Part Six: The Raiders Run To Ground
As the weeks went on, each German captain realized that their days were surely numbered. The difficulties in finding coal and managing prize ships have already been described. Also, and unbeknownst to the Germans, the Allied forces were only growing stronger. The Japanese battlecruiser Ibuki and the French armoured cruiser Montcalm reinforced their compatriots. while several armed merchant cruisers (converted passenger liners) joined the Royal Navy forces. By mid September, freed up by the capture of Tsingtao, the Imperial Japanese Navy assumed patrol duties in the northern Pacific, allowing the allies to focus more on likely areas around Indonesia, the Philiippines, and the Solomons. The noose was slowly tightening, and in mid September the Allies achieved two key victories.
The first victory came, paradoxically, in the form of a defeat. Once he realized that blockading Dar Es Salaam was a fruitless business, Admiral King Hall, now reinforced by several modern cruisers, could focus elsewhere. He prepared to take over escort duties for the ANZAC convoy, faithfully shepherded by Admiral Patey’s squadron, and also knew that the Indian Army was preparing an expedition to seize the German haven of Dar Es Salaam.
King Hall had stationed two of his oldest ships, the protected cruisers Astraea and Pegasus, in the Mozambique Channel should Koenigsberg attempt to flee south from her profitable hunting ground in the Bay of Bengal. As fate had it, this was exactly Captain Loof’s intention, and at 00:45 hrs on September 19th, off the coast of Madagascar, a sharp-eyed German lookout spotted two ships in line abreast, identifying them as British light cruisers, which flashed a demand for a recognition signal. Fearing that he could not outrun these ships, and relying on German night fighting skills, Loof hoisted his battle ensign, turned broadside to the enemy, turned on his searchlights and opened fire at medium range, scoring at least three hits with his 10.5 cm guns.
HMS Astraea visiting Hong Kong before the war.
The lead ship was in fact HMS Astraea and her exact fate is unknown. She was not observed to fire, but in the words of one German witness, “Staggered out of line and rapidly began to heel over”. Presumably she experienced some sort of catastrophic flooding. Astern of her, Lt. Oliver Burne-Lee of Pegasus recalls getting the order to fire, and believes that the gun under his command scored a hit, but “It was very dark and we were all blinded by their damned lights and quite shocked to be suddenly in a fight”. Seconds later a German shell burst in Pegasus’ bridge, killing Commander Ingles and his staff. To the astonishment of those aboard Koenigsberg, the first British ship had vanished, presumably capsized, and the second (Pegasus), now no longer under direction, steamed on an unchanging course that took her closer to their broadside.
Several more German salvoes ripped apart the lightly armoured Pegasus, and she sank quickly. Aboard Koenigsberg there was cheering, but when Loof received the damage report, that an entire boiler room had been destroyed, he knew that his ship’s fate was sealed. As he wrote later, “A raider’s primary weapon is speed, and in depriving us of that advantage, these gallant Britishers had sealed our fate with their lives”. Loof spent several hours searching for survivors, rescuing twenty two men from Pegasus, but not one man from Astraea survived. The German skipper then took the extraordinary decision to broadcast his position in the clear, reporting the engagement and the need for a rescue mission, before leaving the scene. This message was picked up by several Allied stations, and was first thought to be a ruse, but days later, patrol boats sent from Simonstown found wreckage and bodies, confirming the sad story.
Loof spend the rest of the night considering his options. The German commander at Dar Es Salaam reported an attack was likely and that the port was sure to fall. Loof knew these waters well, and decided to take Koenigsberg on a one-way journey up the Rufiji Estuary to put his crew and armaments in the service of the German commander von Lettow-Vorbeck, the celebrated “Lion of Africa”. For some weeks, the mysterious loss of Astraea and Pegasus vexed the British, until in another piece of chivalry, Loof put his British prisoners on a captured Japanese merchant, the Hudson Maru, and sent them back down the river. Eventually Burne-Lee and his comrades were rescued and their story became known. King Hall recalled that “the loss of these two ships and their crews was the saddest part of this campaign for me, but their loss was not in vain”. Indeed, by sacrificing themselves, their crews had removed another enemy piece from the board.
A day after Koenigsberg encountered and sank the British ships, the brief and successful career of Prinz Eitel Friedrich ended. Friedrich had encountered her nemesis some weeks earlier. On 9 September, while pretending to be the British passenger ship Star of Auckland, she had used this disguise to trick, capture and sink two sailing ships (the Lady Lucy and Emerald) and was in the process of boarding a third prize, the British steam merchant ship Pontic, when smoke was observed through rain squalls astern. Captain Thierichens was in company with a prize ship, the French Victor Herbert, which he was using as a collier. Thierichens promptly recalled his prize crew, ordered Pontic’s crew into lifeboats, and fired a broadside into her, setting a fire amidships.
The approaching ships were the Russian squadron under command of Commodore Ivanov. At first Ivanov did not recognize Friedrich and thought he had encountered some sort of convoy. However, the fire that soon broke out aboard Pontic was the clue that dirty deeds were afoot. By the time Askold had arrived on the scene, Friedrich was steaming hard for nearby cloud cover, and eventually was obscured in rain squalls, and escaped. Ivanov rescued the crew of Pontic and searched the area, and now knew that a German armed merchant raider was in the vicinity.
On the early morning of September 20th, Ivanov’s patient hunting was rewarded when he caught up with his quarry in the Marshall Islands. Shortly after sunrise, a sharp eyed lookout on Askold’s bridge spotted Friedrich, which, perhabs because of the rising sun or a tired crew, failed to spot the Russians until a 6” shell caused a waterspout 200 metres to port amidships. Ivanov ordered Jemtchug to engage to the enemy’s port while he closed to starboard. He signalled “Show your true colours and surrender in the name of the Tsar!”
Captain Thierichens resolved to fight, and the ensign of the Kaiserliche Marine broke out from his mast as he turned to starboard, making smoke to conceal himself from Jemtchug. Pulling tarpaulins off their deck guns, the Germans opened fire but failed to slow the onrushing Russian ships, which enjoyed a considerable speed advantage. As Friedrich turned to port, she took several hits from Askold’s full broadside, destroying one 10.5 cm gun and its crew and opening her hull below the waterline forward.
First Officer Mundt recalls that “as the fight was heating up, Leutnant Von Richter appeared on the bridge, and reported severe flooding below forward. Thierichens and I both looked at one another in alarm. That was where many of our prisoners were confined. Grimly the Captain told him to do his best.” Despite frantic efforts, the flooding worsened and Friedrich was slowing. With a Russian ship on either side and his firepower diminished, and wanting to spare the prisoners, Thierichens ordered the ensign struck, signalled his surrender and requested assistance.
In his memoirs, Mundt remembered that at this point he and the Captain realized they were both wearing their uniform coats overtop their pajamas. Thierichens ordered a seaman to go fetch their trousers and his sword. “I’ll be damned if a Russian captures me like this”. By the time Ivanov’s first officer climbed aboard, the worst of the flooding was contained and the ship was no longer in danger. A few prisoners had sadly drowned, but Thierichens’ compassionate decision had saved many lives. The Russians rescused the crews of five merchant ships that day, and putting his own men aboard, Ivanov ordered his prize sailed to Vladivastock. Thus began a long Siberian captivity for Captain Thierichens and his men, who it must be said had behaved with the utmost gallantry and regard for their prisoners.
On September 28th, the ANZAC convoy, now under the sheltering wings of King Hall’s squadron, reached the Suez Canal, a significant achievement for the Allies. For these gallant volunteers, their long ordeal in the Gallipoli campaign lay in the future. That same week, Nurnberg, under Von Spee’s command, sank two merchants in the Coral Sea and put their crews on a third ship, SS Madrigal, with orders to proceed to Rabaul.
Landing troops at Dar Es Salaam.
On 3 October, Dar Es Salaam fell. The pre-dreadnought HMS Ocean, which had reinforced the Cape Squadron, opened a bombardment of suspected beach defences. King Hall watched the landing from Swiftsure and recalled that “It was a most gallant sight. Led by Pelorus, her quick-firing guns ready to engage the enemy, boats rowed by Ocean’s bluejackets brought out troops ashore, the East Surreys in their pith helmets and the turbans of the Rajputs. Our men waded ashore in fine style, and found no resistance. The foe had wisely fled.” An unexpected reward was found by some of King Hall’s officers, who had the presence of mind to search the evacuated German naval headquarters and found a codebook. On being sent to London, it proved to be of some value in later months.
On 7 October, Emden and Nurnberg met by chance in the Marshall Islands. It was the only time in the campaign that the men of Emden saw their admiral. Muller of the Emden wrote in his memoirs that “Both our ships were battered and rusty, but our spirits were high. Nurnberg traded us captured mutton for some of our liberated whiskey and caviar, and we had a very pleasant few hours. For once, neither ship was short of coal. We agreed to part ways, Von Spee steaming north and we steaming west the for the Philippines, and that was the last we saw of our gallant chief.”
On 15 October, Nurnberg bombarded and severely damaged a Japanese naval outpost and wireless station in the Central Pacific. Von Spee must have known that this would attract attention, and perhaps he was hoping to draw the hunters off the Emden, which was by now notorious. The Japanese did manage to signal an SOS, and Nurnberg was briefly pursued by a Japanese squadron of three older and slower ships, and this made good her escape. But she was now a marked quarry, and around 21:00 hours on 19 October, Nurnberg’s luck ran out.
The fast cruiser IJN Chikuma had been summoned north from her duties supporting Admiral Jerram. Sighting a suspicious ship in the dark, she challenged by flashing light. Captain Tatsuo was immediately suspicious, and opened fire with his full broadside. Only a handful of Nurnberg’s crew survived, and their accounts do not shed much light on how she sank, but her end came quickly. Signalmen Horst Thiele was on the bridge and recalled that the deck tilted sharply. “It was the old man, the Admiral, who pushed me up and through the hatch, but when I turned to grab his hand he was gone and I was engulfed in black water. Somehow I was able to make it to the surface.” Chikuma plucked some twenty survivors from the dark sea, but Von Spee was not among them. So ended the saga of this gallant sailor, who caused us much consternation, and who gave his life in a forlorn hope. With Friedrich captured, the crippled Koenigsberg walled up in her riverine prison, and Nurnberg sunk, this only left one raider at large, and we shall finish our account with her remarkable story.
No comments:
Post a Comment