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Various - The New York Times Current History of the European War, Vol 1, Issue 4, January 23, 1915

V >> Various >> The New York Times Current History of the European War, Vol 1, Issue 4, January 23, 1915




A large crowd of British and other residents and Samoans had gathered.
In the background were groups of Chinese coolies, gazing wonderingly
upon the scene. The balconies of the adjoining buildings were crowded
with British and Samoans. Only the Germans were conspicuous by their
absence. With undisguised feelings of sadness they had seen their own
flag hauled down the day before. Naturally they had no desire to witness
the flag of the rival nation going up in its place.

A few minutes before 8 o'clock all was ready. Two bluejackets and a
naval Lieutenant stood with the flag, awaiting the signal. The first gun
of the royal salute from the Psyche boomed out across the bay. Then
slowly, to the booming of twenty-one guns, the flag was hoisted to the
summit of the staff, the officers, with drawn swords, silently watching
it go up. With the sound of the last gun it reached the top of the
flagstaff [Transcriber: original 'fliagstaff'] and fluttered out in the
southeast trade wind above the tall palms of Upolo.

There was a sharp order from the officer commanding the expedition, and
the troops came to the royal salute. The national anthem--never more
fervently sung--and three rousing cheers for King George followed.

Then came the reading of the proclamation by Col. Logan, the troops
formed up again, and, to the music of the, band of the Fifth Regiment,
marched back to quarters.




*How the Cressy Sank*

*By Edgar Rowan of The London Daily Chronicle.*


MUIDEN, Holland, Sept. 23.--(Dispatch to The London Daily
Chronicle.)--When the history of this war comes to be written we shall
put no black borders, as men without pride or hope, around the story of
the loss of the cruisers Aboukir, Cressy, and Hogue. We shall write it
in letters of gold, for the plain, unvarnished tale of those last
moments, when the cruisers went down, helpless before a hidden foe,
ranks among the countless deeds of quiet, unseen, unconscious heroism
that make up the navy's splendid pages.

It is easy to learn all that happened, for the officers want chiefly to
tell how splendidly brave the men were, and the men pay a like tribute
to the officers. The following appears to be a main outline of the
disaster:

The three cruisers had for some time been patrolling the North Sea. Soon
after 6 o'clock Tuesday morning--there is disagreement as to the exact
time--the Aboukir suddenly felt a shock on the port side. A dull
explosion was heard and a column of water was thrown up mast high. The
explosion wrecked the stokehole just forward of amidship and, judging by
the speed with which the cruiser sank, tore the bottom open.

Almost immediately the doomed cruiser began to settle. Except for the
watch on deck, most of her crew, were asleep, wearied by constant vigil
in bad weather, but in perfect order officers and men rushed to
quarters. Quickfirers were manned in the hope of a dying shot at a
submarine, but there was not a glimpse of one. Of the few boats carried
when cleared for action, two were smashed in recent gales and another
was wrecked by the explosion.

The Aboukir's sister cruisers, each more than a mile away, saw and heard
the explosion. They thought the Aboukir had been struck by a mine. They
closed in and lowered boats. This sealed their own fate, for while they
were standing by to rescue survivors, first the Hogue and then the
Cressy was torpedoed.

The Cressy appears to have seen the submarines in time to attempt to
retaliate. She fired a few shots before she keeled over, broken in two,
and sank. Whether she sank any submarines is not known.

The men of the Aboukir afloat in the water hoped for everything from the
arrival of her sister cruisers, and all survivors agree that when these
also sank many gave up the struggle for life and went down. An officer
told me that when swimming, after having lost his jacket in the grip of
a drowning man, his chief thought was that the Germans had succeeded in
sinking only three comparatively obsolete cruisers which shortly would
have been scrapped anyway.

Twenty-four men were saved on a target which floated off the Hogue's
deck. The men were gathered on it for four hours waist deep in water.

The rescued officers unite in praising the skill and daring of the
German naval officers, and, far from bearing any grudge, they have
nothing but professional praise for the submarines' feat.

"Our only grievance," one said, "is that we did not have a shot at the
Germans. Our only share in the war has been a few uncomfortable weeks of
bad weather, mines, and submarines."

When I entered the billiard room of the hotel here sheltering survivors
and asked if any British officers were there, several unshaven men in
the khaki working kit of the Dutch Army or in fishermen's jerseys got up
from their chairs. Most of them had been saved in their pajamas, and
they had to accept the first things in the way of clothing offered by
the kindly Dutch. One Lieutenant apologized for closing the window, as
he had only a thin jacket over his pajamas. He gladly accepted the loan
of my overcoat while making a list of his men who had been saved.

While the survivors are technically prisoners in this neutral country,
to be interned until the end of the war, Muiden steadfastly refuses to
regard them as other than honored guests. The soldiers posted before
every building where officers or men are sheltered seem to be guards of
honor rather than prison warders, and every one in the place is
competing for the honor of lending clothes, running errands, or offering
cigars for the survivors.

When the Dutch steamer Flora arrived with survivors last night, flying
her flag at half-mast and signaling for a doctor, the Red Cross
authorities and the British Vice Consul, Mr. Rigorsberg, at once set the
machinery in motion, and soon the officers were settled in hotels and
the men were divided among a hospital, a church, and a young men's
institute.

I saw one bluejacket asleep covered with a white ensign. He had snatched
it up before diving overboard. He held it in his teeth while in the
water and refused to part with it when rescued. He is now prepared to
fight any one who may attempt to steal this last relic of his ship.

One survivor says that an English fishing boat also was sunk by the
submarines, but the story is not confirmed.

For hours Capt. Voorham of the Flora and Capt. Berkhout of the Titan,
caring nothing for risks of mines and submarines, cruised over the scene
of the disaster, and the gallant Dutch seamen were rewarded by the
rescue of 400 survivors.

Capt. Voorham, who landed all the survivors at Muiden, says:

"We left Rotterdam early Tuesday. In the North Sea we saw a warship,
which proved to be the Cressy. Not long afterward I saw her keel over,
break in two and disappear. Our only thought then was to save as many
survivors as possible. When we got to the spot where she disappeared
boats approached us and we began to get the men in them aboard. It was a
very difficult undertaking, as the survivors were exhausted and we were
rolling heavily.

"We also lowered our own boats and picked up many from the wreckage. All
were practically naked and some were so exhausted that they had to be
hauled aboard with tackle. Each as he recovered at once turned to help
my small crew to save others. Later I saw the Titan approaching and
signaled for help.

"One man was brought aboard with his legs broken. It was touching to see
how tenderly his mates handled him.

"Presently the British destroyers approached. A survivor on my ship
signaled with his arms that he was on a friendly ship, and the warships
passed on.

"Among those saved were two doctors, who worked hard to help the
exhausted men. One man died after they had tried artificial respiration
for an hour.

"My men collected all the clothes and blankets on board and gave them to
the survivors, and the cook was busy getting hot coffee and other food
for my large party of guests.

"By 11:30 we had picked up all the survivors we could see. Soon after we
saw German submarines, and, thinking it best to get to the nearest port,
called here."

Remember that Capt. Voorham had only a comparatively small ship and a
crew of only seventeen and realize the splendid work he did.

[Illustration]




*German Story of the Heligoland Fight*

[Special Correspondence of THE NEW YORK TIMES.]


LONDON, Sept. 8.--Copies of the Berliner Tageblatt have been received
here containing the German account of the recent naval battle off
Heligoland between British and German vessels.

"Regarding the sinking of torpedo boat V-187," says the Tageblatt
account, "an eyewitness says the small craft fought heroically to the
bitter end against overwhelming odds. Quite unexpectedly the V-187 was
attacked by a flotilla of English destroyers coming from the north.
Hardly had the first shot been fired when more hostile destroyers, also
submarines, arrived and surrounded the German craft.

"The V-187, on which, in addition to the commander, was the flotilla
chief, Capt. Wallis, defended itself to the utmost, but the steering
gear was put out of business by several shots, and thus it was
impossible to withdraw from the enemy. When the commander saw there was
no further hope, the vessel was blown up so as not to fall into the
enemy's hands. But even while she sank the guns not put out of action
continued to be worked by the crew till the ship was swallowed up in the
waves. The flotilla commander, as well as Commander Lechler, was lost,
besides many of the crew.

"The enemy deserves the greatest credit for their splendid rescue work.
The English sailors, unmindful of their own safety, went about it in
heroic fashion.

"Boats were put out from the destroyers to save the survivors. While
this rescue work was still under way stronger German forces approached,
causing the English torpedo boats to withdraw, abandoning the small
rescue boats which they had put out, and those who had been saved were
now taken from the English boats aboard our ships.

"When the thunder of the guns showed the enemy was near and engaged with
our torpedo boats, the small armored cruiser Ariadne steamed out to take
part in the scrap. As the Ariadne neared the outpost vessels it was
observed that various of our lighter units were fighting with the
English, which later, however, appeared to be escaping toward the west.

"The long-suppressed keenness for fighting could not be gainsaid and the
Ariadne pursued, although the fog made it impossible to estimate the
strength of the enemy. Presently, not far from the Ariadne, two hostile
cruisers loomed out of the mist--two dreadnought battle cruisers of
30,000 tons' displacement, armed with eight 13.5-inch guns. What could
the Ariadne, of 2,650 tons and armed with ten 4-inch guns, do against
those two Goliath ships?

"At the start of this unequal contest a shot struck the forward boiler
room of the Ariadne and put half of her boilers out of business,
lowering her speed by fifteen miles. Nevertheless, and despite the
overwhelming superiority of the English, the fight lasted half an hour.
The stern of the Ariadne was in flames, but the guns on her foredeck
continued to be worked.

"But the fight was over. The enemy disappeared to the westward. The crew
of the Ariadne, now gathered on the foredeck, true to the navy's
traditions, broke into three hurrahs for the War Lord, Kaiser Wilhelm.
Then, to the singing of 'Deutschland Ueber Alles,' the sinking, burning
ship was abandoned in good order. Two of our ships near by picked up the
Ariadne's crew. Presently the Ariadne disappeared under the waves after
the stern powder magazine had exploded.

"The first officer, surgeon, chief engineer, and seventy men were lost.
In addition, many were wounded."




*The Sinking of the Cressy and the Hogue*

*By the Senior Surviving Officers--Commander Bertram W.L. Nicholson and
Commander Reginald A. Norton.*

[By the Associated Press.]


LONDON, Sept. 25.--The report to the Admiralty on the sinking of the
Cressy, signed by Bertram W.L. Nicholson, Commander of the late H.M.S.
Cressy, follows:

"Sir: I have the honor to submit the following report in connection with
the sinking of H.M.S. Cressy, in company with H.M.S. Aboukir and Hogue,
on the morning of the 22d of September, while on patrol duty:

"The Aboukir was struck at about 6:25 A.M. on the starboard beam. The
Hogue and Cressy closed and took up a position, the Hogue ahead of the
Aboukir, and the Cressy about 400 yards on her port beam. As soon as it
was seen that the Aboukir was in danger of sinking all the boats were
sent away from the Cressy, and a picket boat was hoisted out without
steam up. When cutters full of the Aboukir's men were returning to the
Cressy the Hogue was struck, apparently under the aft 9.2 magazine, as a
very heavy explosion took place immediately. Almost directly after the
Hogue was hit we observed a periscope on our port bow about 300 yards
off.

"Fire was immediately opened and the engines were put full speed ahead
with the intention of running her down. Our gunner, Mr. Dougherty,
positively asserts that he hit the periscope and that the submarine
sank. An officer who was standing alongside the gunner thinks that the
shell struck only floating timber, of which there was much about, but it
was evidently the impression of the men on deck, who cheered and clapped
heartily, that the submarine had been hit. This submarine did not fire a
torpedo at the Cressy.

"Capt. Johnson then manoeuvred the ship so as to render assistance to
the crews of the Hogue and Aboukir. About five minutes later another
periscope was seen on our starboard quarter and fire was opened. The
track of the torpedo she fired at a range of 500 to 600 yards was
plainly visible and it struck us on the starboard side just before the
afterbridge.

"The ship listed about 10 degrees to the starboard and remained steady.
The time was 7:15 A.M. All the watertight doors, deadlights and scuttles
had been securely closed before the torpedo struck the ship. All the
mess stools and table shores, and all available timber below and on
deck, had been previously got up and thrown over side for the saving of
life.

"A second torpedo fired by the same submarine missed and passed about 10
feet astern. About a quarter of an hour after the first torpedo had hit
a third torpedo fired from a submarine just before the starboard beam
hit us under the No. 5 boiler room. The time was 7:30 A.M. The ship then
began to heel rapidly, and finally turned keel up, remaining so for
about twenty minutes before she finally sank, at 7:55 A.M.

"A large number of men were saved by casting adrift on Pattern 3 target.
The steam pinnace floated off her clutches, but filled and sank.

"The second torpedo which struck the Cressy passed over the sinking hull
of the Aboukir, narrowly missing it. It is possible that the same
submarine fired all three torpedoes at the Cressy.

"The conduct of the crew was excellent throughout. I have already
remarked on the bravery displayed by Capt. Phillips, master of the
trawler L.T. Coriander, and his crew, who picked up 156 officers and
men."

The report to the Admiralty of Commander Reginald A. Norton, late of
H.M.S. Hogue, follows:

"I have the honor to report as follows concerning the sinking of the
Hogue, Aboukir, and Cressy: Between 6:15 and 6:30 A.M., H.M.S. Aboukir
was struck by a torpedo. The Hogue closed on the Aboukir and I received
orders to hoist out the launch, turn out and prepare all boats, and
unlash all timber on the upper deck.

"Two lifeboats were sent to the Aboukir, but before the launch could get
away the Hogue was struck on the starboard side amidships by two
torpedoes at intervals of ten to twenty seconds. The ship at once began
to heel to starboard. After ordering the men to provide themselves with
wood, hammocks, &c., and to get into the boats on the booms and take off
their clothes, I went, by Capt. Nicholson's direction, to ascertain the
damage done in the engine room. The artificer engineer informed me that
the water was over the engine-room gratings.

"While endeavoring to return to the bridge the water burst open the
starboard entry port doors and the ship heeled rapidly. I told the men
in the port battery to jump overboard, as the launch was close
alongside, and soon afterward the ship lurched heavily to starboard.

"I clung to a ringbolt for some time, but eventually was dropped on to
the deck, and a huge wave washed me away. I climbed up the ship's side
and again was washed off. Eventually, after swimming about from various
overladen pieces of wreckage, I was picked up by a cutter from the
Hogue, Coxswain L.S. Marks, which pulled about for some hours, picking
up men and discharging them to our picket boat and steam pinnace and to
the Dutch steamers Flora and Titan, and rescued, in this way, Commander
Sells of the Aboukir, Engineer Commander Stokes, (with legs broken,)
Fleet Paymaster Eldred, and about 120 others.

"Finally, about 11 A.M., when we could find no more men in the water, we
were picked up by the Lucifier, which proceeded to the Titan and took
off from her all our men except about twenty who were too ill to be
moved.

"A Lowestoft trawler and the two Dutch ships Flora and Titan were
extraordinarily kind, clothing and feeding our men. My boat's crew,
consisting mainly of Royal Navy Reserve men, pulled and behaved
remarkably well. I particularly wish to mention Petty Officer Halton,
who, by encouraging the men in the water near me, undoubtedly saved many
lives.

"Lieut. Commander Phillips-Wolley, after hoisting out the launch, asked
me if we should try to hoist out another boat, and endeavored to do so.
The last I saw of him was on the after bridge, doing well.

"Lieut. Commander Tillard was picked up by a launch. He got up a
cutter's crew and saved many lives, as did Midshipman Cazalet in the
Cressy's gig. Lieut. Chichester turned out the whaler very quickly.

"A Dutch sailing trawler sailed close by, but went off without rendering
any assistance [Transcriber: original 'asistance'], although we signaled
to her from the Hogue to close after we were struck.

"The Aboukir appeared to me to take about thirty-five minutes to sink,
floating bottom up for about five minutes. The Hogue turned turtle very
quickly--in about five minutes--and floated bottom up for several
minutes. A dense black smoke was seen in the starboard battery, whether
from coal or torpedo cordite I could not say. The upper deck was not
blown up, and only one other small explosion occurred and we heeled
over.

"The Cressy I watched heel over from the cutter. She heeled over to
starboard very slowly, dense black smoke issuing from her when she
attained an angle of about 90 degrees, and she took a long time from
this angle till she floated bottom up with the starboard screw slightly
out of water. I consider it was thirty-five to forty-five minutes from
the time she was struck till she was bottom up.

"All the men on the Hogue behaved extraordinarily [Transcriber: original
'extraordinarly'] well, obeying orders even when in the water swimming
for their lives, and I witnessed many cases of great self-sacrifice and
gallantry. Farmstone, an able seaman of the Hogue, jumped overboard from
the launch to make room for others, and would not avail himself of
assistance until all the men near by were picked up. He was in the water
about half an hour.

"There was no panic of any sort, the men taking off their clothes as
ordered and falling in with hammock or wood. Capt. Nicholson, in our
other cutter, as usual, was perfectly cool and rescued large numbers of
men. I last saw him alongside the Flora. Engineer Commander Stokes, I
believe, was in the engine room to the last, and Engineer Lieut.
Commander Fendick got steam on the boat hoist and worked it in five
minutes.

"I have the honor to submit that I may be appointed to another ship as
soon as I can get a kit."




*The Sinking of the Hawke*

[By a Correspondent of The London Daily Chronicle.]


ABERDEEN, Scotland, Oct. 16.--The British cruiser Hawke was sunk in the
North Sea yesterday by a German submarine, and of her crew of 400
officers and men only 73 are known to have been saved.

The cruiser Theseus, a sister ship of the Hawke, was attacked by the
same submarine, but escaped because she obeyed the Admiralty's
instructions and looked to her own safety instead of rushing to the aid
of the Hawke's perishing crew.

A survivor of the Hawke gives the following description of the disaster:
"Within eight minutes the Hawke had gone under. Had the ship gone down
forward or aft there would have been some chance for us to get the boats
out and clear of the cruiser, but she keeled over on her beam ends, and
so of all boats we lowered those on the starboard side were useless, and
those on the port side were crushed as soon as they touched the water.

"I was proud to be among such comrades. Everything was absolutely in
perfect order. When the ship was struck a fearful explosion followed,
and grime and dust were everywhere. I was amidships at the time, and
could hardly see to grope my way to the ship's side. I heard orders
given to lower the boats, and then some one shouted, 'Look after
yourselves!' So I did that.

"Most of the men on board were married men. We saw hundreds in the
water, but we were afraid to pick them up as our boat was already
overcrowded. So we threw our lifebelts to them. It was all we could do.

"The weather was bitter cold, and I do not think that many, apart from
those who were landed at Aberdeen, were saved."

Here is the statement of a rescued stoker: "When the explosion occurred
I, along with others who were in the engine room, was sent flying into
space and was stunned for a time. When I came to my senses I found
myself in the midst of what must be described as an absolute inferno.
One of the cylinders of the engine had been completely wrecked, and
steam was passing out in dense, scalding clouds. The horror of the
situation was increased when a tank of oil fuel caught fire, and the
flames advanced with frightful rapidity.

"Seeing that there was not a ghost of a chance of doing any good by
remaining in what was obviously a deathtrap, I determined to make a dash
for it, and I scrambled up an iron ladder to the main deck. All this had
happened in less time than it takes to tell it, but such is British
pluck, coolness, and nerve even in such a situation that the commander
and other officers were on the bridge, and as calmly as if we were on
fleet manoeuvres the orders were given and as calmly obeyed.

"The buglers sounded a stiff call which summoned every man to remain at
his post. During the first minute or two many of us believed all that
was wrong was a boiler explosion, but the rapidity with which the
cruiser was making water on the starboard side quickly disabused all our
minds of this belief. Realizing the actual situation, the commander gave
orders to close all the watertight doors. Soon after that came orders to
abandon the ship and get out the boats.

"One cutter was being launched from the port side, but the Hawke at that
moment heeled over before the boat could be got clear, and the cutter
lurched against the cruiser's side and stove in one or two of her
planks. As the Hawke went down a small pinnace and a raft which had been
prepared for such an emergency floated free, but such was the onrush of
men who had been thrown into the water that both were overcrowded. On
the raft were about seventy men knee deep in water, and the pinnace also
appeared to be overfilled.

"When those who managed to make their way into the cutter, which was
also in grave danger of being overturned, caught the last glimpse of
these two craft they were in a precarious condition. The cutter moved
around the wreck, picking up as many survivors as the boat would hold.
All those aboard her who had put on lifebelts took them off and threw
them to their comrades who were struggling in the water. Oars and other
movable woodwork also were pitched overboard to help those clinging to
the wreckage, many of whom were seen to sink."




*The Emden's Last Fight*

[By the Cable Operator at Cocos Islands.]


KEELING, Cocos Islands, Nov. 12, (Dispatch to The London Daily
Chronicle.)--It was early on Monday that the unexpected arrival of the
German cruiser Emden broke the calm of these isolated little islands,
which the distant news of the war had hitherto left unruffled. One of
the islands is known as Direction Island, and here the Eastern Telegraph
Company has a cable station and a staff engaged in relaying messages
between Europe and Australia. Otherwise the inhabitants are all Malays,
with the exception of the descendants of June Clunies Ross, a British
naval officer who came to these islands ninety years ago and founded the
line of "Uncrowned Kings."

The war seemed to be very far away. The official bulletins passed
through the cable station, but they gave us very little real news, and
the only excitement was when it was rumored that the company was sending
out rifles in case of a raid on the stations, and orders came that the
beach must be patrolled by parties on the lookout for Germans. Then we
heard from Singapore that a German cruiser had been dispatched to these
islands, and toward the end of August one of the cable staff thought he
saw searchlights out over the sea. Then suddenly we were awakened from
our calm and were made to feel that we had suddenly become the most
important place in the whole worldwide war area.

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