TERROR OF PACIFIC

Taranaki Central Press, Volume IV, Issue 387, 19 March 1937, Page 2

TERROR OF PACIFIC

CRUISER EMDEN. World War Days Recalled. Rear Admiral Robert Witthoeft, of the German Navy. The German cruiser Emden was the terror of the Pacific and Indian Oceans during the early months of the World War, states Rear-Admiral Robert Witthoeft, of the German Navy, writing, in the “Readers’ Digest..’’ Operating alone and without a >ase, and with half the world igainst her, she harried Allied shipping in one of the most daring sea raids of all time. Starting from China, where she was stationed when war was declared in August, 1914, the Emden blocked the transportation of Anzac troops to France, shelled British oil reserves at Madras, and sank some 15,00,000 dollars worth of shipping, after first removing noncombatant crews. In one typical raid she crept at dawn Into the harbour of Penang and blew up a Russian cruiser with a. sudden hail of shells that gave the doomed crew not even a chance to fight. But on November 9th, 1914, she was surprised to turn. White putting a. landing party ashore to destroy a British cable station on Direction Island, Captain von Miller of the JEmden sighted a hostile cruiser approaching. One of the Emden’s officers here describes what followed: The Bugle Blared. There was a tramping of feet as men rushed to their.battle stations. Gun breaches banged. Then order and silence reigned as the Emden steamed out to meet the enemy. “It looks like the ‘Newcastle,’ ” said the captain as he squinted through the slit in the conning tower. “That’s not so bad. She may have a little more power than we—but I've got the Emden’s crew! Full speed ahead."

We were the first to open fire, at about 10,000 yards on the course parallel with the mysterious British cruiser. Our third salvo struck her upper works and sent up a cloud of black smoke. “First blood!” Gunnery Officer Gaede yelled. “We’ve got their range. Now let them have it.” Meanwhile, there was a flash of orange flame from the other ship as they gave up their broadside. We could actually pick up the shells as they came towards us; looking like so many bluebottle flies. They seemed to waver as they neared, and then we lost them as they moaned over us. Soon, however, great geysers began rising out of the sea so close to ns that they brought tons of water crashing down on our deck. “We’re in for trouble,” Captain von Muller said quietly. “Those splashes are from a much heavier ship than I had thought.” He turned to the navigating officer. “Closer, Gropius, closer,” he ordered. And the Emden edged over toward the enemy to reduce the range. Under the clouds of yellowish smoke that billowed above her I saw our shells striking home time after time, but meanwhile her shots were getting uncomfortably near us. Then with a crash the first shell came aboard us and burst in the wireless cabin. Instantly nothing was left but Its twisted white-hot steel frame. Our faithful operators, who had for so long 'been our only link with the outside world, were destroyed*

Wireless Cabin Hit. Immediately thereafter a shell burst with an appalling noise directly in front of the conning tower. For the next few seconds everything was strangely silent. We missed the rapid bark of the forward gun, but in its place came the groaning of the wounded and dying. It was a frightful mess out there. Gaede called up a. reserve crew, and the captain repeated his order: “Closer, Gropius, closer!” But already we knew that we did not have a chance. They would run out as we tried to close in, and then with their longer range guns they would pound us unmercifully. The battle became a nightmare to me. Lieutenant Zimmerman, seeing that there was more trouble with the forecastle gun, dashed forward from the conning tower. Just as he arrived an explosion kilted him and every man at the gun. That same shell got the captain and myself, but only slightly. The forward smokestack was hit and collapsed. . The foremast came down and slid off into the sea, carrying with it the foremast crew. Gropius dashed aft to see what was wrong with the rudder. There was now a slackening in our rate of gunlire, and Gaede left the conning tower to find out why. He hadn’t, gone far before a shell got him and he fell dying to the deck, his white uniform drenched with blood. Our two remaining stacks were hit and took a cockeyed tilt. Suddenly there was a ghastly concussion somewhere amidships as the deck folded up and buckled. A broadside gun hurtled up into the air. Men, steel places, mess benches, and great splinters could be seen in the flying mass of debris. Everything seemed on fire at once. Gropius was caught aft with the few survivors from the poop gun. Intent on what they were doing, they didn’t notice that the flames were eating their way aft until a solid wall of fire confronted them. They tried to break through by going to a lower deck, but down there it was like some terrible furnace. Step by step they were huddled together on the very stern. Swiftly the flames rushed at them; they knew the end was at hand. Gropius ted three cheers for our Fatherland. But before they had finished a shell hit near by and they were all blown overboard.

Gun Crews Wiped Out. Up in the conning tower Captain von Muller and I were now alone. Our guns were silent; our ammunition exhausted. Our ship was without a rudder. ‘lt's no use going on, Witthoeft,” the captain said. “This is nothing but slaughter. I must save what men I can, and. yet I won’t let them have my ship. See, there Is North Keeling Island dead ahead. I’m going to try to put her there high and dry.” While the British fairly poured their shells into us, we rushed full speed for the beach. We signalled the en-gine-room force to climb to safety. With a tearing impact the Emden slipped in between two large coral reefs and there, about 190 yards offshore, our ship came to rest, a burning, sinking charnel house. Our cruise was ended. - Captain Von Muller told those of us who had collected around him on the upper deck that we might try- to swim ashore if we wished. A few tried but only live of them reached the beach. The others were crushed on the reef. The captain ordered all survivors up to the comparative safety of the forecastle. Half the officers were dead. The deck and gun crews were almost entirely, wiped out. The en-gine-room and fire-room crews now made up most of our little band. Some of us went below to look for

the wounded. Of all the experiences of my life, that was the most ghastly and crushing. Here and there a single candle spluttered, but it only added to the horror. The stench of burning hammocks and burned human flesli nauseated us. Bodies, or what had been bodies, lay strewn about the guns and in the passageways. The mutilation of the dead was beyond belief. AH was silent below decks, excepting the steady muffled roar and crackling □f the flames. On the forecastle the condition of the wounded was pitiful. They cried for water, but the tanks had been shot away. As though our afflictions were not enough, a number of vicious- sea birds settled down on the deck. As we left one helpless wounded man to go to another, they would rush at him and tear at his eyes or at his wounds. We tried to beat, them back with clubs. Never having seen any men before, they were without fear of us. Our situation was becoming unbearable and the shore seemed such a little way to go—only 300 feet. Our boats had been blown to bits or burned. We tried floating light lines attached to boxes to the men who had -reached shore, but every attempt tailed. Meanwhile, the enemy—we later learned it was the Australian cruiser “Sydney”—had steamed away to capture our landing party on Direction Island. We settled down to a night of hell, surrounded by our wounded shinmates for whom we could do nothing, all of us threatened with a fiery death ftom the still raging flames. At dawn we started our second day of torture. Many of the wounded were delirious. It was agreed if the “Sydney” didn’t return we would all be lost. In the afternoon, however, the “Sydney” was sighted. Good. Our wounded would have their chance. We thought the British were going to rescue us. But suddenly salvo after salvo came from the cruiser. Shells plowed into the stricken Edmen and exploded. Fires again sprang up everywhere. I saw a stoker sink down on the deck, a shell splinter driven into the back of his head. Another lad screamed in agony.

The Stricken Emden. The captain again gave permission to jump overboard. / Again a few tried it, only to be crushed on the reef. The captain, however, stood there among his men. His face showed that he was carrying the pain and suffering of all those about him. He looked at the enemy, and I believe that for an instant a look of supreme contempt passed over him countenance. Then he ordered that the German . ensign be hauled down and a white flag hoisted. The firing ceased immediately. Later, two cutters were sent to us and the officer in charge stated that the Emden’s crew would be taken aboard the Sydney” if Captain von Muller would give his word that none of his men would commit any unfriendly act. iA boat was sent for the handful of men who had landed. They were brought back half mad from thirst and hunger. There had been neither water nor food on the island. On the ‘Sydney” the British sailors were all kindness. Our wounded were rushed to the operating room. Highballs revived us and we tasted the first food we had in. over 36 hours. That night our hosts, or captors, laid before us a wireless message containing editorial comment on the destruction of our ship. The London Telegraph said: “It Is almost in our hearts to regret that the Emden has been destroyed.” In the 20 years that have passed, the verdict of the world has not changed, and the Emden has .earned a niche in the hall of immortal ships.