportunity since the capture of the _Brussels_ in 1916, I will endeavor to give you details of the capture and happenings up to July 27th, this being the date of Capt. Fryatt’s death. I beg to report that on June 22d the steamship _Brussels_ left Rotterdam with cargo and passengers for Tilbury, stopping at the Hook of Holland. She left the Hook Quay at 11 p. m. on that day, the weather being very fine and clear. All saloon and cabin lights were extinguished before passing the North Pier Light. Directly after passing it, a very bright light was shown from the beach, about four miles north of the Hook, followed by a bright star, such as a rocket would throw. After a lapse of ten minutes this was repeated. On both occasions Capt. Fryatt and myself remarked upon it, as we had never seen similar lights on any previous occasions. After passing the Maas Light Vessel, all Board of Trade Regulation Lights were darkened. Five miles west of the light vessel a very small craft, probably a submarine not submerged, commenced Morseing the letter ‘S’ at intervals. No other lights were visible.

“After running for one hour and thirty minutes, an extra sharp lookout was kept for a steamer that was going in the same direction and without lights, the port and starboard lights of the _Brussels_ being put on for the time being. At 12:46 craft without lights were seen at a point on the starboard bow, traveling at a great speed in the opposite direction. These proved to be German destroyers of the latest type, five in all. Two came alongside on the starboard side, and one on the port side, the other two following close behind. During the time the destroyers were approaching their commanders were shouting orders to stop, asking the name of the ship, and threatening to fire on us. No firing occurred, however. As soon as Capt. Fryatt was assured that the destroyers were German, he gave orders for all passengers to be ready to take to the boats if necessary, and quietly instructed me to destroy all dispatches and official papers. His instructions were carried out, and as the last bag was destroyed German seamen, armed with pistols and bombs, appeared on the starboard alleyway. I passed through the saloon to the deck and met more German seamen, who were driving all the crew they could find over the rail on to the destroyers. I was ordered over the rail, but refused to go, and then met the officer who came on board to take charge. He requested me to show him to the bridge, which I did. He greeted Capt. Fryatt, and congratulated himself over the great prize.

GERMAN INTELLIGENCE

“Satisfied that all was well, the destroyers left and made for Zeebrugge. The course was given for the Schouwenbank light vessel, and the order was given for full speed ahead, but no reply came from the engine room, as the engineers had been driven over the side with the majority of the crew. This greatly excited the German officer, who drew his revolver and threatened to shoot Capt. Fryatt and myself if we failed to assist him, and to blow up the ship if the orders to the engine room were not complied with at once. It was some minutes before the German officer could be convinced that the engineers and most of the crew were on the destroyers. He then ordered his own men to the engine room, and instead of going full speed ahead, the engines were put on full speed astern. This also angered the officer, and matters became very unpleasant on the bridge. I was ordered to go to the engine room to inform the Germans of their mistake. By this time the steam was greatly falling back, owing to the stokers being away, and the order was given that all on board, except Capt. Fryatt and myself, should maintain steam till the ship arrived at Zeebrugge. On reaching the Schouwenbank light vessel the German flag was hoisted, and directly after the Flushing mail boat for Tilbury passed quite close.

[Illustration:

Naval Honors for Captain Fryatt

The body received from Belgium is being escorted in lengthy procession through the streets of Dover.]

“Capt. Fryatt was assured that soon after her arrival at Tilbury the capture of the _Brussels_ would be reported. The _Brussels_ was met and escorted by several airplanes to Zeebrugge, where the destroyers were already moored. On arrival at Zeebrugge the _Brussels_ was moored alongside the Mole. The engineers and crew all returned. The crew were sent to their quarters and kept under armed guard. The officers and engineers were placed under a guard in the smokeroom, and Captain the same in his room. The Belgian refugees were closely searched, and landed at Zeebrugge. After a stay of about five hours the _Brussels_ left and proceeded to Bruges under her own steam.

[Illustration:

Memorial Service to Captain Fryatt at St. Paul’s, London]

“For some reason Capt. Fryatt was kept in his cabin, and I was sent to the bridge, not to assist or officiate in any way, but simply to stand under guard and to be questioned at intervals by the Germans if they could get the right answers. During the passage from Zeebrugge to Bruges both sides of the canal were thronged in places, and both the soldiers and the marine Landsturm were greatly excited. On reaching Bruges the crew were taken off and sent to a waiting shed. Only Capt. Fryatt and myself, with many German officers, remained on board. After we had been questioned at lunch Capt. Fryatt and I were photographed, and we then joined the crew in the shed, being afterward taken to a building in the town. All of us, including stewardesses and twenty-five Russians, were packed in, leaving scarcely standing room.

SHIPPED LIKE CATTLE

“After some hours, following a request to the prison commandant, the stewardesses were allowed separate quarters in the top of the building. Otherwise they were treated in the same way as male prisoners until they were separated to go to a different camp. At 3 a. m., on June 25th, orders came for all to be ready for the train to Germany, the stewardesses joining us at the station. At 5 a. m. we all left, closely packed, in cattle trucks, and on arrival at Ghent we were escorted to very dirty and unhealthful quarters underground. At 5 a. m. on the following day we left Ghent for Germany, via Cologne, where the stewardesses and Russians were separated to go to other camps. After being exhibited at Berlin, as at Hanover and other stations, the rest went to Ruhleben, where they arrived at 5 p. m., June 28th. Two days later Capt. Fryatt and I received orders to the effect that we were to be prepared to leave the camp at 8 p. m. for Bruges on ship’s business.

“We arrived at Bruges at 7 a. m., on July 2d, after visiting Ostend by mistake on the part of the escort. We reported to the port commandant at 9 a. m., and were taken from him to the town prison and put in cells. From then onward we were treated as criminals. We were occasionally visited by German officials and questioned as to the submarine and other subjects, on which Capt. Fryatt made a clear and open statement to the Germans, with nothing condemning to himself. From the time of being placed in the prison at Bruges to July 15th I saw Capt. Fryatt and spoke to him on several occasions, after which I never spoke to him until one hour before he was shot.

“I will endeavor to make you understand the so-called tribunal or trial. On July 24th Capt. Fryatt and myself were questioned and cross-questioned in the prison, and, so far as I could learn, Capt. Fryatt never added to or departed from his opening statement. It was then that we were first informed of the tribunal that was to follow. On July 26th we were told to be ready for the tribunal, which was to take place at Bruges Town Hall on the 27th at 11 a. m. On July 27th at 9 a. m. the door of the cell was opened, and an escort was waiting. To my surprise, four of the crew were in the waiting cell. Each man was escorted to the Town Hall, Capt. Fryatt and I being the last to go, and placed under a strong guard until the trial began.

“At 12 noon Capt. Fryatt was called into his place before the so-called bench, and repeated his previous statement. I followed and answered questions that appeared to be ridiculous, not appearing either to defend or condemn Capt. Fryatt. At the same time an officer in uniform appeared, and, approaching Capt. Fryatt and myself, informed us in broken English that he was for the defense. The Naval Commandant of the port conducted the trial, and also acted as interpreter. At 4 p. m. the Naval Commandant informed us that all was over so far, and that the decision, resting with the naval officers, would be made known to us in our cells.

SIXTEEN BULLETS

“After being again placed in the cells, the chief warder of the prison came to me at 5:30 p. m. and told me I was to go and stop with Capt. Fryatt, as that was his last night. I then met Capt. Fryatt, who was very much distressed, not so much because of the verdict, but of the unfair and cowardly manner in which everything was done. He told me himself that he was to be shot on the next morning, and after having a talk for about an hour—it was then 6:30 p. m.—the prison official took his watch from his pocket and said that in a short time the escort would be there, and Capt. Fryatt would be shot at 7 p. m. The last twenty-five minutes I spent with him were appalling. At 6:55 p. m. I wished him good-bye, and promised I would deliver his last messages, which were many, and returned to my cell.

“Punctually at 7 p. m., a very short distance from the prison walls, a band commenced to play, and poor Fryatt was no more. Late the same evening an official came to my cell and described to me, in the best way he could, how Fryatt died. He was shot by sixteen rifles, the bullets of which penetrated through his heart, carrying with them the clothes he was wearing through the body and out at the back.

“Sir, I was and am still proud of Capt. Fryatt’s manly conduct right up to the last, and I may add that there was not a German present at the trial who could face him.”

[Illustration:

Captain Fryatt’s Grave]

The Germans made a long official statement in an impotent attempt to justify this vengeful murder.

[Illustration:

The _Deutschland_ Arriving at Baltimore

The _Deutschland’s_ maiden trip was a trans-Atlantic voyage from Bremen. Its cargo was worth over two hundred thousand dollars in dyestuffs and medicines of German manufacture.]

JULES VERNE VINDICATED

How Capt. Paul Koenig of the _Deutschland_ Turned Incredible Fiction Into Practical Reality

There was a very positive thrill throughout the world when the startling report was published that a German submarine had crossed the Atlantic and, on July 10, 1915, entered an American port. It had not been believed possible at that time for a submarine to make so great and perilous a voyage, and the first news of the unique achievement was somewhat sceptically received. But when there was no remaining doubt that the _Deutschland_, dodging and evading British hostile craft, had actually voyaged from Bremen to Baltimore, Capt. Paul Koenig, commander of the U-boat, was prominently head-lined in the press.

This historic event was interesting not only as something new and wonderful in marine annals, but there was a graver interest in the demonstration of the fact that distance from the base of operations was no sure protection from submarine warfare. No little alarm was manifested in the United States for a time. But this subsided, and the romantic side of the exploit appealed to the dullest imagination.

When Capt. Koenig returned to Germany he wrote his experiences in book form, parts of which have been translated into several languages. No more absorbing story than Koenig’s own could easily be written, and from an American version of it the following excerpts were made.

After leaving port the _Deutschland_ traveled submerged until they were far out in the North Sea on their westerly course. It was about two o’clock in the morning. Capt. Koenig thought it safe to rise to the surface and gave orders for the emptying of the tanks. But as the boat approached the surface it began to toss and plunge in a way that gave warning of a storm above. The nearer the surface the wilder the antics of the boat, which occasionally indulged in regular leaps. The emptying of the tanks went calmly on nevertheless, Capt. Koenig being of the order of men not to be moved from a purpose by so inconsiderable a thing as an ill-mannered sea. They got to the surface without too much disorder. Then says Capt. Koenig:

“I was just about to give orders to put on the oil-engines—when—what was that? That dark stripe over there—wasn’t that a smoke-flag? _Donnerwetter!_ It’s a destroyer!

“With one leap I am back in the turret and have closed the tower-hatch. ‘Alarm—submerge quickly—depth rudder—go to twenty meters.’

“The whole boat trembles and shakes under the increased pressure and makes a couple of real jumps; it literally reels in the wild sea. Will it not go down pretty soon? With a sudden jerk the _Deutschland_ darts below the surface and now, bending her bow lower and lower, rapidly descends into the depths. The light of the just dawning day disappears from the turret windows, the manometer shows in quick succession, two, three, six, ten meters. But the bow drops lower and lower.

“The boat had bent forward in an angle of 36 degrees and stood on its head, as it were. Its bow rested on the sea’s bottom and its stern was violently swinging back and forth. The manometer showed a depth of about fifteen meters. I quickly realized our situation. It was something less than comfortable.

“We were revealing our position by a peculiar buoy, and we expected momentarily to hear the crashing blow of a shell in the stern. But everything remained quiet. The screws could no longer betray us. Also it probably was still too dark up there, and the destroyer perhaps had enough of its own troubles in the wild sea.