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

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At 6 o'clock on Monday morning a four-funneled cruiser arrived at full
speed at the entrance to the lagoon. Our suspicions were aroused, for
she was flying no flag and her fourth funnel was obviously a dummy made
of painted canvas. Therefore we were not altogether surprised at the
turn of events. The cruiser at once lowered away an armored launch and
two boats, which came ashore and landed on Coral Beach three officers
and forty men, all fully armed and having four Maxim guns.

The Germans--for all doubt about the mysterious cruiser was now at
end--at once rushed up to the cable station, and, entering the office,
turned out the operators, smashed the instruments, and set armed guards
over all the buildings. All the knives and firearms found in possession
of the cable staff were at once confiscated.

I should say here that, in spite of the excitement on the outside, all
the work was carried on in the cable office as usual right up to the
moment when the Germans burst in. A general call was sent out just
before the wireless apparatus was blown up.

The whole of the staff was placed under an armed guard while the
instruments were being destroyed, but it is only fair to say that the
Germans, working in well-disciplined fashion under their officers, were
most civil. There was no such brutality as we hear characterizes the
German Army's behavior toward civilians, and there were no attempts at
pillaging.

While the cable station was being put out of action the crew of the
launch grappled for the cables and endeavored to cut them, but
fortunately without success. The electrical stores were then blown up.

At 9 A.M. we heard the sound of a siren from the Emden, and this was
evidently the signal to the landing party to return to the ship, for
they at once dashed for the boats, but the Emden got under way at once
and the boats were left behind.

Looking to the eastward, we could see the reason for this sudden
departure, for a warship, which we afterward learned was the Australian
cruiser Sydney, was coming up at full speed in pursuit. The Emden did
not wait to discuss matters, but, firing her first shot at a range of
about 3,700 yards, steamed north as hard as she could go.

At first the firing of the Emden seemed excellent, while that of the
Sydney was somewhat erratic. This, as I afterward learned, was due to
the fact that the Australian cruiser's range-finder was put out of
action by one of the only two shots the Germans got home. However, the
British gunners soon overcame any difficulties that this may have caused
and settled down to their work, so that before long two of the Emden's
funnels had been shot away. She also lost one of her masts quite early
in the fight. Both blazing away with their big guns, the two cruisers
disappeared below the horizon, the Emden being on fire.

After the great naval duel passed from our sight and we could turn our
attention to the portion of the German crew that had been left behind,
we found that these men had put off in their boats obedient to the
signal of the siren, but when their ship steamed off without them they
could do nothing else but come ashore again. On relanding they lined up
on the shore of the lagoon, evidently determined to fight to the finish
if the British cruiser sent a party ashore, but the dueling cruiser had
disappeared, and at 6 P.M. the German raiders embarked on the old
schooner Ayessa, which belongs to Mr. Ross, the "uncrowned king" of the
islands. Seizing a quantity of clothes and stores, they sailed out, and
have not been seen since.

Early the next morning, Tuesday, Nov. 10, we saw the Sydney returning,
and at 8:45 A.M. she anchored off the island. From various members of
the crew I gathered some details of the running fight with the Emden.
The Sydney, having an advantage in speed, was able to keep out of range
of the Emden's guns and to bombard her with her own heavier metal. The
engagement lasted eighty minutes, the Emden finally running ashore on
North Keeling Island and becoming an utter wreck.

Only two German shots proved effective. One of these failed to explode,
but smashed the main range finder and killed one man. The other killed
three men and wounded fourteen.

Each of the cruisers attempted to torpedo the other, but both were
unsuccessful, and the duel proved a contest in hard pounding at long
range. The Sydney's speed during the fighting was twenty-six knots and
the Emden's twenty-four knots, the British ship's superiority of two
knots enabling her to choose the range at which the battle should be
fought, and to make the most of her superior guns.

The Sydney left here at 11 A.M. Tuesday in the hope of picking up any of
the survivors of the Buresk, the collier that had been in attendance on
the Emden and was sunk after an engagement on the previous day. Finally,
with a number of wounded prisoners on board, the Sydney left here
yesterday, and our few hours of war excitement were over.

*Crowds See the Niger Sink*

[By a Correspondent of The London Daily Chronicle.]

DEAL, England, Nov. 11.--By the destruction of the British torpedo
gunboat Niger, which was torpedoed and sunk by a submarine in the Downs
this afternoon, the realities of war were brought home to the
inhabitants of Deal and Walmer.

A loud explosion was heard from the gunboat as she lay off the Deal
pier, and great volumes of smoke enveloped the vessel. When the smoke
cleared the Niger was observed to be settling down forward. Men, women,
and children rushed to the sea front, exclaiming that the vessel had
been torpedoed or mined. They soon realized that the Niger was doomed.
The Deal and Kingsdown lifeboats as well as boats from other parts of
the beach were launched in an effort to save the sailors.

Consternation and almost panic prevailed among the hundreds who stood
watching the ghastly sight from the beach. Fortunately, the North Deal
galley Hope, commanded by Capt. John Budd, lay at anchor near the spot,
waiting to land the pilot from a London steamer which was going down the
channel. When the boatmen realized that the Niger had been hit by a
submarine or mine, to use their own expression, they rowed like the very
devil.

"We saw the sailors," said Capt. Budd, "jumping from the vessel's side
in dozens. As we neared the fast-disappearing vessel we came upon swarms
of men struggling in the sea and heroically helping to support each
other. Some were fully dressed, others only partly so. They were
clinging to pieces of wreckage and deck furniture, and some were in
lifeboats.

"It was a heartrending spectacle. The men were so thick in the water
that they grasped at our oars as we dipped them in the sea. We rescued
so many and our own boat got so choked that we could not move. With our
own gunwale only just out of the water, we were in danger of sinking
ourselves.

"We called to the men that we could take no more in or we should sink
ourselves, but they continued to pour over the sides, and some hung to
the stern of our boat. We had about fifty on board. Never had there been
so many in the boat before. One burly sailor, whom we told to wait until
the next boat came along, laughingly remarked [Transcriber: original
'remared'] while he was in the water, 'All right, Cocky, I will hold on
by my eyebrows,' and he drifted to another galley. Another Deal boat
then came along and relieved us of some of our men.

"Suddenly we heard a shout, and, looking around, saw the commander of
the Niger waving and beckoning to us from the stern of the sinking ship.
We could not go to him because our craft was so heavily laden. Another
galley then came along, and, after taking out some of our men, together
with those who were hanging on to our sides, we went closer to the
sinking gunboat and took off some more men, and at the Captain's special
request we waited until he took a final look around to see if there were
any more men left on board the vessel.

"By this time the ship was very nearly under water, and we shouted to
him to hurry up, as the Niger had turned over on her side and was likely
to go down at any moment. That brave Captain only just managed to jump
in time, when the gunboat gave a lurch and sank on her side in eight
fathoms of water. We were proud to rescue that Captain, for he was a
true sailor."

The other boats which picked up men were the Maple Leaf, the motor boat
Naru, the Annie, the May, and the Deal lifeboat.

The rescuing party saw one dead sailor floating by.

The majority of those rescued received first aid on being landed at
North Deal, and then they were taken in ambulances to the Marine
Hospital at Walmer.

One survivor, replying to a question as to whether the Niger was
torpedoed or mined, replied:

"Torpedoed, Sir. With the exception of the watch and the gun crews all
were below at the time. The first order we received was to close the
watertight doors."

So far as I can ascertain at present only one man is missing. Four or
five have been landed at Ramsgate. The crew is said to have numbered
ninety-six officers and men.

The sinking of the Niger came with tragic swiftness. It was
comparatively a fine, peaceful day, and the people were resting on the
promenade enjoying sea and fresh air. Anglers--men and women--were
calmly fishing from the pier. One angler whom I interviewed this evening
said:

"I had just baited my line and cast it out when I heard two loud
reports, like an explosion. I looked seaward and saw the Niger, only a
mile away, enveloped in smoke or steam. When it had cleared away. I said
to my fellow-anglers, 'Oh, he is letting off steam! When I looked at her
again I was startled to notice that she was lower in the water.
Fortunately I had slung across my shoulder a pair of glasses, and, on
looking at the vessel through them, I noticed that they were attempting
to lower the boats, while the remainder of the crew stood at attention
on the deck. We could see that the vessel was sinking, and the lifeboats
and other boats were hastening to the rescue.

"The vessel then gradually disappeared, bow first, and after about
fifteen minutes not a sign of her remained."

*Lieut. Weddigen's Own Story*

*By Herbert B. Swope.*

[Copyright, 1914, by The Press Publishing Company (The New York World).]

BERLIN, Sept. 30.--Through the kindness of the German Admiralty I am
able to tell exclusively the story of Capt. Lieut. Otto Weddigen,
commander of the now world famous submarine U-9, whose feat in
destroying three English cruisers has lifted the German Navy to a lofty
place in sea history.

There is an inviolable rule in the German Army and Navy prohibiting
officers from talking of their exploits, but because of the special
nature of Weddigen's exploit an exception was made, and through the good
offices of Count von Oppersdorf The World was granted the right of first
telling Weddigen's remarkable story.

It must be borne in mind that Lieut. Weddigen's account has been
officially announced and verified by German Navy Headquarters. That will
explain why certain details must be omitted, since they are of
importance if further submarine excursions are undertaken against the
British fleet. Following is Weddigen's tale, supplemented by the
Admiralty Intelligence Department:

By CAPT. LIEUT. OTTO WEDDIGEN.
Commander of the German Submarine U-9.

I am 32 years old and have been in the navy for years. For the last five
years I have been attached to the submarine flotilla, and have been most
interested in that branch of the navy. At the outbreak of the war our
undersea boats were rendezvoused at certain harbors in the North Sea,
the names of which I am restrained from divulging.

Each of us felt and hoped that the Fatherland might be benefited by such
individual efforts of ours as were possible at a time when our bigger
sisters of the fleet were prohibited from activity. So we awaited
commands from the Admiralty, ready for any undertaking that promised to
do for the imperial navy what our brothers of the army were so
gloriously accomplishing.

It has already been told how I was married at the home of my brother in
Wilhelmshaven to my boyhood sweetheart, Miss Prete of Hamburg, on Aug.
16.

Before that I had been steadily on duty with my boat, and I had to leave
again the next day after my marriage. But both my bride and I wanted the
ceremony to take place at the appointed time, and it did, although
within twenty-four hours thereafter I had to go away on a venture that
gave a good chance of making my new wife a widow. But she was as firm as
I was that my first duty was to answer the call of our country, and she
waved me away from the dock with good-luck wishes.

I set out from a North Sea port on one of the arms of the Kiel Canal and
set my course in a southwesterly direction. The name of the port I
cannot state officially, but it has been guessed at; nor am I permitted
to say definitely just when we started, but it was not many days before
the morning of Sept. 22 when I fell in with my quarry.

When I started from home the fact was kept quiet and a heavy sea helped
to keep the secret, but when the action began the sun was bright and the
water smooth--not the most favorable conditions for submarine work.

I had sighted several ships during my passage, but they were not what I
was seeking. English torpedo boats came within my reach, but I felt
there was bigger game further on, so on I went. I traveled on the
surface except when we sighted vessels, and then I submerged, not even
showing my periscope, except when it was necessary to take bearings. It
was ten minutes after 6 on the morning of last Tuesday when I caught
sight of one of the big cruisers of the enemy.

I was then eighteen sea miles northwest of the Hook of Holland. I had
then traveled considerably more than 200 miles from my base. My boat was
one of an old type, but she had been built on honor, and she was
behaving beautifully. I had been going ahead partly submerged, with
about five feet of my periscope showing. Almost immediately I caught
sight of the first cruiser and two others. I submerged completely and
laid my course so as to bring up in the centre of the trio, which held a
sort of triangular formation. I could see their gray-black sides riding
high over the water.

When I first sighted them they were near enough for torpedo work, but I
wanted to make my aim sure, so I went down and in on them. I had taken
the position of the three ships before submerging, and I succeeded in
getting another flash through my periscope before I began action. I soon
reached what I regarded as a good shooting point.

[The officer is not permitted to give this distance, but it is
understood to have been considerably less than a mile, although the
German torpedoes have an effective range of four miles.]

[Illustration: CAPT. KARL VON MULLER
Of the German Cruiser Emden
(_Photo (C) by American Press Assn._)]

[Illustration: GEN. JOSEPH JOFFRE
The French Commander-in-Chief.
(_Photo from International News Service._)]

Then I loosed one of my torpedoes at the middle ship. I was then about
twelve feet under water, and got the shot off in good shape, my men
handling the boat as if she had been a skiff. I climbed to the surface
to get a sight through my tube of the effect, and discovered that the
shot had gone straight and true, striking the ship, which I later
learned was the Aboukir, under one of her magazines, which in exploding
helped the torpedo's work of destruction.

There was a fountain of water, a burst of smoke, a flash of fire, and
part of the cruiser rose in the air. Then I heard a roar and felt
reverberations sent through the water by the detonation. She had been
broken apart, and sank in a few minutes. The Aboukir had been stricken
in a vital spot and by an unseen force; that made the blow all the
greater.

Her crew were brave, and even with death staring them in the face kept
to their posts, ready to handle their useless guns, for I submerged at
once. But I had stayed on top long enough to see the other cruisers,
which I learned were the Cressy and the Hogue, turn and steam full speed
to their dying sister, whose plight they could not understand, unless it
had been due to an accident.

The ships came on a mission of inquiry and rescue, for many of the
Aboukir's crew were now in the water, the order having been given, "Each
man for himself."

But soon the other two English cruisers learned what had brought about
the destruction so suddenly.

As I reached my torpedo depth I sent a second charge at the nearest of
the oncoming vessels, which was the Hogue. The English were playing my
game, for I had scarcely to move out of my position, which was a great
aid, since it helped to keep me from detection.

On board my little boat the spirit of the German Navy was to be seen in
its best form. With enthusiasm every man held himself in check and gave
attention to the work in hand.

The attack on the Hogue went true. But this time I did not have the
advantageous aid of having the torpedo detonate under the magazine, so
for twenty minutes the Hogue lay wounded and helpless on the surface
before she heaved, half turned over and sank.

But this time, the third cruiser knew of course that the enemy was upon
her and she sought as best she could to defend herself. She loosed her
torpedo defense batteries on boats, starboard and port, and stood her
ground as if more anxious to help the many sailors who were in the water
than to save herself. In common with the method of defending herself
against a submarine attack, she steamed in a zigzag course, and this
made it necessary for me to hold my torpedoes until I could lay a true
course for them, which also made it necessary for me to get nearer to
the Cressy. I had come to the surface for a view and saw how wildly the
fire was being sent from the ship. Small wonder that was when they did
not know where to shoot, although one shot went unpleasantly near us.

When I got within suitable range I sent away my third attack. This time
I sent a second torpedo after the first to make the strike doubly
certain. My crew were aiming like sharpshooters and both torpedos went
to their bullseye. My luck was with me again, for the enemy was made
useless and at once began sinking by her head. Then she careened far
over, but all the while her men stayed at the guns looking for their
invisible foe. They were brave and true to their country's sea
traditions. Then she eventually suffered a boiler explosion and
completely turned turtle. With her keel uppermost she floated until the
air got out from under her and then she sank with a loud sound, as if
from a creature in pain.

The whole affair had taken less than one hour from the time of shooting
off the first torpedo until the Cressy went to the bottom. Not one of
the three had been able to use any of its big guns. I knew the wireless
of the three cruisers had been calling for aid. I was still quite able
to defend myself, but I knew that news of the disaster would call many
English submarines and torpedo boat destroyers, so, having done my
appointed work, I set my course for home.

My surmise was right, for before I got very far some British cruisers
and destroyers were on the spot, and the destroyers took up the chase. I
kept under water most of the way, but managed to get off a wireless to
the German fleet that I was heading homeward and being pursued. I hoped
to entice the enemy, by allowing them now and then a glimpse of me, into
the zone in which they might be exposed to capture or destruction by
German warships, but, although their destroyers saw me plainly at dusk
on the 22d and made a final effort to stop me, they abandoned the
attempt, as it was taking them too far from safety and needlessly
exposing them to attack from our fleet and submarines.

How much they feared our submarines and how wide was the agitation
caused by good little U-9 is shown by the English reports that a whole
flotilla of German submarines had attacked the cruisers and that this
flotilla had approached under cover of the flag of Holland.

These reports were absolutely untrue. U-9 was the only submarine on
deck, and she flew the flag she still flies--the German naval
ensign--which I hope to keep forever as a glorious memento and as an
inspiration for devotion to the Fatherland.

I reached the home port on the afternoon of the 23d, and on the 24th
went to Wilhelmshaven, to find that news of my effort had become public.
My wife, dry eyed when I went away, met me with tears. Then I learned
that my little vessel and her brave crew had won the plaudit of the
Kaiser, who conferred upon each of my co-workers the Iron Cross of the
second class and upon me the Iron Cross of the first and second classes.

[Weddigen is the hero of the hour in Germany. He also wears a medal
for life-saving. Counting himself, Weddigen had twenty-six men. The
limit of time that his ship is capable of staying below the surface
is about six hours.]

THE SOLILOQUY OF AN OLD SOLDIER.

By O.C.A. CHILD.

You need not watch for silver in your hair,
Or try to smooth the wrinkles from your eyes,
Or wonder if you're getting quite too spare,
Or if your mount can bear a man your size.

You'll never come to shirk the fastest flight,
To query if she really cares to dance,
To find your eye less keen upon the sight,
Or lose your tennis wrist or golfing stance.

For you the music ceased on highest note--
Your charge had won, you'd scattered them like sand,
And then a little whisper in your throat,
And you asleep, your cheek upon your hand.

Thrice happy fate, you met it in full cry,
Young, eager, loved, your glitt'ring world all joy--
You ebbed not out, you died when tide was high,
An old campaigner envies you, my boy!

*The War at Home*

*How It Affects the Countries Whose Men Are At the Front.*

*The Effects of War in Four Countries*

*By Irvin S. Cobb.*

[From THE NEW YORK TIMES [Transcriber: original 'TMIES'], Dec. 2, 1914.]

[_The following story of conditions in Belgium, Germany, France,
Holland, and England was sent by Irvin S. Cobb of The Saturday
Evening Post to the American [Transcriber: original 'Aerican'] Red
Cross, to be used in bringing home to Americans urgent need for
relief in the countries affected by the great war. Red Cross
contributions for suffering non-combatants are received at the Red
Cross offices in the Russell Sage Foundation Building, 130 East
Twenty-second Street. Such contributions should be addressed to
Jacob H. Schiff, Treasurer, and, if desired, the giver can
designate the country to the relief of which he wishes the donation
applied._]

Recently I have been in four of the countries concerned in the present
war--Belgium, France, Germany, and England. I was also in Holland,
having traversed it from end to end within a week after the fall of
Antwerp, when every road coming up out of the south was filled with
Belgian refugees.

In Belgium I saw this:

Homeless men, women, and children by thousands and hundreds of
thousands. Many of them had been prosperous, a few had been wealthy,
practically all had been comfortable. Now, with scarcely an exception,
they stood all upon one common plane of misery. They had lost their
homes, their farms, their work-shops, their livings, and their means of
making livings.

I saw them tramping aimlessly along wind-swept, rain-washed roads,
fleeing from burning and devastated villages. I saw them sleeping in
open fields upon the miry earth, with no cover and no shelter. I saw
them herded together in the towns and cities to which many of them
ultimately fled, existing God alone knows how. I saw them--ragged,
furtive scarecrows--prowling in the shattered ruins of their homes,
seeking salvage where there was no salvage to be found. I saw them
living like the beasts of the field, upon such things as the beasts of
the field would reject.

I saw them standing in long lines waiting for their poor share of the
dole of a charity which already was nearly exhausted. I saw their towns
when hardly one stone stood upon another. I saw their abandoned farm
lands, where the harvests rotted in the furrows and the fruit hung
mildewed and ungathered upon the trees. I saw their cities where trade
was dead and credit was a thing which no longer existed. I saw them
staggering from weariness and from the weakness of hunger. I saw all
these sights repeated and multiplied infinitely--yes, and magnified,
too--but not once did I see a man or woman or even a child that wept or
cried out.

If the Belgian soldiers won the world's admiration by the resistance
which they made against tremendously overpowering numbers, the people of
Belgium--the families of their soldiers--should have the world's
admiration and pity for the courage, the patience, and the fortitude
they have displayed under the load of an affliction too dolorous for any
words to describe, too terrible for any imagination to picture.

In France I saw a pastoral land overrun by soldiers and racked by war
until it seemed the very earth would cry out for mercy. I saw a country
literally stripped of its men in order that the regiments might be
filled. I saw women hourly striving to do the ordained work of their
fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons, hourly piecing together the
jarred and broken fragments of their lives. I saw countless villages
turned into smoking, filthy, ill-smelling heaps of ruins. I saw schools
that were converted into hospitals and factories changed into barracks.

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