Title: The Journal of Submarine Commander von Forstner
Author: Forstner, Georg-Günther, Freiherr von, 1882-1940
Language: English
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THE JOURNAL OF SUBMARINE COMMANDER VON FORSTNER

    [Illustration: _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
    PASSENGERS AND CREW LEAVING A SINKING LINER TORPEDOED BY A
    GERMAN SUBMARINE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN]



THE JOURNAL OF
SUBMARINE COMMANDER
VON FORSTNER

TRANSLATED BY
MRS. RUSSELL CODMAN

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
JOHN HAYS HAMMOND, JR.

[Illustration]

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1917



COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY JOHN HAYS HAMMOND, JR. AND ANNA CRAFTS CODMAN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Published November 1917_



CONTENTS


FOREWORD BY THE TRANSLATOR                                    vii

INTRODUCTION BY JOHN HAYS HAMMOND, JR.: THE CHALLENGE TO
NAVAL SUPREMACY                                                xi

   I. ORDERED TO COMMAND A SUBMARINE                            1

  II. BREATHING AND LIVING CONDITIONS UNDER WATER               6

 III. SUBMERSION AND TORPEDO FIRE                              17

  IV. MOBILIZATION AND THE BEGINNING OF THE COMMERCIAL WAR     39

   V. OUR OWN PART IN THE COMMERCIAL WAR AND OUR FIRST
      CAPTURED STEAMER                                         53

  VI. THE CAPTURE OF TWO PRIZE STEAMERS                        74

 VII. OFF THE COAST OF ENGLAND                                 97

VIII. THE METHOD OF SINKING AND RAISING SHIPS                 122



ILLUSTRATIONS


PASSENGERS AND CREW LEAVING A SINKING LINER
TORPEDOED BY A GERMAN SUBMARINE IN THE
MEDITERRANEAN                                      _Frontispiece_

INTERIOR OF A SUBMARINE                                      xliv

A TORPEDOED SCHOONER                                           36

GERMAN SUBMARINES U 13, U 5, U 11, U 3, AND U 16 IN KIEL
HARBOR                                                         40

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                                                        78
  From the London _Graphic_, March 27, 1915

LIFEBOAT LEAVING THE SINKING P. AND O. LINER ARABIA            98

BRITISH HOSPITAL SHIP GLOUCESTER CASTLE, SHOWING RED CROSS
ON BOW, SUNK IN THE ENGLISH CHANNEL BY A GERMAN SUBMARINE     126



FOREWORD


The following pages form an abridged translation of a book published
in 1916 by Freiherrn von Forstner, commander of the first German
U-boat. It was written with the somewhat careless haste of a man who
took advantage of disconnected moments of leisure, and these moments
were evidently subject to abrupt and prolonged interruptions. Many
repetitions and trivial incidents have been omitted in this
translation; but, in order to express the personality of the Author,
the rendering has been as literal as possible, and it shows the
strange mixture of sentimentality and ferocity peculiar to the
psychology of the Germans.

Part of the book gives a technical description,--not so much of the
construction of a submarine as of the nature of its activities,--which
presents us an unusual opportunity to glean a few valuable facts from
this personal and intimate account of a German U-boat. We are inclined
to a certain grim humor in borrowing the candid information given to
us Americans so unconsciously by Freiherrn von Forstner, for he could
hardly suppose it would fall into the hands of those who would join
the fighting ranks of the _hated enemy_, as, in his bitter animosity,
he invariably calls the English whenever he refers to them.

Several chapters in this book are simple narratives of the commander's
own adventures during the present naval warfare waged against
commerce. His attempts at a lighter vein often provoke a smile at the
quality of his wit, but he is not lacking in fine and manly virtues.
He is a loyal comrade; a good officer concerned for the welfare of his
crew. He is even kindly to his captives when he finds they are docile
victims. He is also willing to credit his adversary with pluck and
courage. He is never sparing of his own person, and shows admirable
endurance under pressure of intense work and great responsibility. He
is full of enthusiastic love for his profession, and in describing a
storm at sea his rather monotonous style of writing suddenly rises to
eloquence. But in his exalted devotion to the Almighty War Lord, and
to the Fatherland, he openly reveals his fanatical joy in the
nefarious work he has to perform.

It is difficult to realize that this ardent worship of detail, and
this marvelous efficiency in the conservation of every resource, are
applied to a weapon of destruction which directs its indiscriminate
attacks against women and children, hospital transports, and relief
ships. Nothing at the present day has aroused such fear as this
invisible enemy, nor has anything outraged the civilized world like
the tragedies caused by the German submarines.

This small volume may offer new suggestions to those familiar with the
science of submarine construction, and it may also shed a little
light, even for lay readers, on a subject which for the last three
years has taken a preëminent place in the history of the War.



INTRODUCTION

THE CHALLENGE TO NAVAL SUPREMACY


I

In a letter to William Pitt, of January 6, 1806, relating to his
invention of a submersible boat, Robert Fulton wrote prophetically,
"Now, in this business, I will not disguise that I have full
confidence in the power which I possess, which is no less than to be
the means, should I think proper, of giving to the world a system
which must of necessity sweep all military marines from the ocean, by
giving the weaker maritime powers advantages over the stronger, which
the stronger cannot prevent."

It is interesting to note that, about a hundred years later,
Vice-Admiral Fournier of the French Navy stated before a Parliamentary
committee of investigation that, if France had possessed a sufficient
number of submersibles, and had disposed them strategically about her
coasts and the coasts of her possessions, these vessels could have
controlled the trade routes of the world. He said also that the
fighting value of a sufficient number of submersibles would
reëstablish the balance of power between England and France.

The history of naval warfare during the last few months has confirmed
the opinions of these two authorities, although in a manner which they
in no way anticipated.

Direct comparison is the usual method by which the human mind
estimates values. We would measure the strength of two men by pitting
them against each other in physical encounter; in the same way, we are
prone to measure the combative effect of weapons by pitting them in
conflict against other weapons. But modern warfare is of so complex a
nature that direct comparisons fail, and only a careful analysis of
military experience determines the potentiality of a weapon and its
influence on warfare. Robert Fulton and Admiral Fournier both
indicated that they believed in the submersible's supremacy in actual
encounter with capital ships. The war, so far, has shown that, in
action between fleets, the submersible has played a negative part. In
the Jutland Bank battle, the submersible, handicapped in speed and
eyesight, took as active a part, as a Jack Tar humorously put it, "as
a turtle might in a cat fight." Not even under the extraordinary
conditions of the bombardment in the Dardanelles, when the
circumstances were such as lent themselves strikingly to submarine
attack, did these vessels score against the fleet in action.[1]

It is easy to understand why the submersible did not take a vital part
in any of the major naval actions. In the naval battle of to-day we
have a number of very high-speed armored craft fighting against one
another over ranges extending up to 17,000 yards. There is a constant
evolution in the position of the ships which it is impossible to
follow from the low point of vantage of a periscope, for the
different formations of ships mean nothing to the submersible
commander. He is so placed that his range of vision is extremely
limited, and, on account of the low speed of his boat while submerged,
he can operate over only a very limited area of water while the other
vessels are moving many miles. Then, too, he is extremely vulnerable
to the effect of enemy shells and to the ramming of enemy ships. Under
these conditions the submersible commander is more or less forced to a
policy of lying ambushed to surprise his enemy. It is said that the
"Lusitania" was decoyed into a nest of submersibles. There was but
little chance of torpedoing her in any other way. There is also the
statement that Admiral Beatty passed with his battle-cruisers through
a flotilla of enemy submersibles without being touched.

Submersibles cannot attack their target in definite formations as do
surface vessels, and therefore they cannot operate in numbers with the
same effectiveness as do the latter. They must maneuver more or less
singly, and at random. Being limited to the torpedo, which, when they
are submerged, is their sole weapon of attack, they have an uncertain
means of striking their armed enemy. The eccentricities of the
automobile torpedo are well known; but, even eliminating the fact that
this missile is unreliable, the important question of accuracy in the
estimate of range and speed which the submersible commander has to
make before firing the torpedo must be considered. There is usually a
large percentage of error in his calculations unless the submersible
is extremely close to its target. Realizing these limitations, the
German submersibles are equipped with small torpedoes, which are
generally fired at ranges not exceeding eight hundred to two thousand
yards. The necessity of approaching the target so closely is, of
course, a tremendous handicap in the general operation of these boats.
In view of these facts, it is not surprising that the submersible
should not have been able to sweep the capital ship from the seas, as
was predicted by certain experts before the war.


II

Admiral Sir Cyprian Bridge regards the functions of defense by a navy
as divisible into three main classifications. He says, "The
above-mentioned three divisions are called in common speech, coast
defense, colonial defense, and defense of commerce." From this
classification we are given a hint as to what a sailor means by "naval
supremacy," "freedom of the seas," and other terms so misused that
to-day they mean nothing. "Coast defense" means defense against
invasion; "colonial defense" means the safeguarding of distant
possessions against enemy forces; the "defense of commerce" means such
supremacy on the seas as will insure absolute safety of the mercantile
marine from enemy commerce-destroyers.

To-day every great nation is waging a trade war. The industrial
competition of peace is as keen as the competition of war. All the
great Powers realized years ago that, to gain and keep their "place in
the sun," it was necessary for them to construct navies that would
insure to them a certain control of the seas for the protection of
their commerce. In this way began the abnormal naval construction in
which the Powers have vied with one another for supremacy.

A simple way of looking at the question, what constitutes the power of
a fleet, is to consider the warship as merely a floating gun-platform.
Even though this floating platform is the most complex piece of
mechanism that was ever contrived by man, nevertheless its general
function is simple. The war has given us enough experience to convince
us that the backbone of a navy is, after all, the heavily armored
ship of moderately high speed, carrying a very heavy armament. This
floating gun-platform is the structure best fitted to carry large guns
into battle, and to withstand the terrific punishment of the enemy's
fire.

The battleship is to-day, notwithstanding the development of other
types, queen of the seas. It is therefore not difficult to estimate
the relative power of the fleets of different nations. In fact, a
purely engineering estimate of this kind can be made, and the
respective ranks of the world's naval powers ascertained. Germany has
shown all through the war that she thoroughly appreciated the British
naval supremacy. Her fleet has ventured little more than sporadic
operations from the well-fortified bases behind Heligoland. It was
probably the pressure of public opinion, and not the expectation
that she would achieve anything of military advantage, that forced her
to send her high-sea fleet into conflict with the British squadrons
off Jutland.

If one should examine the course of this battle, which has been
represented by lines graphically showing the paths of the British and
German fleets, one could easily see how the British imposed their will
upon the Germans in every turn that these lines make. It reminds one
very much of the herding of sheep, for the German fleet was literally
herded on May 31, 1916, from 5:36 in the afternoon until 9 o'clock
that night. Admiral von Scheer, however, fought the only action which
it was possible for him to fight. It was a losing action, and one
which he knew, from a purely mathematical consideration, could not be
successful.

Through the very definiteness of this understanding of what
constitutes naval strength, Great Britain's navy until recently has
remained a great potential force, becoming dynamic for only a few
hours at Jutland, after which it returned to that mysterious northern
base whence it seems to dominate the seas. Because of the potentiality
of these hidden warships, thousands of vessels have traversed the
ocean, freighted with countless tons of cargoes and millions of men
for the Allies. Even at that psychological moment when the first
hundred thousand were being transported to France, Germany refrained
from a naval attack which might have turned the whole land campaign in
her favor.

To-day, however, the world is awakening to a new idea of sea-power, to
a new conception that will have a far-reaching influence on the future
development of naval machinery.

Sir Cyprian Bridge has stated that one of the functions of a fleet is
the defense of commerce. There is no more important function for a
fleet than this. A nation may be subjugated by direct invasion, or it
may be isolated from the world by blockade. If the blockade be
sufficiently long, and effectively maintained, it will ruin the nation
as effectually as direct invasion.

Thus, in the maintenance of a nation's merchant marine on the high
seas, its navy exercises one of its most vital functions. There can,
therefore, be no naval supremacy for a nation unless its commerce is
assured of immunity from considerable losses through the attack of its
enemy. It is idle for us to speak of our naval supremacy over Germany,
when our navies are failing in one of their most important functions,
and when our commerce is suffering such serious losses. The persons
best qualified to judge are those who are most anxious regarding the
present losses in mercantile tonnage.

While it has been shown that the submersible of to-day, as a fighting
machine, is considerably limited, and in no sense endangers the
existence of the capital ship, nevertheless in the new huge
submersible it seems that the ideal commerce-destroyer has been found.
This vessel possesses the necessary cruising radius to operate over
sufficient distances to control important routes; it makes a surface
speed great enough to run down cargo steamers, and has a
superstructure to mount guns of considerable power (up to six-inch).
It embodies almost all the qualifications of the light surface
cruiser, with the additional tremendous advantage of being able to
hide by submergence. To be completely successful, it must operate in
flotillas of hundreds in waters that are opaque to aërial observation.
Germany has but a limited number of these submersibles, otherwise she
would be able to crush the Allied commerce.

The ideal submersible commerce-raider should be a vessel of such
displacement that she could carry a sufficient number of large guns in
her superstructure to enable her to fight off the attack of surface
destroyers and the smaller patrol craft.[2] She should be capable of
cruising over a large radius at high speed, both on the surface and
submerged. The supersubmersible flotillas should comprise fifty or
sixty of these units. The attack on the trade routes should be made by
a number of flotillas operating at different points at unexpected
times. To-day Germany has concentrated her submarine war particularly
in the constricted waters about England. It is here that the shipping
is most congested, and therefore the harvest is richest, but it is
also easier to protect the trade routes over these limited areas of
water by patrols, nets, etc., than it would be to protect the entire
trans-oceanic length of the steamship lanes. If the submersible were
capable of dealing directly with the destroyer in gun-fighting, a
tremendous revolution would take place in the tactics of "submarine
swatting." Then it would be difficult to see how the submersible could
be dealt with.

Improvement in motive machinery is the vital necessity in the
development of the submersible. The next few years may see unexpected
strides taken in this direction. A great deal will also be
accomplished in perfecting methods of receiving sounds under water,
particularly in relation to ascertaining the direction of these
sounds. When this is done, it will be possible for the submersible
commander to tell a great deal about the positions of the vessels
above him, and thus his artificial ears will compensate to a great
extent for his blindness. By the addition of a greater number of
torpedo-tubes, and the improvement of their centralized control in the
hand of the commander at the periscope, along lines which we are now
developing, it will be possible for the submersible to achieve a
greater effectiveness in its torpedo fire. Probably torpedoes will
then be used only against the more important enemy units, such as
battleships, cruisers, and the like. To be certain of striking these
valuable targets would be worth expending a number of torpedoes in
salvo fire.

Whether the German U-boat campaign succeeds or not will be largely a
question of the number of submersibles that the Central Powers can put
into service, and to what extent the submersible will be developed
during the present war.


III

German submarines have sunk over 7,250,000 tons of the Allied
shipping. In December, 1916, it was stated in the British Parliament
that the merchant marine of Great Britain had at that time over
20,000,000 tons. Within the first three months of the unrestricted
submarine warfare, 1,100,000 tons of British shipping went to the
bottom. At this rate, England would lose 25 per cent of her merchant
marine per annum. It is for this reason that the attention of the
entire world is concentrated upon the vital problem of the submarine
menace. On land, the Central Powers are still holding their ground,
but there is a continuous increase of the forces of the Allies which
should lead finally to such a preponderance of power as will overwhelm
the forces opposed to them. The Allied armies, however, depend for
their sustenance and supplies upon the freedom of the seas. The trade
routes of the world constitute the arteries which feed the muscles of
these armies. Germany is endeavoring to cut these arteries by the
submarine. Should she even appreciably limit the supplies that cross
the ocean to the Allies, she will bring about a condition that will
make it impossible to augment their armies. In this way there will
inevitably be a deadlock, which, from the German standpoint, would be
a highly desirable consummation.

Obviously, the first method of handling the submarine problem would
be to bottle the German undersea craft in their bases. There has been
a number of proposals as to how best to accomplish this. It has been
stated that the English Navy has planted mines in channels leading
from Zeebrugge and other submarine bases; but it is necessary only to
recall the exploits of the E-11 and the E-14 of the British Navy at
the Dardanelles, to see that it would not be impossible for the
Germans to pass in their U-boats through these mine-fields into the
open sea. It will be remembered that the E-11 and the E-14 passed
through five or more mine-fields, thence through the Dardanelles into
the Sea of Marmora, and even into the Bosphorus under seemingly
impossible conditions. Yet, in spite of the tremendous risks that they
ran, these boats continued their operations for some time, passing up
as far as Constantinople, actually shelling the city, sinking
transports, and accomplishing other feats which have been graphically
described in the stories of Rudyard Kipling. And again, if the
mine-fields were placed in close proximity to their bases, it would be
comparatively easy for German submersibles of the Lake type,
possessing appliances to enable divers to pass outboard when the
vessel is submerged, to go out and cut away the mines and thus render
them ineffective.

Nets are also used to hinder the outward passage of the submarine.
These nets can likewise be attacked and easily cut by devices with
which modern U-boats are equipped. The problem of placing these
obstacles is a difficult one, in view of the fact that the ships so
engaged are harassed by German destroyers and other enemy craft.
Outside of Zeebrugge, shallow water extends to a distance of about
five miles from the coast, and it has been suggested that a large
number of aircraft, carrying bombs and torpedoes, should be used to
patrol systematically the channel leading from that port to deep
water, with the intent of attacking the submersibles as they emerge
from this base. It is ridiculous to suppose that the Germans would not
be able to concentrate an equally large number of aircraft, to be
supported also by anti-aircraft guns on the decks of destroyers and by
the coast defenses. We have not yet won the supremacy of the air, and
it must inevitably be misleading to base any proposition on the
assumption that we are masters of that element.

The problem of bottling up the submersibles is enormously difficult,
because it necessitates operations in the enemy's territory, where he
would possess the superiority of power. I believe that the question of
operations against the submarine bases is not a naval but a military
one, and one which would be best solved by the advance of the Western
left flank of the Allied armies.

The second method is to attack the submarines with every appliance
that science can produce. In order to attack the submarine directly
with any weapon, it is necessary first to locate it. This is a problem
presenting the greatest difficulty, for it is by their elusiveness
that the submarines have gained such importance in their war on
trade. They attack the more or less helpless merchant ships, and
vanish before the armed patrols appear on the scene.

Almost every suitable appliance known to physics has been proposed for
the solution of the problem of submarine location and detection. As
the submarine is a huge vessel built of metal, it might be supposed
that such a contrivance as the Hughes induction balance might be
employed to locate it. The Hughes balance is a device which is
extremely sensitive to the presence of minute metallic masses in
relatively close proximity to certain parts of the apparatus.
Unfortunately, on account of the presence of the saline sea-water, the
submersible is practically shielded by a conducting medium in which
are set up eddy currents. Although the sea-water may lack somewhat in
conductivity, it compensates for this by its volume. For this reason,
the induction balance has proved a failure.

But another method of detecting the position of a metallic mass is by
the use of the magnetometer. This device operates on the principle of
magnetic attraction, and in laboratories on stable foundations it is
extremely sensitive. But the instability of the ship on which it would
be necessary to carry this instrument would render it impossible to
obtain a sufficient degree of sensitiveness in the apparatus to give
it any value. The fact that the submersible is propelled under water
by powerful electric motors begets the idea that the electrical
disturbances therein might be detected by highly sensitive detectors
of feeble electrical oscillations. The sea-water, in this case, will
be found to absorb to a tremendous extent the effects of the
electrical disturbance. Moreover, the metallic hull of the submersible
forms in itself an almost ideal shield to screen the outgoing effect
of these motors.

Considerable and important development has been made in the creation
of sensitive sound-receiving devices, to hear the propeller vibrations
and the mechanical vibrations that are present in a submersible, both
of which are transmitted through the water. There are three principal
obstacles to the successful use of such a device: when the submersible
is submerged, she employs rotary and not reciprocating prime-movers,
being in consequence relatively quiet when running under water, and
inaudible at any considerable distance; the noises of the vessel
carrying the listening devices are difficult to exclude, as are also
the noises of the sea, which are multitudinous; finally, the
sound-receiving instruments are not highly directive, hence are not of
great assistance in determining the position of the object from which
they are receiving sounds.[3]

To locate the submersible, aërial observation has been found useful.
It is particularly so when the waters are clear enough to observe the
vessel when submerged to some depth, but its value is less than might
be supposed in the waters about the British Isles and Northern
Europe, where there is a great deal of matter in suspension which
makes the sea unusually opaque. The submersible, however, when running
along the surface with only its periscope showing, is more easily
detected by aircraft than by a surface vessel. Behind the periscope,
there is a characteristic small wake, which is distinguishable from
above, but practically invisible from a low level of observation. Many
sea-planes are operating on the other side for the purpose of locating
enemy submersibles and reporting their presence to the surface patrol
craft. In order to overcome the disadvantages of creating the
periscope wake which I have mentioned, it is reported that the Germans
have developed special means to allow the U-boats, when raiding, to
submerge to a fixed depth without moving. To maintain any body in a
fluid medium in a static position is a difficult matter, as is shown
in the instability of aircraft. One of the great problems of the
submersible has been to master the difficulties of its control while
maintaining a desired depth. The modern submersible usually forces
itself under water, while still in a slightly buoyant condition, by
its propellers and by the action of two sets of rudders, or
hydroplanes, which are arranged along its superstructure and which
tend to force it below the surface when they are given a certain
inclination; but should the engines stop, the diving rudders, or
hydroplanes, would become ineffective, and, because of the reserve
buoyancy in the hull, the vessel would come to the surface.

In order to maintain the vessel in a state of suspension under water
without moving, it would be necessary to hold an extremely delicate
balance between the weight of the submarine and that of the water
which it displaces. Variations in weights are so important to the
submersible that, as fuel is used, water is allowed to enter certain
tanks to compensate exactly for the loss of the weight of the fuel. To
obtain such an equilibrium, an automatic device controlled by the
pressure of the water, which, of course, varies with the depth, is
used. This device controls the pumps which fill or empty the
ballast-tanks, so as to keep the relation of the submersible to the
water which it displaces constant, under which condition the vessel
maintains a fixed depth. The principle of this mechanism is, of
course, old, and was first embodied in the Whitehead torpedo, which
has a device that can be set so as to maintain the depth at which it
will run practically constant. With the addition of a telescopic
periscope, which can be shortened or extended at will, it will be
possible for the U-boat to lie motionless with only the minute surface
of the periscope revealing her position.


IV

To attack the submersible is a matter of opportunity. It is only when
one is caught operating on the surface, or is forced to the surface by
becoming entangled in nets, that the patrol has the chance to fire
upon it. Against this method of attack, modern submersibles have been
improving their defenses. To-day, they are shielded with armor of
some weight on the superstructure and over part of the hull. They are
also equipped with guns up to five inches in diameter, and, affording,
as they do, a fairly steady base, they can outmatch in gun-play any of
the lighter patrol boats which they may encounter.

One of the important improvements which have been made has resulted in
the increased speed with which they now submerge from the condition of
surface trim. A submersible of a thousand tons displacement will carry
about five hundred tons of water ballast. The problem of submerging is
mainly that of being able rapidly to fill the tanks. On account of the
necessity of dealing with large quantities of water in the ballast
system, the European submersibles are equipped with pumps which can
handle eight tons of water per minute.

Again, the speed which the electrical propulsion system gives the
vessel on the surface greatly increases the pressure which the diving
rudders can exert in forcing the submersible under water. This effect
may be so marked that it becomes excessive, and Sueter emphasizes the
point that vessels at high speed, when moving under water, may, on
account of the momentum attained, submerge to excessive depths. To
eliminate this tendency, there is a hydrostatic safety system which
automatically causes the discharge of water from the ballast-tank when
dangerous pressures are reached, thus bringing the submersible to a
higher level where the pressure on the hull will not be so severe.
From this it follows that the opportunity of ramming a submersible,
or of sinking it by gunfire, is greatly minimized, since the vessel
can disappear so rapidly.

    [Illustration: _Photograph from Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
    INTERIOR OF A SUBMARINE]

A great deal has been attempted with nets. Fixed nets extend across
many of the bodies of water around the British Isles. Their positions,
doubtless, are now very well known to the Germans. The problem of
cutting through them is not a difficult one. Moreover, the hull of the
submersible has been modified so that the propellers are almost
entirely shielded and incased in such a way that they will not foul
the lines of a net. There has also been a steel hawser strung from the
bow across the highest point of the vessel to the stern, so that the
submersible can underrun a net without entangling the superstructure.
Some nets are towed by surface vessels. The process is necessarily
slow, and to be effective the surface vessel must know the exact
location of the submersible. Towing torpedoes or high explosive
charges behind moving vessels has been developed by the Italian Navy,
but the chances of hitting a submersible with such devices are not
very great.

Bomb-dropping from aëroplanes can be practiced successfully under
exceptional conditions only. In view of the fact that such
bomb-dropping is exceedingly inaccurate, and that the charges carried
are relatively small, this form of attack ordinarily would not be very
dangerous for the submersible. Surface craft have also employed large
charges of high explosives, which are caused to detonate by
hydrostatic pistons upon reaching a certain depth. Patrol boats carry
such charges in order to overrun the submersible, drop the charges in
its vicinity, and by the pressure of the underwater explosion crush
its hull. Since the pressure of an underwater explosion diminishes
rapidly as the distance increases from the point of detonation, it
would be necessary to place the explosive charge fairly close to the
hull of the submersible to be certain of its destruction. To
accomplish this, it would seem that the ideal combination would be the
control of an explosive carrier by radio energy directly from an
aëroplane. Thus we would have a large explosive charge under water
where it can most effectively injure the submersible, controlled by
the guidance of an observer in the position best suited to watch the
movements of the submerged target.

The third method by which to frustrate the attack of the submersible
is to give better protection to the merchant marine itself. While a
great deal of ingenuity is being concentrated on the problem of
thwarting the submersible, but little common sense has been used.
While endeavoring to devise intricate and ingenious mechanisms to sink
the submersible, we overlook the simplest safeguards for our merchant
vessels. To-day, the construction of the average ship is designed to
conform to the insurance requirements. This does not mean in any way
that the ship is so constructed as to be truly safe. Thousands of
vessels that are plying the seas to-day are equipped with bulkheads
that are absolutely useless because they do not extend high enough to
prevent the water from running from one part of the ship to another
when the ship is partially submerged. Then again, the pumping system
is so arranged as to reach the water in the lower part of the hull
when the ship is up by the head. Should the ship be injured in the
forward part and sink by the head, these pumps would be unable to
reach the incoming water before her condition had become desperate.
There is a vessel operating from New York to-day worth approximately a
million dollars, and if she were equipped with suitable pumps, which
would cost about a thousand dollars, her safety would be increased
about forty per cent. Her owners, however, prefer running the risk of
losing her to expending a thousand dollars! If the merchant vessels
were made more torpedo-proof, it would be an important discouragement
to the U-boat commander. During the past two years of the war,
nineteen battleships have been torpedoed, and out of this number only
three have been sunk, showing that it is possible by proper
construction to improve the hull of a ship to such an extent that it
is almost torpedo-proof. While it may not be practicable, on account
of the cost, to build merchant vessels along the lines of armed ships,
nevertheless much could be done to improve their structural strength
and safety; and since speed is an essential factor in circumventing
torpedo attack, new cargo-carriers should be constructed to be as fast
as is feasible.

So radically have conditions changed that to-day we have a
superabundance of useless dreadnaught power. The smaller guns of some
of these vessels, and their gun crews, would be far more useful on the
merchant vessels than awaiting the far-off day when the German fleet
shall venture forth again. The submersible must be driven below the
surface by a superiority of gunfire on the part of the merchant marine
and its patrols. In this way the submersible would be dependent upon
the torpedo alone, a weapon of distinct limitations. In order to use
it effectively, the submersible must be not more than from eight
hundred to two thousand yards from its target, and must run submerged
at reduced speed, thus greatly lessening its potentiality for
destruction. To-day, submersibles are actually running down and
destroying merchant vessels by gunfire. If merchant vessels carried
two high-speed patrol launches equipped with three-inch guns of the
Davis non-recoil type, and these vessels were lowered in the danger
zone as a convoy to the ship, such a scheme would greatly lessen the
enormous task of the present patrol. In the event of gunfire attack by
a submersible, three vessels would be on the alert to answer her fire
instead of one: an important factor in discouraging submersibles from
surface attack!

The future of the submarine campaign is of vital importance. The
prospect is not very cheerful. Laubeuf states that at the beginning of
the war Germany had not over thirty-eight submersibles. This statement
may be taken with a grain of salt; the Germans do not advertise what
they have. It is probable, however, that to-day they have not more
than two hundred submersibles in operation. Over four thousand patrol
boats are operating against this relatively small number, and yet
sinkings continue at an alarming rate. It is estimated that Germany
will be able to produce a thousand submersibles in the coming year and
man these vessels with crews from her blockaded ships. This will be a
tremendous addition to the number she has now in operation. The
greater the number of submersibles she has in action, the greater the
area the submarine campaign will cover. The number of patrol vessels
will have to be increased in direct proportion to the area of the
submarine zone. Since a large number of patrol boats has to operate
against each submersible, it will be seen that a tremendous fleet
will have to be placed in commission to offset a thousand
submersibles. Thus the problem becomes increasingly difficult, and the
protection of the trade route will be no more thoroughly effected than
it is to-day--unless we overwhelm the enemy by a tremendous fleet of
destroyers.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The "Majestic" was torpedoed at the Dardanelles, while at anchor.
The "Triumph" was torpedoed while moving slowly; both warships had out
their torpedo nets.

[2] The Germans have in operation submersibles of 2000 tons
displacement.

[3] Big strides, however, have been made lately in overcoming these
shortcomings, and it would appear that the principle of sound-detection
is the most hopeful one for us to follow.



THE JOURNAL OF SUBMARINE COMMANDER VON FORSTNER



I

ORDERED TO COMMAND A SUBMARINE


Every year about the first of October, at the time of the great army
maneuvers, new appointments are also made in the navy; but, unlike our
army brothers, who from beginning to end remain permanently either in
the artillery, cavalry, or infantry, we officers of the navy are
shifted from cruiser to torpedo boat, from the ship of the line to the
hated office desk on land at the Admiralty, in order to fit us to
serve our Almighty War Lord in every capacity and to the best
advantage. The commander of a torpedo boat must be familiar with the
service on board a dreadnaught or on any other large ship, for only
those who are intimately acquainted with the kind of ship they are
going to attack possess sufficient skill to destroy it.

For the first time in the autumn of 190- some of us were surprised at
the announcement: "Ordered on board a submarine." This order naturally
met with an immediate response, but it brought a new outlook on the
possibilities of our career, for we had not yet been trained to this
branch of the service which our Almighty War Lord had only recently
added to the Imperial Navy. The question was, should we be able to
perform this new duty?

It is well known that the French were the first to complete a type of
submarine navigable underseas, and the English unwillingly, but with a
sly anticipation of coming events, copied this type of boat.

To all outward appearance we kept aloof from following the example of
our neighbors, and our chiefs of the Admiralty were beset with
expostulations on the subject, but they were silently biding their
time while our enemies of to-day were bragging about their successful
experiments with their newly constructed submarines. To the dismay and
astonishment of our opponents it was only when the right hour had
struck that our navy revealed that it had similar weapons at its
command; it therefore prepared for them some disagreeable surprises,
and set its special seal from the very beginning on the maritime
warfare.

I remember a talk I had with an old army officer a few years ago, when
I had just received my appointment to a submarine. We were speaking of
U-boats and aëroplanes, and he exclaimed: "Ach! my dear Forstner, give
it up! The bottom of the ocean is for fishes, and the sky is for
birds."

What would have happened to us in this war had we not so proudly
excelled above the earth and beneath the sea?

At first a mystery still veiled our knowledge concerning our
submarines; we were told that the dear, good, old U-boat No. 1 had
splendidly stood every test, and shortly after, in October, 190-, I
went on board, and had the honor later to command her for two years.
But during this period, for several years, the greatest secrecy
surrounded this new weapon of our navy; strictest orders were given
to admit no one on board, not even high officers; only admirals were
allowed to penetrate within, and on every matter concerning our
U-boats we had to maintain absolute silence. Now, however, that our
usefulness has been so fully justified, the veil of discretion can be
somewhat lifted, and I can describe within certain limits the life and
activities on board a submarine.



II

BREATHING AND LIVING CONDITIONS UNDER WATER


A submarine conceals within its small compass the most concentrated
technical disposition known in the art of mechanical construction,
especially so in the spaces reserved for the steering gear of the boat
and for the manipulation of its weapons.

The life on board becomes such a matter of habit that we can
peacefully sleep at great depths under the sea, while the noise is
distinctly heard of the propellers of the enemy's ships, hunting for
us overhead; for water is an excellent sound conductor, and conveys
from a long distance the approach of a steamer. We are often asked,
"How can you breathe under water?" The health of our crew is the best
proof that this is fully possible. We possessed as fellow passengers a
dozen guinea pigs, the gift of a kindly and anxious friend, who had
been told these little creatures were very sensitive to the ill
effects of a vitiated atmosphere. They flourished in our midst and
proved amusing companions.

It is essential before a U-boat submerges to drive out the exhausted
air through powerful ventilating machines, and to suck in the purest
air obtainable; but often in war time one is obliged to dive with the
emanations of cooking, machine oil, and the breath of the crew still
permeating the atmosphere, for it is of the utmost importance to the
success of a submarine attack that the enemy should not detect our
presence; therefore, it is impossible at such short notice to clear
the air within the boat. These conditions, however, are bearable,
although one must be constantly on the watch to supply in time fresh
ventilation.

Notwithstanding certain assertions in the press of alleged discoveries
to supply new sources of air, the actual amount remains unchanged from
the moment of submersion, and there is no possibility, either through
ventilators or any other device so far known in U-boat construction,
to draw in fresh air under water; this air, however, can be purified
from the carbonic acid gas exhalations by releasing the necessary
proportion of oxygen. If the carbonic acid gas increases in excess
proportion then it produces well-known symptoms, in a different
degree, in different individuals, such as extreme fatigue and violent
headaches. Under such conditions the crew would be unable to perform
the strenuous maneuver demanded of it, and the carbonic acid must be
withdrawn and oxygen admitted.

The ventilation system of the entire submarine is connected with
certain chemicals, through which the air circulates, whose property is
to absorb and retain the carbonic acid. Preparations of potassium are
usually employed for this purpose. Simultaneously, cylinders of
oxygen, under fairly high pressure, spray oxygen into the ventilation
system, which is released in a measure proportionate to the number of
the crew; there is a meter in the distributing section of the oxygen
tubes, which is set to act automatically at a certain ratio per man.
The ordinary atmosphere is bearable for a long time and this costly
method of cleansing the air is used only as a last resort; the moment
at which it must be employed is closely calculated to correspond, not
only with the atmospheric conditions at the time of submersion, but
also to the cubic quantity of air apportioned to each man according to
his activities and according to the size of the boat.

It is unnecessary to clear the air artificially during a short
submersion, but during prolonged ones it is advisable to begin doing
so at an early hour to prevent the carbonic acid gas from gaining a
disproportionate percentage, as it becomes then more difficult to
control, and it is obvious that it is impossible to dissipate the
fumes of cooking, the odors of the machine oil, and the breath of the
crew.

Taken altogether one can live comfortably underseas, although there is
a certain discomfort from the ever-increasing warmth produced by the
working of the electrical machinery, and from the condensation created
by the high temperature on the surface of the boat plunged in cold
water, which is more noticeable in winter and in colder regions.

It is interesting to observe that the occupations of the crew
determine the atmospheric conditions: the quantity of air required by
a human body depends entirely on its activity. A man working hard
absorbs in an hour eighty-five liters of air. Besides the commander,
who is vigorously engaged in the turret,--as will be hereafter
described,--the men, employed on the lateral and depth steering, and
those handling the torpedo tubes, are doing hard physical work. The
inactive men use up a far smaller quantity of air, and it is
ascertained that a man asleep requires hourly only fifteen liters of
air. A well-drilled crew, off duty, is therefore expected to sleep at
once, undisturbed by the noise around them, and their efficiency is
all the greater when the time comes to relieve their weary comrades.
We had a wireless operator on board whose duties ceased after
submersion, and he had so well perfected the art of sleeping that he
never cost us more than fifteen liters of air, hourly, underseas.

The length of time that a U-boat can remain under water depends, as we
stated above, on the atmospheric conditions at the moment of
plunging, and on the amount of oxygen and chemicals taken on board. We
can stay submerged for several days, and a longer period will probably
never be necessary.

The distance of vision varies somewhat under water, as we look out
from the side windows cut into the steel armor of the commander's
conning tower. We can naturally see farther in the clear water of the
deep ocean than in the turbid, dirty water at the mouth of a river,
and the surface of the water-bottom has a direct influence on the
sight, which is far more distinct over a light sand than over dark
seaweed or black rocks, and at an upper level the sunshine is
noticeable many meters under water. But in any case, the vision
underseas is of the shortest, and does not extend beyond a few
meters; light objects and even the stem and stern of our own boat are
invisible from the turret. We are unaware, therefore, of advancing
ships, derelicts, or projecting rocks, and no lookout can preserve us
from these dangers.

The crew is entirely ignorant of their surroundings. Only the
commander in his turret surveys through the periscope now and then a
small sector of the horizon; and in turning round the periscope he
gradually perceives the entire horizon. But this survey demands great
physical exertion, which on a long cruise is most fatiguing. The
periscopes erected through the upper cover of the turret must not be
too easily turned in their sockets, and the latter are very tightly
screwed in, for otherwise they would not be able to resist the water
pressure at a great depth. The effort of simply turning the periscope
is so exhausting that casual observations of the horizon are made by
the officer of the watch; but during naval maneuvers or in time of
war, the commander alone manipulates the periscope. It is essential in
this case that the periscope should not arise needlessly above water
and betray the presence of the U-boat.

The commander must possess the absolute confidence of his crew, for
their lives are in his hands. In this small and carefully selected
company, each man, from the commanding officer down to the sailor boy
and down to the stoker, knows that each one is serving in his own
appointed place, and they perform their duties serenely and
efficiently.

I have always allowed every man on board once, in turn, to have a
look through the periscope; it is their highest ambition, and the
result is excellent, for it reassures them and they feel more
confident as to their own safety after the granting of this small
favor.

As we advance underseas, unless passing through a school of fish, we
seldom see any fish, for the noise of the propellers frightens them
away; but when we lie at rest on the bottom of the ocean, the electric
lights allure them, and they come and stare at us with goggling eyes
close to the windows in the turret.

The life, therefore, in our "cylinder" as we call it, offers a good
deal of variety. The term "cylinder" is exact, for the inner
conformation of a submarine is necessarily rounded, so that relatively
thin partitions can successfully resist the greatest pressure of
water.



III

SUBMERSION AND TORPEDO FIRE


A new passenger, for the first time in a submarine, has often
professed to be unaware that he was fathoms deep under water and has
been quite unconscious that the boat had been diving. Of course his
astonishment indicates that he was not in the compartment where these
maneuvers take place, for it is in the commander's turret that the
whole apparatus is centralized for submersion, for steering to the
right depth, and also for emersion. At this juncture every man must be
at his post, and each one of the thirty members of the crew must feel
individually responsible for the safety of the whole in the difficult
and rapid maneuver of plunging, for the slightest mistake may endanger
the security of the boat.

The central control, situated in the commander's turret, is in reality
the brain of the boat. When the alarm signal is heard to change the
course from surface navigation to subsurface navigation, several
previously designated members of the crew take their post of duty in
the commander's turret. The commander, himself, is on duty during the
whole of the expedition in time of war, and he seldom gets a chance
for rest in his tiny little cabin. Day and night, if there is the
slightest suspicion of the approach of the enemy, he watches on the
exposed bridge on the top of the turret; for a few seconds' delay in
submerging might forfeit the taking of a much coveted prize. So he
learns to do without sleep, or to catch a few brief seconds of repose
by lying down in his wet clothes, and he is at once ready to respond
to the alarm signal of the officer of the watch.

In one bound he is once more surveying the horizon through the
periscope, or mounts to the bridge to determine with his powerful
field glass whether friend or foe is in sight. His observations must
be taken in the space of a few seconds, for the enemy is also
constantly on the lookout, and continual practice enables the sailor
in the crow's nest to detect the slender stem of a periscope, although
the hull of the boat is scarcely visible on the face of the waters.

The commander must come to a prompt decision as soon as he locates
the adversary's exact position. Not only may a retarded submersion
spoil our plan of attack, but we are exposed to being rammed by a
rapidly advancing steamer; our haste must be all the greater if the
conditions of visibility are impaired, as is often the case on the
high seas, for it takes time for the U-boat to submerge completely,
and during this process it is helplessly exposed to the fire of long
distance guns.

Calmly, but with great decision, the commander gives the general
orders to submerge. The internal combustion engines, the oil motors
which, during surface navigation are used to accelerate the speed of
the boat, are immediately disconnected, as they consume too much air
underseas, and electric motors are now quickly attached and set in
motion. They are supplied by a large storage battery, which consumes
no air and forms the motive power during subsurface navigation. Of
course electricity might be employed above water, but it uses up much
current which is far more expensive than oil, and would be wasted too
rapidly if not economized with care.

It would be convenient to employ the same oil motor for underseas
navigation, but such a machine has not yet been constructed, although
various futile attempts of this kind have been made. With only one
system of propulsion we should gain much coveted space and a more
evenly distributed weight; within the same dimensions new weapons of
attack could be inserted, and also effective weapons of defense. The
inventor of such a device would earn a large reward. Let him who wants
it, try for it!

Quickly, with deft hands, the outboard connections, which served as
exhausts for the oil motors, must be closed in such a way as to resist
at once the high water pressure. It is well known that for every ten
meters under water we oppose the pressure of one atmosphere--one
kilogram to the square centimeter--and we must be prepared to dive to
far greater depths.

When all these openings have been carefully closed and fastened, then
begins the maneuver of submersion. The sea water is admitted into big
open tanks. Powerful suction engines, in the central control of the
boat, draw out the air from these tanks so as to increase the rapid
inrush of the water. The chief engineer notifies the captain as soon
as the tanks are sufficiently filled and an even weight is established
so as to steer the boat to the proper depth for attack.
Notwithstanding the noise of the machinery, large, wide-open speaking
tubes facilitate the delivery of orders between the commander's turret
and the Central, and now is the moment the commander gives the order
to submerge.

All this may sound very simple and yet there are a great many things
to consider. In the same manner in which an airplane is carefully
balanced before taking wing into the high regions of the sky, a
submarine must be accurately weighed and measured before it descends
into the watery depths of the ocean. The briny water of the North Sea
weighs far more than the less salty water of the Baltic Sea, whose
western basin is composed of practically fresh water. A boat floats
higher in the heavily salted waters of the North Sea and lies deeper
and plunges farther down in the waters of the Baltic. The same U-boat,
therefore, must take into its tanks a greater quantity of water
ballast in the North Sea, to be properly weighted, than when diving
into fresher waters. Even with small submarines of 400 tons
displacement, there is the enormous difference of 10 tons between
1.025 specific weight in the intake of North Sea water and 1.000
specific weight of fresh water. On the other hand, if too much water
is admitted into the tanks, the submarine may plunge with great
velocity deeper and deeper beyond its appointed depth, and in such a
case it might even happen that the hull of the boat could not
withstand the overpowering pressure and would be crushed beneath the
mass of water. And yet again if too small a quantity of water ballast
is admitted into the tanks, the boat may not sink sufficiently below
the surface, and thus we could not obtain an invisible attack which is
positively necessary for our success.

How much water then must we take in? The answer to this question is a
matter of instinct, education, and experience and we must also depend
on the cleverly devised apparatus made for this purpose.

The submarine like the airplane must be always maintained at the
proper level. The weight of the boat varies continually during a
prolonged voyage. Food is devoured and the diving material of the
machinery is consumed. The water in which the boat swims continually
changes weight and the boat is imperceptibly raised or lowered in a
way very difficult to ascertain. The officer responsible for the
flooding of the submarine must painstakingly keep its weight under
control during the entire navigation. The weight of a meal eaten by
each man of the crew, the remains of the food and the boxes in which
it was contained, which have been thrown overboard, must be calculated
as well as the weight of the water, and the officer employs delicate
apparatus for these measurements.

On the open seas these alterations in weight do not occur very
rapidly; but whenever a boat approaches the mouth of a river, then the
transition from salt to fresh water happens very suddenly and may
provoke the undesirable disturbances to which we have already alluded.
Also warm and cold currents at different depths produce thermotic
conditions, which surprisingly change the weight of the water.

Peculiar as it may appear, a submarine must be lightened to descend to
a very great depth, whereas, in steering to a higher level, more water
must be admitted into the tanks to prevent our emerging to the surface
with too great suddenness. This demands careful attention, skill, and
experience.

The principal condition for the success of a submarine attack is to
steer to the exact depth required. The periscope must not rise too
far above water, for it might easily be observed by the enemy; but if,
by clumsy steering, the top of the periscope descends below the waves,
then it becomes impossible to take aim to fire the torpedo. The
commander therefore must be able to depend on the two men who control
the vertical and horizontal rudders, whom another officer constantly
directs and supervises.

When the boat has reached the prescribed depth a close examination is
made of all the outward-leading pipes, to see if they can properly
resist the water pressure; if any tiny leak has been sprung, every cap
must be tightly screwed down; for it is evident it would be very
undesirable if any leak should occur and increase the heaviness of
the submarine. Absolute silence must prevail so that any dripping or
greater influx in the tanks can be observed.

Quietly and silently the boat advances against the enemy; the only
audible sounds are the purring of the electric motors and the
unavoidable noise made by the manipulation of the vertical and
horizontal rudders. Alert and speechless, every man on board awaits a
sign from the commander, who is watching in the turret; but some time
may elapse--now that the periscope is lowered and nearly on the level
of the waters--before the adversary becomes visible again. The ship
may have changed her course and have taken an opposite direction to
the one she was following at the moment we submerged. In that case she
would be out of reach and all our preparations prove useless.

At various intervals, the commander presses an electric button and
raises and lowers the periscope as quickly as possible, so as to take
his own observation without, if possible, being observed himself; for
he knows that any injury to the periscope--his most priceless
jewel--would, as it were, render the boat blind and rob him of the
much coveted laurel leaves. During these short glimpses the commander
only perceives a little sky and the wide, round plate of the reflected
sea with its dancing waves, while the nervous tension of the expectant
crew increases every minute.

At last is heard a joyous outcry from the commander, "The fellows are
coming!"--and after one quick glance, to locate the enemy exactly,
the periscope is lowered. Now every heart beats with happy
anticipation and every nerve quivers with excitement. The captain
quickly issues his orders for the course to be steered and for the
necessary navigation. The officer in charge of the torpedoes receives
the command to clear the loaded torpedo for firing, while the captain
quietly calculates, first, the relative position of his boat to the
enemy's ship, according to the course she has taken; secondly, at
which point he must aim the torpedo to take surest effect, and--in the
same way as in hunting a hare--he withholds the shot to correspond to
his victim's gait.

Many thoughts fly through his brain. Here, among his companions, the
annihilation of the enemy will cause joyful enthusiasm, while among
them their downfall will cause overwhelming sorrow. But without doubt
they must vanish from the seas, and only a man, who has experienced
these sensations, knows how many secondary matters occur to him at
such a time.

With lowered periscope, he sees nothing that goes on above him on the
sea, and like a blind man the boat feels its way through the green
flood. Every possible event becomes a subject of conjecture. Will the
fellow continue on the same course? Has he seen our periscope in the
second it was exposed, and is he running away from us? Or, on the
contrary, having seen us, will he put on full steam and try to run us
down with a fatal death stroke from his prow?

At such an instant of high nervous tension, I have caught myself
giving superfluous orders to let myself relax, and yet I knew that
every man was at his post, fully conscious that his own safety, the
safety of the whole boat, and the honor of the Fatherland were all at
stake, and dependent on his individual effort. I knew, of course, that
each fine fellow, down in the machinery room or at the torpedo tubes,
had done his very best, and that all his thoughts were centered like
mine in keen expectancy on the firing of our first torpedo--the eel as
we call it, guarded with so much love and care--which would speed
along accompanied by our warmest wishes. We give nicknames to our
torpedoes, mostly feminine names: side by side below lie "the fat
Bertha," "the yellow Mary," and "the shining Emma," and these ladies
expected to be treated, like all ladies, with the tenderest care and
courtesy.

Now comes the announcement from the torpedo officer, "The torpedoes
are cleared for firing." He stands with a firm hand awaiting the
signal from his commander to permit the torpedo to drive ahead against
the hated, but unconscious adversary, and to bore its way with a loud
report deep into the great steel flank.

Once again the periscope springs for an instant to the surface and
then glides back into the protecting body of the turret. The captain
exclaims, "We are at them!" and the news spreads like wildfire through
the crew. He gives a last rapid order to straighten the course of the
boat. The torpedo officer announces, "Torpedo ready"--and the captain,
after one quick glance through the periscope, as it slides back into
its sheath, immediately shouts, "Fire!"

Even without the prescribed announcement from the torpedo officer that
the torpedo had been set off, every one knows that it is speeding
ahead, and for a few seconds we remain in anxious suspense, until a
dull report provokes throughout our boat loud cheers for Kaiser and
for Empire, and by this report we know that "the fat Bertha" has
reached unhindered her destination. Radiant with joy, the commander
breathes a sigh of relief, and he does not check the young sailor at
the wheel, who seeks to grasp his hand and murmur his fervent
congratulations. But congratulations must be postponed until we
ascertain that our success is complete.

And once again the periscope runs up towards the laughing daylight,
while the commander in happy but earnest tones utters the reassuring
words, "The ship is sinking, further torpedoes can be spared." He then
permits the gratified torpedo officer, who stands by his side, a quick
glance through the periscope to verify the result of his own
efficiency. It is chiefly owing to the care of the personnel of the
torpedo squad, that the torpedoes are maintained in such perfect
condition and that their aim is so correct; and to them is due in
great part the success of our attack.

The commander and his officer exchange a knowing look, for they have
seen the enemy's ship heavily listing to one side, where the water is
rushing into the gaping wound, and soon she must capsize. They see her
crew hastily lowering the life boats--their only means of
escape--and this is a sufficient proof of our victory. We can depart
now in all security. Concealing our presence, we plunge and vanish
beneath the waters; having reached a certain distance, we stop to make
sure that our victim lies at the bottom of the ocean. We behold the
waves playing gently and smoothly as before over the cold, watery
grave of the once proud ship and we hasten away from the scene of our
triumph.

    [Illustration: _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
    A TORPEDOED SCHOONER]

There is no need of our going to the help of the enemy's crew
struggling in the sea, for already their own torpedo boats are
hurrying to the succor of their comrades, and for us there is further
work to be done.

Imagine the enthusiasm our dear fallen comrade, Weddingen, and his
crew must have felt as the loud report of their last torpedo announced
the destruction of their third English armed cruiser!



IV

MOBILIZATION AND THE BEGINNING OF THE COMMERCIAL WAR


After long and agitated waiting, we received in the last days of July,
1914, the command to mobilize. Joyful expectation was visible on every
face, and the only fear that prevailed was that those of us who were
awaiting our orders on land might be too late to take part in the
naval battle we were all looking forward to so eagerly.

A few years ago, one of the Lords of the English Admiralty had
predicted that in the first naval battle fought between Germany and
England, the German fleet would be entirely annihilated. We naturally
only smiled in derision at these boastful words. The English
newspapers, besides, had for many years announced that whenever German
officers met together they drank a toast "To the Day." Although of
course this was untrue, yet we were all burning to prove in battle
what our great Navy had learned in long, hard-working years of peace.

A mighty engagement at sea seemed to us imminent during these first
days of war, and we all longed to be in it. I was, however, at the
moment, among those unfortunates who were strapped down to a desk in
the Admiralty, and with envy I beheld my comrades rushing to active
service, for I had always hoped to lead my old beloved U-boat
victoriously against the enemy. We had all placed strong hopes in the
part our submarines would eventually play in a great crisis, but we
never dreamed that they would so successfully take the first rôle
as our most effective weapon in naval warfare.

    [Illustration: _Photograph by Brown & Dawson, Stamford, Conn._
    _From Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
    GERMAN SUBMARINES U 13, U 5, U 11, U 3, AND U 16 IN KIEL HARBOR]

With a happiness that can hardly be described, I suddenly received the
order to take over the command of a fine, new U-boat which had just
been built at Kiel. Never before was a pen more quickly thrown aside
and a desk closed than when I handed over my duties in the Admiralty
to my successor, and shortly afterwards I took possession of my new,
splendid boat, to which I was going to confide all my luck and all I
was humanly capable of doing.

I addressed my crew in a short speech, and told them we could best
serve our Almighty War Lord in bringing this new weapon of attack,
confided to our care, to the highest state of efficiency, and my
words were greeted with loud cheers.

There was much work to be done in putting the finishing touches to our
submarine, which had only just come off the ways. The auxiliary
machines had to be tested and certain inner arrangements made; but,
thanks to the untiring zeal of the crew and to the eager help we
received from the Imperial Navy Yard, our task was soon accomplished.
After a few short trial trips and firing tests, I was able to declare
our boat ready for sea and for war, and after everything had been
formally surveyed by the inspector we left our home port before the
middle of August.

Departing at a high speed, we bade farewell to the big ships still at
their moorings, and we soon joined our fellow submarines, who had
already in the first fortnight of war, according to an announcement of
the Admiralty Staff, made a dash as far as the English coast; and here
is the proud record of what they further accomplished: At the
beginning of September, 1914, the English cruiser "Pathfinder" was
torpedoed by Lieutenant-Captain Hersing, who later sunk the two ships
of the line, "Triumph" and "Majestic," in the Dardanelles and was
rewarded with our highest order, _Pour le Mérite_.

This initial success proclaimed our submarines to be our greatest
weapon of offense and their importance became of world-wide renown,
for we claim the honor of having fired the first successful torpedo
shot from a submarine. It opened a new era in maritime warfare and was
the answer to many questions, which had puzzled the men of our
profession the whole world over. Above all, we had proved that a
German U-boat, after a long and difficult voyage, could reach the
enemy's coast; and after penetrating their line of defense was able to
send one of their ships to the bottom of the sea with one well-aimed
torpedo shot. The age of the submarine had truly begun.

Other victories followed in prompt succession. Weddingen's wonderful
prowess off the Hoek of Holland, on September 22, 1914, will never be
forgotten. In the space of an hour he sunk the three English armored
cruisers, "Cressy," "Hague," and "Aboukir," and shortly afterwards
dispatched their comrade "Hawke" to keep them company at the bottom of
the North Sea.

Let me add to this list the English cruiser "Hermes" near Dover, the
"Niger" off the Downs of the English coast; the Russian cruiser
"Pallada" in the Baltic; and a great number of other English torpedo
boats, torpedo boat destroyers, as well as auxiliary cruisers and
transports. All this was achieved before the end of 1914.
Unfortunately I am not at liberty, for obvious reasons, to describe my
own part in the beginning of the War, but hope to be able to do so
after we achieve a victorious peace.

Our dear cousins on the other side of the Channel must have been
rather disquieted by the loss of so much shipping at the hands of our
boats or of our mines; and they must have realized that a new method
of warfare had begun, for their fleet no longer paraded in the North
Sea or in any of the waters in the war zone. Their great, valuable
ships were withdrawn, and the patrol of their coast was confided only
to smaller craft and to the mine-layers, in order that their people
might supposedly sleep in peace.

Our adversary was concealed by day, and only ventured forth at night,
confident that darkness would insure his safety. This was then the
hour for us to lie in watch for our prey, and no more glorious clarion
call could have heralded in the New Year than the torpedo shot, which,
on the New Year's Eve of 1915, sent the mighty ship of the line
"Formidable" to the bottom of the Channel. This was our first
triumphant victory, which showed that not even darkness could
circumvent our plans, and which dispelled all further doubts as to
our efficiency. A few days after the sinking of the "Formidable" a
piece of one of the row boats was washed ashore at Zeebrugge, and now
adorns our Sea Museum as the only reminder left of the great ship.

We stood at last on the same footing as our dear old sister, the
torpedo boat, to whom we in reality owed our present development, and
from now on, in proud independence, we were justified in considering
ourselves a separate branch of the Navy.

Now that England felt obliged to withhold the activities of her fleet,
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.

The Dutch captain raised several objections at being led away captive
in this manner; above all he was afraid of the German mines strewn
before the entrance of Zeebrugge, but my officer reassured him by
telling him we should lead the way and he would therefore run no risk.
He finally had to resign himself to his fate. So we proceeded towards
the shores of Flanders; we, in the proud consciousness of a new
achievement, and the Dutchman lamenting over the seizure of his
valuable cargo. The passengers must have wondered what was in store
for them. Many of the ladies were lightly clad, having been roused in
fright from their morning slumbers, and their anxious eyes stared at
us, while we merrily looked back at them.

Our officer on board exchanged continual signals with us, and we were
soon conscious, with a feeling of envy, as we gazed through our field
glasses, that he was getting on very friendly terms with the fair sex
on board our prize. We had feared at first that he might have some
disagreeable experiences, but his first message spelled, "There are a
great many ladies on board," and the second, "We are having a
delicious breakfast," and the third, "The captain speaks excellent
German," so after this we were quite reassured concerning him.

An hour may have elapsed when a cloud of smoke on the eastern horizon
announced the approach of another steamer, and the idea that we might
perhaps capture a second prize ship was very alluring. The wisdom of
abandoning for a while our first captive was considered somewhat
doubtful; if we delayed it might escape after darkness set in, but
when I heard my officers exclaim "What a fine steamer!" I decided to
try for it. The "Batavian" was ordered to proceed slowly on the same
course, and we would catch up with it later; then turning my attention
to steamer No. 2, I made quickly in her direction to intercept her on
her way to England. After half an hour's pursuit we signaled for her
to stop, and we discovered she was also Dutch. The captain, seeing it
was useless to try and escape, put out a boat and came on board with
the ship's papers; he seemed thoroughly displeased at the meeting, and
hoped no doubt by coming himself to get away more easily, but of this
expectation he was to be sadly disabused. On discovering that he was
also carrying contraband of war--cases of eggs for London--I ordered
him to follow us to Zeebrugge. One officer and a stoker, for I could
not spare another sailor, accompanied him as our prize command on
board his ship, the "Zaanstroom," and after a lapse of an hour and a
half, followed by No. 2, we caught up with No. 1.

The difficulty of my task can be easily imagined, for I was obliged to
make the two steamers follow each other at a given interval and at
the same speed; like a shepherd dog herding his flock I had to cruise
round my two captives and force them to steer a straight and even
course, for one tried occasionally to outdistance the other, probably
with the desire to escape in the foggy weather, which increased my
fear of not reaching the Flemish coast before dark.

But finally I got the steamers into line, and where persuasion might
have failed the menace of my cannons was doubtless my surest reason
for success.

My second officer on the "Zaanstroom" signaled that everything was
going to his liking and that they were just sitting down to a savory
meal of dropped eggs. This was reassuring news, and I could also feel
tranquil on his behalf; besides in a few hours we should be safely
under cover of our coast artillery. We notified the Pilot Depot by
wireless to send us a pilot for each ship, and our messages having
been acknowledged we were certain of being warmly welcomed, and that
every preparation would be made for the reception of our two prizes.

The closer we got to the coast the heavier the fog lay upon the water,
a not unusual experience at sea. We had to advance with the greatest
caution; our U-boat led the way to confirm anew the assurance we had
given our two steamers that they were in no danger of mines. We had to
measure the depth of water repeatedly with the lead, and so doing we
had to stop very often; otherwise the lead being dragged by the
current draws the line to an inaccurate length. It is but too easy a
matter to run aground off the coast of Flanders, as submerged
sandbanks are everywhere to be encountered, and this would have been
in our present case a most unfortunate occurrence. This continual
stopping rather disturbed the order of our march, for steamers are
more unwieldy and less accustomed to rapid maneuvering than war
vessels. Luckily all went well with us, for after a fine trip of
several hours we gladly greeted our German guard-ships lying off the
port of Zeebrugge, and the lighthouse on the mole beckoned to us from
afar through the thin afternoon mist.

We quickly surrendered our two captive's to the patrol of the port
authorities, into whose care and surveillance they were now entrusted.
Our job for the day was over, and we could joyfully hurry to our
berth within the harbor. We passed along the tremendous stone quay of
the artificial port of Zeebrugge; it extends several kilometers, and
was built by Leopold II with English money; it had cost many, many
millions, and was intended to serve quite another purpose than its
present one. We could look with defiance at the mouth of our German
cannons that gaped over the highest edge of the jetty towards the sea,
as if awaiting the foe.

Farther on up the mole, instead of English troops that the King would
so gladly have sent over in transports to march through neutral
Belgium and pay us an uninvited visit, stood, side by side, our own
brave fellows of the Army and of the Navy. Men from every branch of
the service, in their different uniforms, were visible, as they
crowded on the pier to witness our arrival with our two prize boats,
for the news of this unusual capture had already spread far and wide,
and they all wanted to satisfy their curiosity. Their enthusiasm would
have been even greater had they guessed that concealed within the hull
of our two vessels an Easter feast of undreamed-of dainties lay in
store for them. But even without this incentive a tremendous cheer
from a thousand throats hailed our appearance as we rounded the mole,
and our thirty voices returned as hearty, if not as loud, a three
times repeated cheer for the garrison of Zeebrugge. Our tow lines were
caught by the eager hands of the sailors, and in a jiffy we were lying
securely alongside the quay, safe in port to rest in peace a day or
two after a many days' cruise enlivened by such exciting events. Our
friends of the Navy, whom we had not seen since the beginning of the
war, came to visit us at once; much gay news was exchanged and also
sad regrets expressed at the loss of dear fallen comrades.

Shortly afterwards one of the Dutch captains, escorted by two guards,
asked me to grant him an interview, and I was glad to make his
personal acquaintance; we discussed over a little glass of port wine,
which we were both surely entitled to, the incidents of the day, and
he gave vent to his affliction at being thus seized, by ejaculating:
"A great steamer like mine to be captured by a little beast like
yours!" I could sympathize with his feelings, for he had sustained a
severe pecuniary loss, and he well knew what would become of his ship
and cargo according to prize law, but I suspected he found some
consolation in having a companion in misfortune, for the other Dutch
captain had to submit to the same conditions. We shook hands and
parted excellent friends, knowing that each one of us had only
accomplished his duty.

Before making my official report I inspected my two prizes that were
docked just behind us; a chain parted them from the rest of the quay,
with sentries placed on guard. I gave the preference of my first
visit, naturally, as a polite man should, to the steamer with so many
of the fair sex on board. I hoped that by appearing surrounded by my
officers I should dispel their fear of the "German barbarians." I was
told the ladies belonged to a variety troupe that was to give a
performance the next evening in London. Poor London, to be deprived
by our fault of an enjoyable evening!

Among the other passengers were Belgians and French, who had waited
six weeks in Holland for a chance to get across, and also an American
reporter of the Hearst newspaper. He had a camera for taking moving
pictures, and we discovered later that he had photographed the whole
occurrence of the capture of the ship by our submarine. A few days
later the _Graphic_ of March 27, 1915, published several of his
pictures, which eventually found their way to many American papers.

I was ordered that evening to dine with the Commanding Admiral of the
Marine Corps, Excellency von Schröder, and a motor called for me and
took me to Brügge where he resided. The peaceful landscape and the
ploughed fields betrayed but few signs of war, and I saw Belgian
peasants and German soldiers planting together the seed for the coming
harvest.

While the authorities were passing judgment on my two prizes I had a
chance to visit the surrounding country. The English had destroyed in
their retreat everything in Zeebrugge, except the new Palace Hotel,
the new Post Office, and the Belgian Bank. I made the most of this
short opportunity to observe the doings of our men in this conquered
land paid for with German blood. I was interested to note how our
Marines had been incorporated in every branch of the Army service, and
how easily they adapted themselves to this new life. They served as
infantry in the trenches, as artillery behind the great coast guns,
and also as cavalry mounted on big Flemish mares. They had even been
transformed into car conductors on the electric line that runs behind
the dunes between Zeebrugge and Ostend. In fact they filled every kind
of position, and few Belgians were to be seen. We had created here a
second German fatherland and home, notwithstanding the enemy's reports
that we had acted like Huns and barbarians, but as neither the country
nor the people were of great interest to me my attention was centered
on the study of our own troops.

Meantime the unloading of our steamers had begun and I had to
supervise it myself. As the cargoes were composed of perishable
foodstuffs the usual delays were overcome, and hundreds of sailors
and soldiers were ordered to unload the ships. Out of the hold rose
newly slaughtered pigs, and sheep, and ducks, which were at once
distributed among the various regiments. Two hundred barrels of the
best Munich beer were rolled over the quays, and two barrels found
their way on board our little boat, which no one could begrudge us. On
the "Zaanstroom" there were 4,400 boxes of fresh eggs, each box
containing 1,800 eggs, and I was told by an Army officer that every
man of the Northern Army received eight eggs for the Easter festival.

On the following afternoon the nationality of the crew and of the
passengers was recorded; a number of them were sent as prisoners of
war to concentration camps, and many touching farewells ensued
between the men and the women who were left behind. The others were
taken on a special train under military guard to the Dutch frontier.
The German sailors on whom this mission devolved looked very jolly as
they sat armed to the teeth in the railway carriages, by twos,
watching over two pretty variety actresses, and I think they would
willingly have prolonged the journey farther.

I walked along the train to say goodbye to the passengers, who had so
unwillingly made our acquaintance, and I was warmly thanked by an old
American, to whom I personally had done a small favor, for my
courteous treatment; he spoke in the name of all the passengers who
had experienced also the greatest civility at the hands of the port
authorities. I declined these words of thanks, for they had only
received the treatment that was their proper due.

After the train had left, the hour of our own departure had struck; we
cast off the lines that had kept us bound for two such memorable days
on the Flemish coast. In passing by, I waved a farewell to the two
Dutch captains, and away we went--westward ho!



VII

OFF THE COAST OF ENGLAND


Our boat carried us speedily away farther and farther towards the
west, and soon the lighthouse on the mole and the outline of the
country we had conquered faded away in the evening twilight. Before
long we should be surrounded by only hostile shores.

We first sighted the French port of Boulogne where the imposing bronze
statue of Napoleon I stands on a marble column fifty-three meters
high, with eyes turned towards the English coast. It was built to
commemorate the expedition planned by Napoleon in 1803 against the
sons of Albion, whose descendants have so recently landed on French
soil, and as they lie there encamped, they may wonder, when gazing at
the statue of the great Emperor, if he would have welcomed them with
the same enthusiasm with which they have been received by the present
rulers of France.

On our very first day in the French Channel we were able to sink
several steamers, after the crews had left in their lifeboats, and on
general lines a similar picture was traced at every sinking. We were
now granted our first opportunity to steer a submarine above and below
the waters of the North Atlantic. The ocean seemed to rejoice at our
coming, and revealed itself to us in all the glory of a March storm.
Only those who have seen such a storm can realize its proud majesty.
The gigantic, blue-black waves, with their shining crests lashed by
the west wind, came rushing onwards into the open mouth of the
Channel, and the hemmed-in waters, roaring and surging, dashed
themselves against the sharp, rocky points of the French coast, or
broke less violently but in ceaseless unrest on the chalk cliffs of
England which glimmered white in the rays of the sun.

    [Illustration: _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
    LIFEBOAT LEAVING THE SINKING P. AND O. LINER ARABIA]

It is a splendid sight to watch this great spectacle from the high
deck of a steamer as it ploughs its way through the foaming flood, or
to be borne aloft on the top of the waves with a ship under full sail,
but it is still more wonderful to behold Nature's great display from
the half submerged conning-tower of a U-boat, and to dive through the
mountainous breakers until they close gurgling over our heads and hide
us from all curious glances. Our little nutshell, in perpetual
motion, is drawn down into the deep valleys of the ocean waves, or
tossed upwards on the comb of the following breaker. We are soaked to
the skin, and the spray covers us like a silvery veil; our boat as
well as ourselves is daubed with a salt crust, our eyes smart and our
lips have a briny tang, but to us sailors it's a joy to be the sport
of the wild waves, and even those few unfortunates who always suffer
from sea-sickness never lose their love of the sea.

We were thus, in the midst of a strong southwesterly gale, lying in
wait for our prey at the entrance of the English Channel, but no ship
was to be seen; most of them took the northerly course beyond the war
zone, around the Shetland Islands, and it was not until the next
morning, north of the Scilly Isles, in the Bristol Channel, that we
caught sight behind us of a big steamer, running before the wind, like
ourselves. The wind had somewhat fallen and the March sun was shining
bright and warm; the steamer was heading for Cardiff, and we judged by
her course that she had sailed from some port in South America.

Turning about and breasting the waves we faced the oncoming steamer
and signaled to her to stop; but hardly had she espied us than she
also turned about in the hope to escape. She showed no flag to
indicate her nationality, so surely we had sighted an English vessel.
Even after we had fired a warning shot, she tried by rapid and
tortuous curves to return to her former course, and endeavor thereby
to reach her home port. Meantime she sent up rockets as signals of
distress in quick succession, to draw the attention of British patrol
ships that must be hovering in the neighborhood.

This obliged us to fire a decisive shot, and with a loud report our
first shell struck the ship close to the captain's bridge. Instead of
resigning himself to his fate, the Englishman sent up more signals and
hoisted the British flag. This showed us he was game, and the fight
began in dead earnest. All honor to the pluck of these English
captains!--but how reckless to expose in this manner the lives of
their passengers and crew, as we shall see in the present instance.

Circling around us he tried to ram us with his prow, and we naturally
avoided him by also turning in the same direction. Every time he
veered about he offered us his broadside for a shot; with
well-directed aim we took advantage of this target, and our successful
fire gave him full proof of the skill of our gunners. The latter had a
hard time of it; the high seas poured over the low deck, and they
continually stood up to their necks in the cold salt water. They were
often dragged off the deck by the great receding waves, but as they
were tied by strong ropes to the cannons we were able to pull them up
again, and fortunately no lives were lost.

On seeing our gunners struggling in the seas, our foe hoped to make
good his escape, but with each telling shot our own fighting blood was
aroused and the wild chase continued. A well-aimed shell tore off the
English flagstaff at the stern, but the Union Jack was quickly
hoisted again on the foretop. This was also shot down, and a third
time the flag flew from a line of the yard of the foretop, but the
flag had been raised too hastily and it hung reversed, with the Union
Jack upside down, and in this manner it continued to fly until it sank
with the brave ship.

The fight had lasted four hours without our being able to deliver the
death stroke. Several fires had started on the steamer, but the crew
had been able to keep them under control; big holes gaped open in the
ship's side, but there were none as yet below the water line, and the
pumps still sufficed to expel the water. It often occurred that in the
act of firing the waves choked our cannons, and the shot went hissing
through tremendous sheets of water, while we were blinded by a deluge
of foam. Of course we were all wet, through and through, but that was
of no importance, for we had already been wet for days.

It was now essential for us to put an end to this deadly combat, for
English torpedo-boat destroyers were hurrying on to the calls of
distress of the steamer. Big clouds of smoke against the sky showed
they were coming towards us under full steam. The ship was by this
time listing so heavily that it was evident we need waste no more of
our ammunition, and besides the appearance of another big steamer on
the southern horizon was an enticing inducement to quit the battle
scene and seek another victim. We cast a last look on our courageous
adversary who was gradually sinking, and I must add it was the first
and last prey whose end we did not have the satisfaction to witness.
We had been truly impressed by the captain's brave endurance,
notwithstanding his lack of wisdom, and we knew that the men-of-war
were coming to his rescue. We read in the papers, on our return to a
German port, that the "Vosges" had sunk soon after we had departed,
and what remained of the passengers and crew were picked up by the
English ships. The captain was rewarded for his temerity by being
raised to the rank of Reserve officer, and the crew were given sums of
money; but all the other officers had perished, as well as several
sailors and a few passengers, who had been forced to help the stokers
in order to increase the speed of the flying steamer.

We hurried away, therefore, in the direction of the other ship, and as
we approached we soon recognized the Spanish colors flying from her
flagstaff and painted on her sides. The captain willingly stopped at
our bidding and dispatched an officer to us bearing the ship's papers.
The stormy waves had somewhat subsided, and although the occupants of
the boat got very wet, yet they were able, without danger, to come
alongside our submarine. There was no contraband on board the Spanish
steamer, and before dismissing the officer I admonished him always to
stop at the first signal from a U-boat; he assured me that since the
English were constantly hoisting the Spanish flag he had lost all
desire to navigate again in the dangerous waters of the war zone. Much
relieved at getting away so easily he went on board his own steamer,
which resumed its voyage towards the lovely city of Santander on the
Spanish coast.

I read an account later of our encounter with the "Agustina" in a
number of the _Matin_ of April 1, 1915. It was entitled "_Toujours
l'U_" and spoke of our undesirable presence in French waters; a
following number did us the honor to represent a large picture of our
boat with the officers standing on the bridge, taken probably by a
passenger on board the Spanish vessel. An arrow pointed to us with the
inscription, "_Voila l'équipage de bandits_." The English usually
refer to us as "the pirates," and in their rage describe our
activities as those of the "German submarine pest." We are accustomed
to these flattering allusions, and it amused me to preserve and frame
our picture from the _Matin_.

In the next few days we stopped and searched several neutral steamers,
and sank many English ones. The captains were occasionally stubborn
and refused to obey our signals, so a few accidents occurred; in one
case, for instance, a stray shot struck some passengers in a lifeboat,
which collapsed; but as a rule passengers and crews were picked up by
the many sailboats and fishing boats which circulate in the Irish Sea
and in St. George's Channel, and it was we who generally summoned
these fishermen to go to the rescue of their shipwrecked countrymen.

The method of capture was always the same, and now, our ammunition
being nearly exhausted, we steered a homeward course, with the hope
of securing a few more steamers on the way. We were again favored by
good luck, for at the entrance of the English Channel we ran across a
large steamer, coming from America and heading for a French port,
heavily laden with all the fine things that the Americans at present
so willingly export.

The chase began in the usual fashion as we followed closely in the
enemy's wake. Although the captain made an effort to escape, yet he
evidently felt certain from the beginning that he would be unable to
do so, for he immediately swung out the lifeboats, ready to be
lowered. We were economizing our ammunition and did not, according to
our custom, fire a warning shot, but as we drew near the steamer we
suddenly saw dark, round objects thrown overboard. The man at the
helm beside me exclaimed: "They are throwing mines," but I was not of
the same opinion. We proceeded quietly to examine these suspicious
objects more closely, and we discovered they were simply bundles of
clothes the sailors were trying to save. In pitching them into the
lifeboats they had missed the mark and the bundles had fallen into the
sea. A report had apparently spread through the English seaports that
the men had but scant time to save their belongings when they were
sighted by one of our submarines, and since that time their clothes
were strapped together ready for a sudden emergency. The steamer
stopped and the crew on this occasion took to the boats with a perfect
discipline we were little accustomed to witness; the "Flaminian" was
sent to the bottom of the sea with one of our last torpedoes.

The following morning, before bidding the west coast of England a
temporary farewell, we made another good catch. We sighted a
broad-bottomed, four-masted steamer, also coming from America, laden
down, as we soon ascertained, with 5,000 tons of oats, and making its
way to Havre. We started after it, and as usual it tried to escape,
but a well-directed shot through the bridge and chart house brought it
to a stop, and it signaled that the engines were being reversed. The
boats were lowered, and on drawing near we perceived the captain with
others on the bridge holding up their hands as a token of surrender.
As soon as those on board had taken their places in the lifeboats they
rowed towards us and showed the liveliest interest in the final
torpedoing of their steamer. They looked upon it as a new kind of
sport, and under the present conditions they could watch the
performance in the most comfortable way. The sea was like a mirror,
and reflected the smiling spring sunshine whose warming rays were most
agreeably felt.

The English captain had scarcely been on board my submarine a moment
when he begged that we might go together and verify the excellent aim
of our first shot through the forward part of his ship, which he told
me had nearly grazed his ear. I consented to go on his lifeboat and
admire with him, to our mutual enjoyment, the irreproachable
marksmanship of my gunner, although I did not accept a drink of
whisky one of the English officers offered me.

On seeing the gaping hole in the forecastle, the captain and his men
clapped their hands and cried out, "A very good shot!" The captain
congratulated me for securing, as he asserted, the richest prize I had
ever made, but I assured him we had sunk even more valuable cargoes
than the present one. I decided, as the sea was calm and no ship was
in sight, to spare our torpedoes and shells and to put an end to the
steamer with little hand grenades. The Englishmen took a sportsmanlike
interest in the proceedings, and one of the officers even volunteered
to show me the most effective position for the explosive. I naturally
did not gratify his wish to place it there himself, for I knew myself
very accurately the most vulnerable spot in the ship. In a very few
moments a big hole was torn in the side of the "Crown of Castille" and
with a gurgling sound the waters rushed in. At the same time long,
yellow threads of the finest oats floated far out on the sea and,
glistening with a golden shimmer, gave proof long after the steamer
had sunk of the precious cargo which had lain within its flanks. You
poor French army horses, I fear your rations were cut short for a
while!

I had made an interesting study of the manner in which the English
crews of the present day were composed. Apart from the British
officers there were but few experienced seamen on board. This was made
evident by the awkward way the men usually handled the lifeboats. Even
with the enormous increase of wages, sailors could not be found to
risk their lives in the danger zone, and a lot of untrained fellows,
negroes and Chinamen, revealed by their clumsy rowing that they had
only recently been pressed into service.

Various other interesting incidents occurred on our return trip, which
I shall not mention now, but having safely reached our newly conquered
port of Ostend, we read to our amusement in a French paper that our
U-boat had been sunk in the Channel by a fleet of six fishing
steamers.

We were again warmly welcomed by our comrades from the Army and Navy,
all anxious to hear the news we had to tell, and we had the special
honor of a visit from H.R.H. the Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria,
who, after inspecting our boat, permitted me to give him a detailed
account of our recent splendid cruise.

We had many other experiences during the quiet, warm, summer months,
with their long, clear nights, which enabled us to achieve the further
destruction of a large number of steamers. It was glorious to work in
fine weather on our U-boat on the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, so
peaceful at this season of the year, and so doing we indulged in much
friendly intercourse with the various fishermen we met.

Fishing steamers have replaced the old sailboats to a great extent,
and they represent an enormous fishing industry. Our larder was daily
replenished with fresh fish, which was a greatly appreciated item on
our monotonous bill of fare.

One windy evening in August, we captured a Belgian steamer bringing
home coal from Cardiff; the crew having left the ship, the latter was
rapidly sinking, when to our astonishment a man sprang on deck from
below. He had evidently been forgotten and our shot going through the
steamer had warned him of his danger. He hesitated to obey my repeated
orders to jump overboard, until finally encased in two life belts he
plunged into the water and began to swim; but the screw was still
slowly revolving, and he was drawn deep down by the suction of the
water. We had given him up as lost, when we were amazed to see him
reappear on the other side of the ship. The screw, which had slowly
pulled him down, had thrown him up again, and he swam towards us. A
big wave having tossed him onto our low deck, we were glad to find he
was unhurt, and we gave him the best of care. He was a Dutchman, and
after a fortnight spent in our midst, he was so happy he no longer
wished to leave us.

When it came to our sinking of the "Midland Queen" a similar incident
occurred. A negro had been forgotten by his white fellow-countrymen,
and on finding himself abandoned and alone he was so greatly scared
that he did not dare to leave the sinking ship; we watched him, and
beckoned to him to come to us; but he refused, and swore at us
furiously. Presently the "Midland Queen" pitched violently forward,
and stood nearly erect with her nose in the water; then with a shrill
whistling sound she dived below the surface of the waves. The negro's
black head vanished in the turmoil of the waters; then suddenly a
loud detonation occurred; an explosion of compressed air within the
ship threw up, sky-high, barrels and boards, and among them, to our
unbelieving eyes, we saw the wriggling body of the negro. He was
projected into the sea, and swam towards us, apparently none the worse
after this strange and violent experience. We rescued him and handed
him over to his mates, who had rowed back to his assistance.

On our return voyage through the North Sea we met a large sailboat,
with the Swedish flag flying from the topmast. She lay completely
becalmed, and signaled for us to draw near. We saw a large crowd
gathered on her deck, and we approached cautiously, fearing some trap;
when to our joyful surprise we found she had 150 German officers and
sailors on board. They belonged to one of our auxiliary cruisers, the
"Meteor." Her captain after many exploits had been pursued by several
English cruisers, and to save his little vessel from being captured he
had deliberately sent her to the bottom of the sea, and the Swedish
sailboat had picked up the crew. Our shipwrecked comrades told us they
were desperately hungry, but our own provisions were exhausted; so we
took them in tow, for not a breath of wind stirred the sails.

By clear sunshine we merrily covered the short distance to our nearest
port, and towards midday the sailing ship and ourselves let down our
anchors once more off the German coast.



VIII

THE METHOD OF SINKING AND RAISING SHIPS


During the present naval warfare we have had the opportunity to watch
the sinking of ships of every type and size; shortly after receiving
their death wound the vessels usually disappear totally beneath the
surface. It takes even big steamers only between four and ten minutes
to sink, after being hit by a torpedo or shell beneath the water line,
and yet occasionally a ship may float several hours before going down
to the bottom of the sea.

It is clearly evident that the slow or rapid sinking of a ship depends
on the distribution of its bulkheads and water-tight compartments. A
man-of-war, built on the latest models, has a great many small
water-tight compartments, for she is meant to be able to continue
fighting even after several of these compartments have been destroyed;
whereas, an ocean steamer is so constructed that she will remain
afloat only a short time after a collision with another ship, or if
she runs into an iceberg or a derelict, she can endure a certain
intake of water, and lists at a moderate angle far more readily than a
warship, whose guns are rendered nearly useless if the ship is heavily
canting. A warship must be built so as to withstand, without sinking,
the injury caused by a number of gun holes even beneath the water
line, where the inner part of the ship must necessarily be subdivided
into many parts. A warship is built at great cost, but so is an ocean
steamer. The sunken "Lusitania" was worth 35,000,000 marks (nearly
$9,000,000) and the mammoth steamers of the Hamburg-American Line, the
"Imperator," the "Vaterland," were still more expensive to build.

The ordinary commercial steamer often has in her inner construction
only athwartship bulkheads through the double bottom that run from one
side to another and form large partitions; and in proportion to her
height a steamer is again subdivided horizontally into several decks.
But these are not usually water-tight, and the cross bulkheads already
mentioned form the only water-tight divisions in the hold. In the big
cargo spaces, these divisions practically do not exist, and the ship,
throughout almost its whole interior, is open from keel to deck. This
arrangement, of course, facilitates the rapid loading and unloading of
the cargo; therefore, in this type of ship the engine rooms and
boilers, surrounded and protected by coal bunkers, are the only really
water-tight portions of the ship. Whoever has gazed down into the
capacious hold of such a steamer will readily understand that if the
water should pour into one of these spaces, at either end of the ship,
the other end of the vessel would rise steadily upwards. In nearly
every case, even the largest steamer, just before sinking, tilts
abruptly its bow or stern straight up out of the sea, until the water
rushing into the hold draws the vessel downwards, and with a mighty
roar it plunges forever into the deep. We have repeatedly noticed at
this moment that the air within the boat escapes with a shrill whistle
from every possible aperture, and the sound resembles the shriek of a
steam siren. This is a wonderful spectacle to behold!

The velocity with which a ship sinks depends on the size of the hold,
and its distance from the ship's center of gravity, for the suction
occurs more rapidly if the ship is struck at either end than if the
blow is delivered amidships.

We are seldom concerned with ships having empty holds; those we pursue
usually carry heavy cargoes, and therefore the water can only
penetrate within, where space and air exist; whatever air is left
around loosely packed bales and boxes must be driven out before the
water can stream in; certain exceptional cargoes, like wool and
cereals, absorb a given amount of water, but these can be discounted.

    [Illustration: _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._
    BRITISH HOSPITAL SHIP GLOUCESTER CASTLE, SHOWING RED CROSS ON
    BOW, SUNK IN THE ENGLISH CHANNEL BY A GERMAN SUBMARINE]

Accordingly the air must escape through existing holes, as the water
pouring in drives the air into the hold; the pressure with which the
water comes in is equal to the air pressure in the hold. It is quite
conceivable that a cargo may be so closely packed that there will be
no space left for air to escape, but this is hardly ever the case;
frequently, however, the cross-sections of the air vents are so small
that the air escapes only very slowly, and the water enters very
slowly in the same ratio; under these conditions it would take a long
time for a ship to sink. This undoubtedly is very desirable in peace
time, but in time of war this is not at all agreeable to our purpose;
first, if the foundering of the vessel is prolonged we are prevented
from accomplishing other work, and secondly, warships may come to the
assistance of a sinking steamer.

Whenever possible we found it expedient to break open with an axe big
holes in the lockers in case the hatch could not be quickly enough
removed; or, if circumstances did not permit of our doing this, we
shot holes with our cannon into the upper part of the steamer, above
the hold, so that the air might conveniently escape and the water rush
in. We employed, with excellent results, this method in the sinking of
many steamers which otherwise would have settled too slowly.

It happens sometimes that a ship may carry a cargo that floats and
that is not porous, such as wood. It is impossible to sink a vessel
with such a cargo by admitting water into the hold. Shots therefore
must be fired at the engine and boiler rooms to force this kind of a
steamer to sink. In general this is a safe rule to follow, for these
are always the most vulnerable portions of every heavily laden vessel,
and this mode of attack is nearly invariably successful.

A warship is usually equipped with cross or lateral bulkheads, in
addition to the longitudinal bulkhead that runs from stem to stern
through the middle of the ship, dividing it into halves, and other
bulkheads separate these two longitudinal sections into further
subdivisions. With the exception of the great fast passenger steamers,
these divisions by means of longitudinal bulkheads seldom exist on
vessels of commerce, although exceptions are to be found.

The sinking of a steamer with a multitude of partitions is effected by
its gradually listing more and more on the side in which the water is
penetrating, until it capsizes completely and founders with the keel
uppermost. A ship can also roll over on its side as it plunges
downwards with stem or stern erect.

Theoretically a vessel might sink on a parallel keel, descending
horizontally deeper and deeper into the sea; but it never occurs in
reality. This hypothesis assumes that a ship has taken in at the bow
exactly the same amount of water as at the stern, at exactly the same
distance from the center of gravity; this, of course, is impossible;
besides the holes through which the water is pouring in must also be
at precisely the same level, or else the water pressure would be
greater at one end than at the other, and the slightest alteration of
level would occasion a greater intake of water and upset the
equilibrium of the boat.

There is one other point I will touch upon; it has often been
asserted, especially in romances of the ocean, that as a ship sinks
the suction creates a tremendous whirlpool which engulfs all things in
its vicinity. This statement is naturally very much exaggerated.
People swimming about may be drawn down by the suction of the
foundering ship, but in my opinion no lifeboat which is well manned is
in danger of this whirlpool. Even old sailors, deluded by this
superstition, have rowed away in haste from a sinking ship, when they
might have stood by and saved many lives.

The question is now often being put, whether it will be possible to
raise the vessels that have been sunk during the war. The raising of a
ship depends above all upon whether the depth at which it lies is so
great that it precludes the work of a diver.

I have already stated that the water pressure augments at the rate of
one atmosphere (one kilogram to the square centimeter) to ten meters'
increase of depth. If a diver working at ten meters' depth is under a
pressure of one atmosphere, at fifty meters he will be under the
tremendous pressure of five atmospheres. This is the greatest depth to
which a diver can attain, and if by chance a diver has gone a few
meters beyond fifty meters, no man to my knowledge has attained sixty
meters. The work of divers at a depth of forty or fifty meters is even
then not very effective, as they are unable to perform heavy tasks,
nor can they remain more than half an hour at a time under such a
pressure, and I am speaking now only of experts; therefore only light
and easy work can be performed by most divers at a great depth and the
appliance of ponderous chains for lifting purposes can only be
accomplished under unusually favorable conditions. To raise any ship
at a depth above thirty meters must be considered as a very efficient
job, whereas if this is attempted at a depth below thirty meters it
can be done only by salvage companies where neither unfavorable bottom
obstacles nor currents intervene. A strong current renders a diver's
work impossible, for it carries him off his feet.

On the high seas the currents change with the ebb and flood. At the
precise moment of the turn of the tide the undercurrent is supposed to
be nil, and the diver must take advantage of this moment to perform
his task. Another difficulty arises from the sand being shifted by the
currents, and settling on the prominent parts of a wreck; it often
envelops them to such a degree that the ship becomes so deeply
embedded in the sand that it is no longer salvable.

According to my estimation eighty per cent of our enemy's sunken ships
lie from fifty to a hundred meters below the surface of the sea, so
that all possibility of their being raised is excluded. The largest
ships nowadays have a draft of less than ten meters, and as the
vessels sunk lie at far greater depths they are no source of danger to
shipping in time of peace. Of the remaining twenty per cent of sunken
ships half of them are unreclaimable, either owing to their position,
or owing to the high cost of salvage, or because it is not even known
where they lie. The other half or last ten per cent have probably for
the greater part been sunk in channels where the currents are so swift
that they are covered with sand, and diving enterprises are out of the
question. In time of war such work cannot be thought of; after the war
the ships will long since have been completely buried by the sand.

Maybe off the east coast of England one or two ships may be raised,
for they lie at a lesser depth and are exposed to slighter currents
than on the south coast of England, but in that district only the
smaller and more insignificant vessels have been sunk, and it would
hardly pay to raise them, especially as they are so damaged by
torpedoes and mines that they would probably fall apart on being
raised to the surface.

Therefore hardly a single ship will be salvaged, and the sea will
retain all those ships it has swallowed in the course of this war
carried on by all the nations of the earth.


THE END

The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
U . S . A

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    | Page 134: salvable (adj.) means that can be salvaged      |
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ERRATUM

In Introduction, page xxi, line 6 from the bottom, for "1915" read
"1916."

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