inspection of these laid-up ships in the Elbe. _A number of them were
found to have been filled with concrete, with the evident intention of
using them as block ships._ Naturally, no explanation of what had been
in the wind to prompt this action was volunteered, but the fact that the
work had been done at a comparatively recent date pointed strongly to
the probability that the Germans, stung to the quick by the blocking of
Zeebrugge and Ostend, were preparing a reply, most likely against the
entrance to the Tyne. One has only to look at the chart to understand
that the latter is a readily "blockable" estuary--to any adequately
equipped force able to reach the proper point. Needless to say, such
a contingency was not unprovided against, and it would have been a
near-miracle if even the most dare-devil leadership could have brought
such a force halfway across the North Sea. Whether the armistice put
an end to uncompleted preparations, or whether the plan was given up
in despair before that time (perhaps through a failure to secure the
necessary force of volunteers), there was nothing to indicate, though
doubtless revelations throwing light on this interesting mystery will be
forthcoming from Germany before long.
Fortunately, the concrete had been put into these ships in the form of
blocks instead of being poured, so that the clearing of their holds was
not a serious matter.
The drives in motor-cars through the streets of Hamburg revealed the
same well-dressed, well-fed crowds which had been so much in evidence
in Wilhelmshaven, and not even in the docks or shipyards were there
any signs of the starvation we had been assured prevailed in all the
great industrial centres. The people were mildly curious but not in
the least unfriendly. The only occasion on which anything unpleasant
occurred was when a navvy, splashed by the mud from one of the leading
cars, petulantly slammed his shovel through the glass of the next in
line. The nerves and tempers of the three French shipping commissioners
were the only things beside the glass which suffered seriously as a
consequence of this contretemps. The Workmen's and Soldiers' guards
promptly asserted their authority by arresting the captious culprit,
profuse apologies for the indignity were offered by the German officers
conducting the party at the time, and later the President of their
Shipping Commission called on Commodore Bevan at the hotel to make
formal expression of regrets.
There was a refreshing naïveté in the explanation offered by one of the
German officers of the reason for this little incident. "It was all the
fault of the chauffeur," he said. "The man used to drive for Admiral
X---- of the General Staff, and he forgot that he must no longer let his
car throw mud on the street workmen."
The German naval officer who received the Allied party on one of the
British merchantmen was found in a state of considerable excitement.
He had been fired at from the darkness the night before, he said, and
missed by a hair. Interpreting this as a warning against wearing his
naval uniform ashore, he had dressed in civil attire that morning,
brought his uniform along in a parcel, and changed into it on board.
"You'd pity any one but a Hun for having to do a thing like that," was
the dry comment of one of the British members of the party when this
tale of woe was translated to him.
An instance of the unquenchable optimism of the German industrialist
regarding the eagerly awaited future when the seas and the markets of
the world are again open to him was furnished in the course of a visit
to the great Blohm and Voss yards, which occupy about the same position
on the Elbe as do those of John Brown or Fairfields on the Clyde,
or Harland and Wolff at Belfast. Several of the embargo ships were
undergoing repairs here, and in going over one of these it was pointed
out by Commodore Bevan that it ought to be ready to put to sea some days
inside the limit set by the Germans for the completion of reconditioning.
"It is quite true the ship will be in a state to make the voyage to
the Tyne by the time you say," replied Herr M----, the Director who
was showing the party round, "but it will take a number of days longer
to put it in the same state it was when placed under embargo. It would
be a short-sighted policy on our part to send a badly repaired ship
out of our yards at the present time, for it would be certain to react
seriously in the matter of future orders. You must bear in mind, sir,
that we have a world-wide reputation for thoroughness to maintain."
He appeared far from reassured when he was told that the condition he
sent the British ships home in would have no effect whatever upon his
future business with the rest of the world; moreover, he must have found
that the longer he pondered that plain statement the less comfort there
was to be extracted from it. It is astonishing how few Germans appear to
realize that there are other things besides workmanship and quality--to
say nothing of long credits, state subsidies and pushful salesmen--that
will profoundly affect the future of German trade.
The inspection of the eight interned vessels at Bremerhaven brought out
nothing of more than routine interest, but the visit to the great home
port of the North German Lloyd on the Weser, just as had the one to
that of the Hamburg-Amerika Line on the Elbe, offered an incomparable
opportunity to see at first hand the staggering blow which the war
had dealt to German shipping and--through shipping--to German foreign
trade. Although the fact that I had been attached for the moment to the
sub-commissions inspecting seaplane and Zeppelin stations prevented
my visiting Hamburg and Bremerhaven with the Shipping Board, an
illuminating glimpse of the latter was offered me during the passage of
the Weser in the course of the journey to Nordholz.
Although the day was overcast and there was some mistiness on the water,
one could still see far enough up and down stream during the passage
to note the effects of the complete stagnation which had settled from
the outbreak of the war upon this second of Germany's great maritime
ports. The name BREMERHAVEN had appeared in raised gilt letters
across the stern of every one of the hundreds of North German Lloyd
steamers, and from New York to Shanghai, from Sydney to Durban, one was
confronted with it in most of the ports of the world, but especially
those of the Far East and Australia. I had seen it on the black-hulled,
buff-funnelled freighters that were carrying Dutch goods from Ternate
to Batavia, Chinese goods from Tientsin to Foochow, Japanese goods
from Kobe to Nagasaki, British goods between Sandakan and Singapore.
The "Crossed Keys" house-flag was known throughout the East as the
symbol of that notorious German trade policy of heavy rate-cutting
until competition had been killed and then a forcing up of tariffs to
just under a figure which would be calculated to revive competition.
But while the Germans had plotted thus ruthlessly to strangle foreign
competition, between their own lines nothing of the kind was ever
allowed to go on. The Hamburg-Amerika and the Norddeutscher-Lloyd, with
three or four other German lines of secondary importance, had divided up
the world into "spheres" of trade, with no line encroaching upon that
of another except for certain inevitable "over-lapping" in passenger
traffic on the Mediterranean and North Atlantic routes.
The lines of the Norddeutscher-Lloyd were stretched like the tentacles
of an octopus over the Indian Ocean and the Eastern Pacific, and at the
outbreak of the war it was sucking trade from every British, French,
Dutch, and Scandinavian line that plied to the ports of Australia,
Malaysia, China, and the Philippines upon which it had fastened its
slimy grip. The "N.D.L." was more than a German steamship line; it
was Germany itself--Germany beginning to rivet down the edges of its
"places in the sun." It was Herr Heiniken, the president of this great
instrument of "Deutschland Ueber Alles," who, in Hongkong in 1911,
exclaimed to a diplomat with whom he was discussing the Kaiser's Agadir
bluff: "War! that, sir, is the one thing I want to avoid. What do we
want to spend money and men on war when--within ten years at our present
rate of progress--we can win everything that the most successful war
could possibly give us? War might be a short cut to German world-power;
and again, it might not. But hegemony by the trade route--provided only
we continue to enjoy the freedom we have today--is sure. Our ships and
merchants have already won half the battle, and victory is in sight if
they are only allowed to go on."
Herr Heiniken was a hard-headed, clear-seeing man, and one shudders to
think how much truth there was in the words quoted. But the slower, more
round-about "trade route" to world-power did not suit the hot-headed
Junkers, and they forced their country to attempt to reach by the
short-cut of war what was almost within the reach of their merchants
and shippers. And that day at Bremerhaven we saw one of the results.
There, sluddered down into the slime from which he rose, his tentacles
all either severed or drawn in, was the remains of the "N.D.L." octopus.
Miles and miles of what were once black-and-buff freighters and liners
were lying so deep in harbour silt that it would have taken a dredger
to get them out of their slips. The tangles of sagging, weed-fringed
mooring cables running over and about them--for all the world as though
they had been meshed in the web of a Gargantuan spider--accentuated the
helpless immobility of craft that had once flaunted the arrogant red,
white, and black bunting of the German merchant marine in the uttermost
corners of the Seven Seas.
That river full of rotting ships was more than quiet--it was _dead_.
The anchorage of the interned High Sea Fleet, off the inner entrance
to Gutter Sound in Scapa Flow, was the first cemetery I had seen of
the ships of the power whose ruler had proclaimed that its future
was upon the sea. Bremerhaven was another graveyard of that ambient
ambition. And the rusting hulks of the remains of the "N.D.L." fleet
was not all that was buried in the port of opulent Bremen. The ships
were only the tombstones. Deep in the mud beneath their keels was
sunk the crumpled framework of a plan which was a long way farther on
the way to consummation than most of Americans and Britons will ever
realize--Germany's scheme to attain world domination by trade. Germany
will, in time undoubtedly have another merchant marine, and she may even
begin striving before long toward world domination by any means, fair or
foul, that offers a chance of success. But there is a slight probability
that she will ever again hit upon any road that will take her so far
toward the goal of "_Deutschland Ueber Alles_" as did the "trade route,"
the way to which is now all but closed. There was the dankness of mould
in the wind that blew across the graveyard of the high ambitions that
lie buried beyond hope of resurrection in the mud beneath the weed-foul
bottoms of the ships of Bremerhaven.
The whole atmosphere of the stagnant waterfront was brooding and gloomy,
and as we drew near to the landing I was conscious of a pronounced
depression, for no man who loves the sea can remain unmoved at the sight
of neglected ships. To this mood the cheery chatter of a young American
Ensign, who had just sauntered out on deck after warming his toes at the
charcoal brazier in the tug's cabin, came as a welcome diversion.
"There's a lot of funny things chalked up on the walls around the
docks," he said, running his eyes over the signs along the front, "but
the one word that is written over the whole darn layout is 'Ichabod.'
'N.D.L.' is the only other to run 'one-two-three' with it. By the look
of things I take it that stands for 'No D----m Luck.'"
VII
THE BOMBING OF TONDERN
The German airship station at Tondern was by no means the largest of
the enemy naval stations, but its position gave it an importance not
measured by the number of its sheds or its airships.
Situated in Schleswig, not far from the Danish border, its ships were
available equally for reconnaissance in the North Sea or the Baltic,
including the Kattegat, and all the devious straits and passages
between Denmark and the Scandinavian Peninsula. In a way, with the
seaplane station at Sylt, it formed the first line of defence against
the ever increasing British mine-laying sorties in the North Sea and
Kattegat. The actual attacks against these mine-layers came to be left
more and more to the seaplanes, though, in the first years of the war,
considerable bomb-dropping was attempted here from Zeppelins. The
vulnerability of the airship to aeroplane attack--and, notably, the
destruction of a Zeppelin by a plane launched from the light cruiser
_Yarmouth_--put an end to their work in this _rôle_, and compelled them
to confine their activities entirely to reconnaissance. It was the
great effectiveness of the long observation flights from Tondern which
determined the R.N.A.S. to make a strong endeavour to put an end to the
menace by destroying the sheds. Besides greatly hampering the British
mine-laying program they were also credited with supplying the Germans
with invaluable information for both their surface raids and submarine
attacks on the Norwegian convoys.
The only way in which Tondern could be reached was by machines launched
from a carrier ship, and for this purpose the _Furious_, on account of
her great speed and size, was perhaps better adapted than even a ship
of the type of the _Argus_, in spite of the fact that the latter was
specially built for the work, while the former was converted from a
cruiser of the _Courageous_ class. The raid, as any attempt of the kind
must be, was prepared for some time in advance, and was only launched
when it appeared that all conditions were especially favourable for its
success. Probably the astonishing Admiralty intelligence service played
an important, perhaps a decisive, part.
There was one point which favoured a raid upon Tondern as compared
with an air attack upon one of the stations farther south. This was
its proximity to the Danish border, which offered an alternative way
of escape if return to the vicinity of the carrier ship should be
impracticable. This was fully reckoned with in planning the raid, for
it was well understood that the presence of numerous chaser squadrons
from the German coastal seaplane stations might effectually bar the way
back to the _Furious_ or her escorting destroyers. Of the raid from the
British standpoint I can tell little or no more than was revealed in the
bulletin issued by the Admiralty a few days after it took place. This
said, in effect, that a number of aeroplanes, launched from a carrier
ship, had carried out a raid upon the Zeppelin sheds at Tondern shortly
after daylight; that, in spite of the vigorous anti-aircraft fire
encountered, hits had been observed upon at least two of the sheds, and
that it was believed that any airships they contained must have been
destroyed; and that some of the pilots had been picked up at sea, while
others had landed safely in Denmark. Two or three were still unaccounted
for, and might have either been lost in the sea or been taken prisoner
by the enemy. This number was subsequently reduced to one, and he, it
was reckoned, must have sunk with his machine in the sea.
This was all the public were told of what was undoubtedly the most
successful raid of its kind ever carried out, except for the usual more
or less conflicting versions from Denmark and Holland. No one seemed to
know for certain whether any Zeppelins had been destroyed or not, and
if the Admiralty Intelligence Department knew, it kept its knowledge
to itself. The fact that the British mine-laying squadrons had, from
that time on, less to report of Zeppelin activity in the Skager Rak was
encouraging, however, and seemed to show that the Zeppelins were being
kept out of harm's way.
Under the armistice agreement the Allied Naval Commission had the right
of visiting any of the German naval air stations. This gave them an
opportunity to see at first hand what damage had been inflicted in
the Tondern raid. So one of the sub-commissions put this station upon
their itinerary. One officer in particular--he had directed the raiding
operations from the _Furious_--was especially anxious to go. But luck
was against him, for the destroyer in which he was visiting the Borkum
and Heligoland stations was delayed by fog, and he was too late to go
with the Tondern party.
[Illustration: FLOATING DOCK FOR LIFTING SUBMARINES IN KIEL HARBOR]
The efforts made by the Germans, first, to prevent this Tondern visit
being scheduled at all, and, after it was decided upon, so to delay
it that the party making it should only arrive after dark and thus
have limited opportunities for observation, were a revelation of Hun
psychology. "The Hun," said an officer of one of the air-station
parties on his return to the _Hercules_ one evening, "is one of the
most truthful individuals in the world--just as long as he knows you
are in a position to find out the truth anyway. But if he thinks he can
prevent your finding out the truth by lying, there seems to be no limit
to the lengths he will go." Then he went on to tell of how an unusually
affable and courteous young German flying officer, who had conducted
his party to Norderney two days previously, had taken every occasion to
point out how much trouble, and how profitless and uninteresting a visit
to Tondern would be. He said that the station was a long distance out
of the way, that reaching it would involve trips of some hours by both
train and destroyer, that it was not in a region under the control of
the Wilhelmshaven authorities, and that there was nothing to see anyway,
as the sheds had been dismantled before they were bombed, and that
there were no airships in them at the time they were destroyed. Pressed
on the latter point, he had reiterated the statement, adding that the
raid, though it was well planned and executed, had been a great waste of
effort. "It will take much time, and you will see nothing, nothing at
all, I assure you."
"When I told him," continued the British officer, "that we would go
ahead with the visit for sentimental reasons, if for no others, he
seemed a good deal upset, and this morning he did not turn up at all.
The commander who came in his stead told me quite frankly that there
were two Zeppelins destroyed at Tondern, and that he was to go in person
with the party to see, as he put it, that it was 'properly received.'
He had such an 'open-and-above-board' manner about everything that I'm
inclined to think there's some 'catch' in his plan. It's probably on the
score of time, or connections, or something of that kind. He says that,
between destroyer, launch, and train, it is an eight-hour journey; but I
have made up a schedule that will give us a good two hours of daylight
there if there is no slip up on the Huns' end of the arrangements. We
push off in the _Viceroy_ at seven in the morning, and ought to be at
Tondern by three. When we rejoin her again at Brunsbüttel's another
matter."
Just where the "slip up" was meant to come became evident the next
morning, when the German pilot was half an hour late in coming off to
the _Viceroy_. As the sixty-mile run to Brunsbüttel was to have been
covered at a rate of but fifteen miles an hour, a destroyer capable of
doing close to thirty-five had no difficulty in making up the lost time,
though once she was all but compelled to anchor on account of fog,
which closed down just before the outer Elbe lightship was picked up.
The railway station, close beside the gates of the Kiel Canal, was in
plain view from the deck of the _Viceroy_, but the delay in sending off
the promised tug to take us to the landing, with a further delay in the
starting of the waiting special, set back our departure from Brunsbüttel
an hour behind the time scheduled.
As all the trains previously put at the disposal of the Allied
Commission had been given the right of way over everything else on
the line, we had good reason to believe that this time might also be
made up in the course of the run across absolutely level country which
separated us from Tondern. It was little more than one hundred miles.
When, far from making up time, we continued to lose it--both by waits
at stations and by slow running between them--our mounting suspicions
that the Germans meant to keep us hanging about till after dark seemed
to be confirmed. A protest to the Korvettenkapitän conducting the party
brought only a shrug of the shoulders and the assertion that the bad
conditions of the track and the engine made greater speed too dangerous.
As there was no doubt that the engine was clanking and banging a good
deal, and that the bogey immediately under our compartment had at least
one "flat" wheel, about the only reply we could make to this was to
point out that the twelve-car train which had just passed us was doing
at least twice our speed.
"Ah! but that train had the good engine," was the naïve reply. It
hardly seemed worth while asking why our special had not also been
provided with a "good" engine. Some sort of directions were given to the
engineer, however, and there was sufficient acceleration of speed (at
the expense, it appeared, of cutting off the steam heating the car) to
bring us into Tondern station with something like three-quarters of an
hour of daylight still to the good. This was so contrary to the plans
of our hosts that the train was kept waiting in the station for fifteen
minutes on the pretext that the party of officers from the town who were
to accompany us had not yet arrived. The crowd on the platform, amongst
which Danish types predominated, seemed to be genuinely friendly, but a
couple of Red Cross girls who stepped forward to offer refreshments were
waved savagely back by an armed guard.
The ragged silhouettes of the bombed sheds were in plain sight, but a
mile or so distant, when (the German officers having arrived and taken
their places in a spare compartment) the train, with much wheezing and
clanking, started up again and ran slowly out on to the spur towards
the airship station. It would be but a few minutes more, we told
ourselves, and there would still be light enough to see the general
lay of things. The engine never increased its snail's-pace of three
miles an hour all the way, and when it came to a stop at last, close
beside a towering wall of steel, there was barely light enough to show
the top of the wall against the dusky, low-hanging clouds of the early
twilight. Our conductor had maintained his schedule to the minute. When
we alighted he was voluble in his explanation of how the track of the
spur was in such a state of disrepair that a greater speed would have
been attended by the risk of derailment. There was nothing that we could
say to refute this specious protestation, until, on our return journey
an hour or two later, the engine (which had been making steam in the
interim) whisked the two cars over that same spur at the giddy rate of
twenty miles an hour--a good six times as fast as we had come.