Chapter 36 of 52 · 4000 words · ~20 min read

Part 36

“There must have been a combination of several causes. Aside from the fact that only in the most extraordinary and rare cases is it possible for a big boat to submerge against a high sea, it is conceivable that in the haste which was forced upon us by the destroyer the tanks were not completely emptied of air.

“But, above all, I recall that my first thought was the cargo. ‘Is the cargo safely stored? Can it lose its equilibrium?’ Curious as it may sound in retrospect, that is what I instinctively thought of. A ‘big steamer’ captain doesn’t easily get rid of his second nature, even on a U-boat.

A WASH, A FEAST AND A NIGHT’S REST ON THE OCEAN BOTTOM

“We have submerged and placed ourselves on the bottom. We are in no hurry. Why should we not for once give ourselves a little rest? Our resting-place was rather deep, but therefore safer and calmer.

“This night on the bottom of the sea was truly a recreation for us all. One could for once take a good wash and go to bed in peace, without fearing to be frightened at the next moment with a ‘Hey-a’ in the speaking-tube.

“But before resting we had a regular banquet. Both the phonographs were playing and the glasses were raised, filled with French champagne.

“Our good Stücke, who was our steward, kitchen boy, and maid of all work, at the same time served us in such a dignified manner as if he were still a steward in the dining-room of the _Kronprinzessin Cecile_, as if he had never been in French captivity for nearly a whole year, in order to develop his ability in our company at the bottom of the sea.

“Again we come to the surface the next morning. The pump is working with a hissing noise as we climb upward. On the twenty-meter depth the boat loses its stability.

“First, we can see it on the manometer, then it is noticed on the depth rudder, which becomes more difficult to handle. And as the boat at times moves in unexpected jumps we realize there must be a considerable sea above.

RISING TO THE SURFACE

“I now carefully rise to the periscope depth and proceed for a time in this position and am looking around. Nothing can be seen except a stormy army of white wave-crests. This weather suits me exactly, as we need not be on our guard so very closely.

“I decided therefore to rise to the surface. But before this is done the boat must be placed across the wind, as the long heavy hull would not otherwise be able to climb out of the water.

“At slow speed, we place the _Deutschland_ right across the seas. The boat rolls fearfully. It feels just as if the soul would shake out of its body, and now it obeys the deep rudder and its nose rises slowly out of the water.

“When we are completely out of the water the ship makes the alarming motions of a pendulum all around the compass. Then comes the unpleasant moment when we have to turn the ship slowly into its course.

“Protected by the thick conning tower windows, which the heavy seas are continually washing over and streaming down, with arms and legs ready to withstand the sharp twistings of our craft, I keep watch on all sides.”

They were getting out of the North Sea into the Atlantic currents, in an increasing storm. The boat plunged and tossed sickeningly and the navigation was hard work. Finally they were free of the turbulent sea and rode into the ocean proper and its less angry motion.

OUT INTO THE BROAD ATLANTIC

“The reception of the Atlantic can not be called cordial. We undoubtedly had got accustomed to much during the past days, but I decide as far as possible to save my men’s nerves so that they will be able to withstand that which was about to come. I therefore selected the southerly course, hoping to get better weather, but I was not entirely successful. The seas continually sweep over the boat from stem to stern, because it is too heavy to be lifted out of them as other steamers are.

“It certainly was not pleasant in the conning-tower, but it was a thousand times better than below deck, where the crew, because of the unbroken rolling of the ship, began to suffer on account of seasickness in the close and stagnant air. Many an old sailor offered himself on the altar of Neptune for the first time.

“On the third day the storm begins to abate, the sea becomes calmer, and we can open all the hatches in order to get air and dry out. All who were off duty came up to stretch themselves on the deck in the sunshine and pull themselves together again after their confinement and suffering during the rough weather, which certainly was necessary. With pale faces, worn out by sleepless nights, they came out of the hatches, but hardly had they reached the fresh air and had felt the beautiful sea-wind blowing on their cheeks refreshingly before the dear cigars or pipes were produced.”

Following days were fair for a time and the boat rode the surface. It was the daily practice on fair days to put the _Deutschland_ through her diving exercises so important to efficiency in a sudden emergency. A very considerable part of the westward trip was made on the surface, though storms and the prospect of unfriendly encounters often enough sent them below.

A DUMMY SMOKE-STACK

“During the calm days we had prepared a clever disguise which would change us from a submarine to a regular steamer. Out of sail-cloth we had made a smoke-stack which, with steel rings, we could fasten to the periscope and raise it up. To cover the conning-tower we had a dressing of sail-cloth so that it would look like the deck-house on a small freight-steamer. In this way we made ready for any possibility and directed our course through the beautiful sunshine until one evening at half-past seven a steamer appeared ahead of us on the port bow. We knew at once that he would pass close if we continued on our course. We changed it a little, swinging off a few points in order to test our disguise.

“The smoke-stack is hoisted on the periscope and bellies out in the wind. In order to make it more real we build a fire in the lower opening, using cotton soaked in oil for fuel. At the same moment the conning-tower disappears under the cover, which trembles in the breeze. The oily cotton loses its honor and only stinks. There is no smoke coming from it. Every one is standing blowing with cheeks puffed out until our ‘tradelose,’ a foxy Berliner, fetches an air-pump and gets a big flame in our fake stoke-hole. With one hurrah his trick is rewarded; above the smoke-stack’s upper opening we could see a slender stream of smoke only to diminish to nothing in the next minute. We roar with laughter and again make ready to proceed with our dummy smoke-stack minus smoke.

[Illustration:

The _Deutschland_ Arriving at Bremen, Having Returned from a Trans-Atlantic Voyage]

“When our boatswain, Humke, comes with a jar filled with tar, the air-pump again starts to work, and at last big clouds of smoke pour out of the funnel. The effect was great. The steamer, which was at a distance, suddenly changes its course and comes straight for us.

“This we had never expected. I therefore order the mast taken down and make ready for diving. Our canvas covering disappears from the conning-tower and with a deep bow the smoke-stack comes down.

“As soon as the steamer sees this change in our make-up, fear fills his heart. He changes his course and flees, throwing thick, black clouds of smoke which we admire not without a feeling of jealousy.

“Without hindrance we again hoist our funnel. The masts are raised. And while our steamer speeds away in her wild flight we laugh so the tears run down our cheeks.

“Our fine disguise which was intended to let us pass unnoticed had instead attracted the steamer’s attention to us. He undoubtedly took us for a wreck or a ship in distress and came toward us with the kind intentions to save us. When he could suddenly see himself the target for the devilish cunning of a foxy U-boat he fled precipitately.

“What did the people of the steamer think when they recovered from their scare? Maybe they felt proud to have been able to escape from the heartless ‘pirate.’ And we, who would have been so proud if our disguise had worked a little better, were preparing to sink below the surface to avoid him.

“Well, we thought, ‘better luck next time,’ and we improved our invention with the result that two days later, while throwing off solid clouds of smoke, we passed by a steamer which we met without causing the least suspicion.”

And so without mishap or misadventure the _Deutschland_ fared to her destination, tarried some while in the American port where officers and men were discreetly entertained, the United States being a neutral country then. Suddenly, mysteriously she put to sea again. Many were the rumors of disaster to her—for the return trip was long and beset with peril from paroling and watchful destroyers eager to catch sight of her; but in due course and in triumphant contradiction of reports of her destruction the first authentic news was of her safe return to the home harbor.

WEDDIGEN’S WONDER FEAT

The Dramatic Sinking of Three British Cruisers by U-boat in the Early Days of the War

Early on the morning of September 22, 1914, three 12,000-ton armored cruisers of the British Navy—the _Aboukir_, the _Cressy_, and the _Hogue_—were torpedoed in the North Sea and sunk by a German submarine, with a loss of 1,433 men. The news startled the whole world. It was as if three Goliaths, imposing, formidable, on parade in panoply, challenging the stoutest, had succumbed impotently to the assault of the diminutive David—for it was a solitary submarine that sank the naval giants in less than an hour. So adroit, rapid and precise had been the maneuvers of the submarine that the officers of the attacked warships were of the belief that there were several of the invisible devil-boats, and that the guns of the _Cressy_ sank one of them. Nor did they become the wiser until Captain Lieutenant Otto Weddigen, commander of _U-9_, made report of his exploit on his return to Wilhelmshaven, whence he had set forth for the enterprise. Conditions, be it said, were entirely favorable to him, for the sea was calm, and the weather clear. The three cruisers, unsuspicious, were steaming along in close formation, patrolling the silent sea, and they gave him a famous victory—the destruction of the first warships by the U-boat.

There follow three separate accounts of the event as related by three different sources, the first being that of an officer of the _Cressy_, published in the _Manchester Guardian_.

[Illustration:

Crew Quarters Aboard a German Submarine

The vast machinery leaves but little room for the crew. They enjoy none of the conveniences found on vessels that ply above water.]

EYE-WITNESS ACCOUNT BY AN OFFICER OF THE _Cressy_

“I was awakened about 6:15 by the increase of our speed, and, thinking it was nothing more than just a slight spurt to take up our day patrol position, I lay quiet. However, about ten minutes later I felt the engines going full speed astern, so, guessing at once that something out of the ordinary was happening, I sat up, and, opening my scuttle, looked out. Conceive the jump I gave when I saw the _Aboukir_, about half a mile away, heeling over to port so that the starboard copper plates were plainly visible glistening red in the sun. I could also see considerable commotion on board her, and one of her starboard sea boats was lowered half-way, but seemed to have stuck there.

“While I watched she seemed to heel over still more, so I leapt from my bunk, and, running into the next cabin, I found —— jumping out of his bunk, and together we ran up on to the quarterdeck. From there we could see that in the short time we had taken getting up on deck she turned over much more, and was down by the head, and while we watched we could see the sun shining on pink, naked men walking down her sides inch by inch as she heeled over, some standing, others sitting down and sliding into the water, which was soon dotted with heads. All this time we were hard at it lowering boats.

“Both the sea-boats had gone, manned by nucleus crews, and Lieutenant ——’s voice could be heard as he directed the hands working the main derrick, which was hoisting up the launch—a boat capable of holding two or three hundred men. Other men under the direction of another lieutenant were busily throwing overboard every bit of wood that they could find for the swimming men to clutch—an act which materially aided in our escape afterward. I then ran along to the sick-bay and ordered the stewards to get hot blankets and coffee ready, and went below to get into some clothes.

“THE SHIP LIFTED, QUIVERING ALL OVER”

“I had only been in my cabin about a minute when there was a terrific crash, and the ship lifted up, quivering all over. A second or two later another and duller crash, and a great cloud of smoke, followed by a torrent of water, came pouring in through my open scuttle. The noise for a second or two was deafening; everything seemed to be breaking, and somewhere or other I could hear dishes and glass being crashed to pieces on the deck, and, in addition, all the lights in the ship went out. I ran out of my cabin and along to the first ladder, the aft deck being in darkness and full of smoke; conceive my dismay when I found that it had fallen down.”

However, he found another ladder, farther on. On the deck was worse confusion than before. There was nothing left to do but make escape in the shortest possible order. He climbed down into the sea.

“The first piece I clung to had sharp edges which hurt, so I left that and swam to a table floating near. Then another man came up and climbed on to my table, so I left it to him and struck out for a large spar which I caught sight of some little distance off. This afforded a very comfortable hold, and I lay over it, kicking gently with my legs to keep them warm, and I looked about me. Both the _Aboukir_ and the _Hogue_ had gone, and the _Cressy_ was in front of me, about a quarter of a mile away. Then she began to fire her guns, and, hearing the shells going over my head, I looked behind, and there, about 300 yards off, I saw the periscope of a submarine.

“For some time the firing continued, several of the shells bursting most unpleasantly near, and then the men on the _Cressy_ started cheering, and I heard after that they were unanimously of the opinion—true or not, I don’t know—that they had sunk one of the submarines. However, the firing continued for some time, till there was a sudden explosion, and a great column of smoke, black as ink, flew up as high as the _Cressy’s_ funnels, while she heeled over about ten degrees. Nothing much further seemed to happen, however, and, looking about me, I caught sight of —— hanging on to a large fender of twigs, which kept revolving and ducking him under, so, calling to him, I started to push my spar toward him till I got near enough, and then, giving it a vigorous shove, pushed it alongside him and swam after it.

“The two of us clung to that for some time, till the sound of an explosion made us look round to see the spray and smoke disappearing, and as we watched another torpedo struck, and the _Cressy_ heeled right over and almost entirely disappeared in a very short space of time, the last few feet of ‘island,’ however, taking a very long time to go. Soon after this I realized the wonderful fact that as the _Hogue_ sank she must have righted herself, for the picket boat and steam pinnace had in some miraculous way floated clear quite undamaged, though half full of water, and were now about one hundred yards from us. Turning the spar so that it lay pointing toward the boats, and slipping the fingers of my left hand into a notch that seemed made for the purpose, I turned on my side and started to tow the spar toward the boats.

“These were soon reached, and we found that some four or five people had already boarded them. With their help we scrambled on board, having been in the water about an hour and a quarter. After this there is not much to tell. The _Flora_ hove in sight when we had been in the boat about an hour, followed by the _Titan_, and in an hour more we naked, shivering mortals were all taken off to the former.”

THE OFFICIAL REPORT

In the official report to the Admiralty made by Commander Bertram W. L. Nicholson we find the expression of the belief that there were several submarines, and that one was sunk. The report is quoted:

“The _Aboukir_ was struck at about 6.25 a.m. on the starboard beam. The _Hogue_ and _Cressy_ closed and took up a position, the _Hogue_ ahead of the _Aboukir_, and the _Cressy_ about 400 yards on her port beam. As soon as it was seen that the _Aboukir_ was in danger of sinking all the boats were sent away from the _Cressy_, and a picket boat was hoisted out without steam up. When cutters full of the _Aboukir’s_ men were returning to the _Cressy_, the _Hogue_ was struck, apparently under the aft 9.2 magazine, as a very heavy explosion took place immediately. Almost directly after the _Hogue_ was hit we observed a periscope on our port bow about 300 yards off.

“Fire was immediately opened and the engines were put full speed ahead with the intention of running her down. Our gunner, Mr. Dougherty, positively asserts that he hit the periscope and that the submarine sank. An officer who was standing alongside the gunner thinks that the shell struck only floating timber, of which there was much about, but it was evidently the impression of the men on deck, who cheered and clapped heartily, that the submarine had been hit. This particular submarine did not fire a torpedo at the _Cressy_.

“Captain Johnson then maneuvered the ship so as to render assistance to the crews of the _Hogue_ and _Aboukir_. About five minutes later another periscope was seen on our starboard quarter and fire was opened. The track of the torpedo she fired at a range of 500 to 600 yards was plainly visible and it struck us on the starboard side just before the after-bridge.

“The ship listed about 10 degrees to the starboard and remained steady. The time was 7.15 a.m. All the watertight doors, deadlights and scuttles had been securely closed before the torpedo struck the ship. All the mess stools and table shores, and all available timber below and on deck had been previously got up and thrown over side for the saving of life.

“A second torpedo fired by the same submarine missed and passed about 10 feet astern. About a quarter of an hour after the first torpedo had hit a third torpedo fired from a submarine just before the starboard beam hit us under the No. 5 boiler room. The time was 7.30 a.m. The ship then began to heel rapidly, and finally turned keel up, remaining so for about twenty minutes before she finally sank, at 7.55 a.m.

“A large number of men were saved by casting adrift on Pattern 3 target. The steam pinnace floated off her clutches, but filled and sank.

“The second torpedo which struck the _Cressy_ passed over the sinking hull of the _Aboukir_, narrowly missing it. It is possible that the same submarine fired all three torpedoes at the _Cressy_.

“The conduct of the crew was excellent throughout. I have already remarked on the bravery displayed by Captain Phillips, master of the trawler _L. T. Coriander_, and his crew, who picked up 156 officers and men.”

[Illustration:

The Daily Wash Aboard a German Torpedo Boat

Germany’s torpedo boats were outclassed by her U-boats. In the battle of Jutland the world first heard of the torpedo boats’ extensive use.]

CAPT. WEDDIGEN’S OWN STORY

And here is the story of the daring enterprise, one of the most extraordinary of naval exploits, told by Captain Lieutenant Otto Weddigen, Commander of _U-9_. He was 32 years old at the time, and for the five years preceding had been attached to the submarine flotilla. He was married but twenty-four hours to his boyhood sweetheart, a Miss Prete of Hamburg, before he set out on the adventure that offered more than an even chance of making the bride a widow. Besides himself there were twenty-five men in the _U-9_ and they were a picked crew.

Weddigen’s own story of the cruise, first published in the United States by the New York _World_, was in part as follows:

“I set out from a North Sea port on one of the arms of the Kiel Canal and set my course in a southwesterly direction. The name of the port I cannot state officially, but it has been guessed at; nor am I permitted to say definitely just when we started, but it was not many days before the morning of Sept. 22, when I fell in with my quarry.

“When I started from home the fact was kept quiet and a heavy sea helped to keep the secret, but when the action began the sun was bright and the water smooth.

“I had sighted several ships during my passage, but they were not what I was seeking. English torpedo boats came within, my reach, but I felt there was bigger game further on, so on I went. I traveled on the surface except when we sighted vessels, and then I submerged, not even showing my periscope, except when it was necessary to take bearings. It was ten minutes after 6 on the morning of Tuesday when I caught sight of one of the big cruisers of the enemy.

“I was then eighteen sea miles northwest of the Hook of Holland. I had then traveled considerably more than 200 miles from my base. My boat was one of an old type, but she had been built on honor, and she was behaving beautifully. I had been going ahead partly submerged, with about five feet of my periscope showing. Almost immediately I caught sight of the first cruiser and two others. I submerged completely and laid my course so as to bring up in the center of the trio, which held a sort of triangular formation. I could see their gray-black sides riding high over the water.

“When I first sighted them they were near enough for torpedo work, but I wanted to make my aim sure, so I went down and in on them. I had taken the position of the three ships before submerging, and I succeeded in getting another flash through my periscope before I began action. I soon reached what I regarded as a good shooting point.”