"To lay mines along the enemy-shores and then make a cruiser-campaign."
Such, briefly, were my orders when I was appointed commander of S. M.
S. _Moewe_ at the end of 1915.
It is easy to imagine my pride and elation.
To lay mines and injure the enemy's sea-borne trade! Neither of these
duties was new to the German Navy.
The clamorous complaints in the daily newspapers, voicing the
indignation of England, France, and Italy concerning the heavy losses
sustained by their mercantile navy and cruisers, as well as against our
interference with their over-sea connections, were sufficient testimony
to the activity of our U-boats in the North Sea, the Irish Sea, the
Mediterranean, and the Black Sea.
It fell to my share, however, to take a German cruiser successfully
into the far world-sea, where, since the exploits of the _Karlsruhe_,
the _Dresden_, the _Emden_, the _Ayesha_, and the auxiliary cruisers
_Prince Eitel Friedrich_ and _Kronprinz_ the German flag had not dared
to show itself owing to the overwhelming superiority of the enemy.
We Germans were sick of hearing England boast that her fleet had driven
us from the highways of the ocean, and that her navy safeguarded the
routes between Europe and the United States, Africa, and Australia.
When I got my orders, I realized fully that if my plans were to
succeed, we must not count on daring and good luck alone, but that
cunning must make up for what we lacked in strength.
Shortly before Christmas we made a few brief trial-trips. Then we
busied ourselves with the final and not least important of our
preparations--an attempt to give the _Moewe_ the aspect of an
inoffensive merchant vessel.
Beaming with pleasant anticipations, the crew set to work, and to
such good purpose did they labor that within a few hours the _Moewe_,
under her fresh coating of paint, was--outwardly at least--transformed
into an ordinary merchantman. Not even the most suspicious English
man-of-war would ever imagine for a moment what a dangerous cargo she
carried. But all this labor of love was wasted. A heavy storm and a
deluge of rain forced us to suspend our work, and the next morning the
_Moewe_ was in a sorry plight. The fresh paint had run in streaks, and
made her look like a marine zebra. Fortunately, the weather remained
dry the night before we were to start. The painting was done again, and
the work was accomplished, this time with notable success, for as a
result of the damp first layer of paint the final coating did not look
too aggressively new.
We raised anchor and steamed out of port in a fog. Soon we exchanged
farewell greetings with the German outpost boats, and, shortly after,
reached the zone where at any moment we might run against an English
destroyer or submarine. Everyone on board was strung up to the highest
pitch. What would the next moment bring us? I recalled the remark of a
friend who, on hearing of my appointment, asked: "After all, what do
you expect to do? The very first day you will be captured!" From the
moment we were in the open sea we were prepared for battle, and anyone
who had attacked us, small or big, would soon have discovered that the
_Moewe_ was not quite so peaceful and tame as she looked. Nevertheless,
I must admit that too premature an encounter would have been fatal to
our object.
As luck would have it, the weather favored us; a thick fog encompassed
us, and that first night was as dark as we could have wished.
I told the crew briefly what was expected from them, and pleasure
showed in the face of every man when he heard we were out against
England, for to wipe out the hated English foe is the dearest wish of
every German sailorman.
At dawn, after successful evading all notice, we were in sight of
Norway's snow-capped mountains, and we continued our route with a
favorable wind.
The day was exceptionally fine, and the fact that the first
difficulties had been so easily overcome filled me with confidence in
the future. It depended now entirely upon me to lead my faithful crew
and our good ship to the desired goal and injure the enemy wherever we
might find him.
The last day of the old year turned out to be the hardest we had
experienced hitherto. To get as close as possible to the English
shores was our aim, but an angry west wind continually obstructed us
and interrupted our course. I soon got sick of waiting and preferred
to run the risk of fighting the wind. I had to reckon, however, with
a specially furious sea. Drenched to the skin, I finally gave up the
struggle, and allowed the ship to drift for hours.
In the afternoon the wind abated, and it was once more possible to take
a southerly course.
At last, when the lead gave twenty-five fathoms, a powerful coast-light
suddenly shed its radiance upon us. We now knew all we wanted to know,
and we turned back, with the intention of steering straight for this
spot on the following day.
Meanwhile, the new year had come in, minus the usual bell-ringing and
songs! At seven o'clock in the morning I entered my cabin drenched and
frozen.
* * * * *
The New Year began well.
We lay so quietly under the mild, westerly wind that, having still
a couple of hours before beginning our mine-laying, we set to work
painting the sides of the vessel, badly damaged by the weather.
Then, in broad daylight, we slowly steered for the English coast.