she instigated against us the commercial blockade and hunger-war; she
obliged neutrals to follow a prescribed route; and, by subjecting
their vessels to search, she prevented them from selling us any of
their wares. In this manner, she sought to redeem herself from the
paralysis we had brought on her fleet, and her unscrupulous treatment
of the right of nations and her interpretation of the so-called
"freedom of the seas" are only too well known.
We retaliated on February 4, 1915, by prescribing a certain danger
zone, which extended around Great Britain and Ireland and along the
north coast of France. By this interdict, public opinion was
enlightened as to the part our U-boats were going to perform in this
new commercial warfare, a part, I must admit, that few people had
anticipated before the commencement of hostilities. Of course, new
demands were to be made upon us; we should have to make long undersea
trips, and remain for some time in the enemy's waters, after which we
should have to return unperceived. The English called it German
bluff, but their tone soon changed after we had made our first raid in
the heart of the Irish Channel, and few of them now ventured abroad
except when forced by the most imperative obligations.
At the end of October, 1914, the first English steamer "Glitra" was
sunk off the Norwegian coast. It carried a cargo of sewing machines,
whisky, and steel from Leith. The captain was wise enough to stop at
the first signal of the commander of the U-boat, and he thereby saved
the lives of his crew, who escaped with their belongings after the
steamer was peacefully sunk. If others later had likewise followed his
example, innocent passengers and crew would not have been drowned; and
after all, people are fond of their own lives; but these English
captains were following the orders of their Government to save their
ships through flight. The English authorities even went so far as to
inaugurate a sharp-shooting system at sea by offering a reward to any
captain who rammed or destroyed a German submarine, although the
latter could only obey this command at the risk of their lives; but
what cared the rulers in England for the existence of men belonging to
the lower classes of the Nation? They offered tempting rewards for
these exploits in the shape of gold watches, and bribed the captains
of the merchant marine with the promise of being raised to the rank of
officers in the Reserve. Therefore, the British newspapers were filled
with the account of the destruction of German U-boats, and of the
generous rewards given for these fine deeds. It was jolly for us on
our return to port to read the record of our own doom, and scarcely
would there be a submarine afloat if these records had been true.
I should like to tell a short story in connection with these
assertions of English prowess. One of their small steamers had
actually contrived in misty weather to ram the turret of one of our
submarines while it was in the act of submerging. The English captain
was loudly praised in all the newspapers and received the promised
rewards for having sunk, as he declared, a German U-boat; he had
distinctly felt, he said, the shock of the collision. His statement
was certainly accurate, for the submarine was also conscious of the
shock, but it was fortunately followed with no evil results, and our
commander had the joyful surprise, shortly afterwards, when he
emerged, to find the blade of the foe's propeller stuck in the wall of
the turret, whose excellent material had preserved it from serious
injury. We happily hope that the German Empire will never run so short
of bronze that it will be obliged to appropriate, for the melting pot,
this fine propeller blade, which is one of the many interesting
trophies preserved in our Submarine Museum.
V
OUR OWN PART IN THE COMMERCIAL WAR AND OUR FIRST CAPTURED STEAMER
As we have said above, our war against the merchant marine of the
Allied Nations began in February, 1915, throughout the war zone
established around the English and French coasts. Day after day, the
number increased of steamers and sail boats that we had sunk, and
commercial relations between all countries were seriously menaced. The
English were forced to believe in our threats and even the shipping
trade of the neutrals had greatly diminished. The mighty British fleet
no longer dared to patrol the seas, and the merchantmen were told to
look out for themselves and were even armed for the purpose.
While the winter lasted, there was not much for us to do, and we
awaited fine weather with lively impatience. During this period, our
victorious armies had occupied Belgium and Serbia, and conquered the
Russian girdle of fortifications. The subsequent participation of
Italy produced but little impression on the fortunate current of
events, whereas Turkey's entrance at our side in the war, opened a new
field of operation for our U-boats in the Mediterranean.
At last, I, myself, was ordered to prepare for a long voyage, which I
welcomed most joyfully after several months of comparative inaction.
We were to remain in the enemy's waters for several weeks, which, of
course, involved the most elaborate preparations. Every portion of
the boat was again minutely inspected, every machine repaired and
thoroughly tested. Like a well-groomed horse we must be in perfect
condition for the coming race. Each man in the crew holds a
responsible position and knows that the slightest neglect endangers
the welfare of the whole boat. The commander must be certain that
everything is completed according to the highest standard. The boat is
frequently submerged and performs various exercises underseas, while
it is still safe in the friendly waters off our own coast.
We are always abundantly provisioned; for the thirty men must be given
the most nourishing food to be fit for their arduous tasks. I have
often laughed to see the quantity of provisions placed on deck,--for
the dealers, of course, are never allowed to penetrate the inner
shrine of the boat,--and yet we have often returned from a long cruise
because our food was coming to an end. Every available corner and
space is filled with provisions. The cook--a sailor specially trained
for the job--must hunt below in every conceivable place for his
vegetables and meats. The latter are stored in the coolest quarters,
next to the munitions. The sausages are put close to the red grenades,
the butter lies beneath one of the sailor's bunks, and the salt and
spice have been known to stray into the commander's cabin, below his
berth.
When everything is in readiness, the crew is given a short leave on
land, to go and take the much coveted hot bath. This is the most
important ceremony before and after a cruise, especially when the men
return, for when they have remained unwashed for weeks, soaked with
machine oil, and saturated with salt spray, their first thought is--a
hot bath. At sea, we must be very sparing of our fresh-water supply,
and its use for washing must be carefully restricted.
The commander usually spends the eve of his departure in the circle of
his comrades, but it is a solemn moment for him as soon as he sails
from his native shore. He becomes responsible for every action which
is taken, and for many weeks no orders reach him from his superiors.
He is unable to ask any one's advice, or to consult with his
inferiors, and he stands alone in the solitude of his higher rank.
Even the common sailor is conscious of the seriousness of the task
ahead and of the adventures which may occur below seas. No loud
farewells, no jolly hand, no beckoning girls are there to bid us
Godspeed. Quietly and silently do we take our departure. Neither wife
nor child, nor our nearest and dearest, know whither we go, if we
remain in home waters, or if we go forth to encounter the foe. We can
bid no one farewell. It is through the absence of news that they know
that we have gone, and no one is aware, except the special high
officer in this department of the Admiralty who gives the commander
his orders, on what errand we are bound or when we shall return, for
the slightest indiscretion might forfeit the success of our mission.
Before dawn, on the day of our departure, the last pieces of equipment
and of armament are put on board, and the machinery is once more
tested; then, at the appointed hour, the chief engineer informs the
commander that everything is ready. A shrill whistle bids the crew
cast loose the moorings, and at the sound of the signal bell the boat
begins to move. As we glide rapidly out of port, we exchange by mutual
signs a few last greetings with our less favored comrades on the decks
of the ships we leave behind, who no doubt also long to go forth and
meet the enemy.
The land begins to disappear in the distance, and as we gaze at the
bobbing buoys that vanish in our wake, we hope that after a successful
journey they will again be our guides as we return to our dear German
homes. After gliding along smoothly at first, we soon feel the boat
tossing among the bigger waves; but we laugh, as they heave and dip
around us, for we know everything is shipshape on board, and that they
can do us no harm. The wild seas are bearing us onward towards the
hated foe, and after all--in the end they lull so peacefully to sleep
the sailor in his eternal rest.
In this manner, on a fine March morning, we steered our course to the
English coast, to take an active part in the commercial war. Gently
the waves splashed around the prow and glided over the lower deck. Our
duty was to examine every merchantman we met with the object of
destroying those of the enemy. The essential thing was to ascertain
the nationality of the ships we stopped. On the following morning, we
were given several opportunities to fulfill our task.
It is well known that the English merchantmen were ordered by their
Government to fly a neutral flag, so as to avoid being captured by our
warships. We all remember how, on one of her earlier trips through the
war zone, the gigantic "Lusitania" received a wireless message to
conceal the Union Jack and to fly the Stars and Stripes of the United
States, but destiny after all overtook her at a later date.
All of us U-boat commanders were told not to trust to the nationality
of any flag we saw, and to stop every steamer on our path and to
examine her papers thoroughly. Even these might be falsified, and we
must therefore judge for ourselves, according to the appearance of
the crew and the way in which the ship was built, whether she were in
reality a neutral. Of course many neutrals had to suffer from the
deceptions practiced by the English, and although their colors were
painted on their sides and they were lighted at night by electricity,
yet this device could also be copied. Therefore, we were obliged to
detain and examine all the ships we encountered, greatly to the
inconvenience of the innocent ones.
I will describe the manner in which a warship undertakes the search of
a merchantman: Through flag signals the merchantman is bidden to stop
immediately; if he does not obey, the warship makes his orders more
imperative by firing blank shot as a warning. If then the merchantman
tries to escape, the warship is justified in hitting the runaway. On
the other hand, if the steamer or sailboat obeys the summons, then the
warship puts out a boat with an armed prize crew and an officer to
look over the ship's papers. These consist in certificates of
nationality, of the sailing port, and port of destination, and they
contain a bill of lading as to the nature of the cargo, also the names
of the crew and a passenger list if it is a passenger steamer. If the
ship is a neutral and her papers are satisfactory, she is allowed to
proceed, whereas an enemy's ship is either captured or sunk. If a
neutral ship carries contraband of war, this is either confiscated or
destroyed, but if it exceeds half the total cargo, then this ship is
also condemned.
It is nearly impossible for a submarine to send a prize crew on board
a big ship, therefore neutral States have given their captains the
order to go in a ship's boat and deliver their papers themselves on
board the submarine; but they often annoyed us by a long parley and
delay, and it was always with a feeling of disappointment that we were
obliged to leave inactive our cannons and torpedoes, the crew sadly
exclaiming, "After all, they were only neutrals!"
One sunny afternoon, we were in the act of examining the papers of a
Dutch steamer that we had stopped in the neighborhood of the Meuse
Lightship, when we perceived on the horizon another steamer coming
rapidly towards us, and we judged by its outline that it was of
English construction. The steamer we were examining proved to be
unobjectionable in every respect, and sailing only between neutral
ports, so we dismissed it, and just as it was departing, the English
steamer, evidently apprehending our presence, turned about in great
haste in hope to escape from us, and steered with full steam ahead
towards the English shores, to seek the protection of the ships on the
watch patroling the English coast.
The English captain well knew what fate awaited him if he fell into
the hands of a wicked German U-boat. Mighty clouds of smoke rose from
her funnels, giving evidence of the active endeavors of the stokers in
the boiler-room to bring the engines up to their highest speed, and
before we had time to give the signal to stop, the steamer was in
flight.
Meanwhile we had also put on all steam in pursuit, and drove our
engines to their utmost capacity. The English ship was going at a
great pace, and we had many knots to cover before we could catch up
with her to impose our commands, for she paid no heed to the
international flag-signal we had hoisted--"Stop at once or we
fire!"--and she was striving her uttermost to reach a zone of safety.
Our prow plunged into the surging seas, and showered boat and crew
alike with silvery, sparkling foam. The engines were being urged to
their greatest power, and the whir of the propeller proved that below,
at the motor valves, each man was doing his very best. Anxiously, we
measured the distance that still separated us from our prey. Was it
diminishing? Or would they get away from us before our guns could take
effect? Joyfully we saw the interval lessening between us, and before
long our first warning shot, across her bow, raised a high,
threatening column of water. But still the Englishman hoped to escape
from us, and the thick smoke belching from the funnels showed that the
stokers were shoveling more and more coal into the glowing furnace;
they well knew what risk they had to run.
Even after two well-aimed shots were discharged from the steel mouths
of our cannons, right and left on either side of the fugitive, which
must have warned the captain that the next shot would undoubtedly
strike the stern, he was still resolved neither to stop nor surrender.
Nothing now remained for us but to use our last means to enforce our
will. With a whistling sound, a shell flew from the muzzle of our
cannon and a few seconds later fell with a loud crash in a cloud of
smoke on the rear deck of the steamer. This produced the desired
effect.
Immediately the steamer stopped and informed us by three quick blasts
from the steam whistle (the international signal) that the engines
would be reversed and the ship stopped. The captain had given up his
wild race.
Huge white clouds from the uselessly accumulated steam rose from the
funnels, and to our signal, "Abandon the ship at once," the Englishman
replied with a heavy heart by hoisting a white and red striped pennon,
the preconcerted international sign that our order had been understood
and was being obeyed.
This small striped pennon has a deep significance: it means that a
captain accepts this most painful necessity knowing that his dear old
boat will soon lie at the bottom of the sea; truly a difficult
decision for the captain of a proud ship to make. The crew were by
this time reconciled to their fate and, as we drew near to parley with
the captain, the life boats were launched; the men tossed in their
belongings and, jumping in, took their places at the oars. It need
hardly be said that we, on the other hand, were pleased with our
capture. I have often shaken hands with the gunner who had fired the
last deadly shot, for we waste no emotion over our adversary's fate.
With every enemy's ship sent to the bottom, one hope of the hated foe
is annihilated. We simply pay off our account against their criminal
wish to starve all our people, our women, and our children, as they
are unable to beat us in open fight with polished steel. Ought we not
therefore to rejoice in our justifiable satisfaction?
After the crew had left in two boats the blazing hull of the
"Leuwarden" of Harwich, a well-directed shot was aimed at the water
line. Mighty jets of water poured into the rear storeroom, and the
heavy listing of the ship showed that her last hour had struck. We
beckoned to the captain to row up beside us and deliver his papers; he
stepped silently on board, and we exchanged salutes. As I saw that the
two boat-loads of twenty-five men were lying off within hearing, on
either side of us, I took this opportunity to admonish the captain
about his foolhardy attempt to escape, and how he thereby had
endangered the lives of his crew. The latter, realizing the justice of
my remarks, thanked us for having saved them by respectfully lifting
their caps. The captain awkwardly excused himself by saying he had
simply hoped to get away.
I then notified these people whom we had saved that we would take them
in tow to the Meuse Lightship; at this, the fine-looking old captain
realized to what useless dangers he had exposed his men, and what
cause he had to be grateful to us. With tears in his eyes, he seized
my hand and murmured his thanks. I willingly took his outstretched
hand.... At that instant a Dutch pilot steamboat, which had been
attracted to the spot by the sound of firing, hove in sight, and I
committed the Englishmen to its care. We all desired, before departing
in opposite directions, to witness the final sinking of the steamer,
for apparently the English also wanted to see the last of their fine
ship, and we awaited the great moment in silence.
We had not long to wait. The stern of the ship sank deeper and deeper,
whereas the bow rose sharply in the air, till at last with a loud
gurgle the whole steamer was drawn down, and the waters bubbled and
roared over the sunken wreck. There was now one less fine ship of the
English merchant marine afloat on the ocean!
We had all seen enough, and each one went his way. Our course was
pointed westward towards new endeavors, while the Dutchman steered for
the nearest port in order to land the shipwrecked crew. I think it was
our English friends who waved a friendly farewell from the deck of the
pilot steamboat in grateful recognition for our having saved their
lives, although they may not actually have wished us "_aufwiedersehn_."
We read in the Dutch papers a few days later an accurate description
of the sinking of the "Leuwarden," and the English captain was fain to
acknowledge how well we had treated him; every captain of an English
steamer might have been treated in like manner had not the English
Government wished it otherwise.
VI
THE CAPTURE OF TWO PRIZE STEAMERS
The next day an opportunity offered itself to us which opened to
submarines a new field of activity in the commercial war. It was a
gray, misty morning, the sea was becalmed, and over the still waters a
heavy vapor hung low like a veil before the rising sun. But little
could be seen, and we had to keep a sharper lookout than usual to
avoid running unawares into a hostile ship, and we also had to be
ready for a sudden submersion. We strained all the more an attentive
ear to every sound; for it is well known that in a fog, during a calm,
we sailors can perceive the most distant noise that comes over the
water. In time of peace fog horns and whistles give warning of any
approaching vessel, but in time of war, on the contrary, no vessel
wishes to betray its presence. It is essential for us to have two men
down below, at listening posts, with their ears glued to the sides of
the boat, to catch the throbbing of a propeller, or the rush of waves
dashing against the prow of a ship, or any suspicious vibrations, for
these noises are easily discernible under sea, water being an
excellent sound conductor.
On this March morning we were all keenly intent on the approach of
some ship; many times already as we stood on the bridge we had been
deceived by some unreal vision or some delusive sound; our
overstrained nerves transformed our too lively fancy into seeming
reality; and in a thick fog objects are strangely magnified and
distorted: a floating board may assume the shape of a boat, or a motor
launch be taken for a steamer.
I remember a little story about a man-of-war seeking to enter a harbor
in a heavy fog; every one on board was looking in vain for a buoy to
indicate the channel when the captain himself called out, "It is for
me then to point out the buoy; there it is!" but as they drew near,
the buoy floating on the water spread but a pair of wings and flew
away in the shape of a gull, and many a gull in a fog may have
deceived other experienced seamen.
But to return to our own adventures on this misty morning; we not only
saw gulls rising from the sea, and boards floating on the water, but
we also encountered English mines adrift, which had parted from their
moorings, and to these we thought it safer to give a wide berth. At
last the fog lifted, and we discovered in the distance, a few knots
away, a steamer; we immediately went in pursuit. Rapidly it steamed
ahead, but we caught up with it, and found it belonged to the
Dutch-Batavian Line, but as it was steering for the English coast,
towards the mouth of the Thames, we took for granted it carried a
contraband cargo. We signaled for it to stop, but the steamer refused
to obey our command and increased its speed. Having ascertained that
we could easily overtake it, we spared our shot, which must be
carefully preserved for more useful purposes. After a chase which
lasted about three quarters of an hour only a thousand meters
remained between us. The Dutch captain wisely gave up a further
attempt to escape, and awaited our orders. In compliance with my
signal he sent his first officer in a boat with the ship's papers.
While we lay alongside the steamer, gently rocking to and fro, the
crew and passengers flocked on deck to gaze at us with wondering eyes,
and we in return tried to discover to what nationality they belonged.
On reading the papers the officer handed me, I saw the steamer was the
"Batavian IV," destined for London, carrying a cargo of provisions,
which is contraband of war. I had to make a rapid decision as to the
fate of the steamer, and I resolved to bring the "Batavian" into one
of the Belgian ports now in our possession. No U-boat had ever
attempted such a feat before, but why not try? Of course we had to
cover a long distance with the imminent threat of being overtaken by
English warships, but if we did succeed, it was a very fine catch, and
after all,--nothing venture, nothing have. Besides the misty weather
was in our favor, and it would only take a few hours to reach the
protection of our batteries on the Flemish coast.
[Illustration: THE START: TAKING IN OIL FROM HER TENDER
THE CHASE: FOLLOWING IN THE WAKE OF A DUTCH STEAMER
OVERHAULING HER PREY: ROUNDING THE BOW OF THE BATAVIER IV
THE SUMMONS TO SURRENDER: CALLING UPON THE STEAMER TO HEAVE TO
ABOUT TO BOARD THE PRIZE: THE PILOT LEAVING THE TENDER FOR THE
STEAMER
THE TRIUMPH: THE SUBMARINE LEADING THE WAY THROUGH MINE-FIELDS
INTO ZEEBRÜGGE
VON FORSTNER'S SUBMARINE (U 28) IN ACTION IN THE NORTH SEA
A Series of Photographs taken from the Deck of One of her
Victims]
The Dutch officer was notified that a prize crew would be at once sent
on board his steamer to conduct it to the port of Zeebrugge. He opened
wondering eyes, but made no protest, for he was fully aware of our
cannons turned on his ship and of the loaded pistols of our crew. The
crew and passengers on board the Dutchman were no less astounded when
our prize command, consisting of one officer and one sailor, climbed
up on deck. I could not well dispense, myself, with more men, and in
case my prize was released by the English, it would be better they had
so few prisoners of ours to take.