CHAPTER IVSOME JAPANESE JOKESWE were greatly puzzled by the activity of the Japanese besieging army. After the first bombardment we all thought that the Japanese would try to carry the fortress by assault, as they could not fail to know how weak we were, and that but a single wire entanglement stood between them and us.The wildest rumours were circulated in our midst: “The Japanese dare not attack us, as things are going so well for us in Europe!” or “The Americans are sending their fleet to our assistance, and will force the Japs to retire!” And then again, “The Japs only want to starve us out; they want Kiao-Chow to fall into their hands with as little damage as possible!”But we never got beyond mere conjectures. Quietly and systematically, and without our being able to prevent them, the Japaneselanded their troops, constructed roads and railways, brought up heavy artillery and ammunition, entrenched themselves before our entanglements and slowly worked towards our defence-line.I now started on my principal job—to reconnoitre the position of the enemy’s heavy batteries.Every day, whenever the weather permitted—and the propeller!—in the early dawn, as soon as it was light, I started on my travels into the unknown. And when the sun rose I hung like a silver speck high up in the ether, circling for hours round the enemy’s positions, and overlooking the whole of our beloved Protectorate invaded by an impudent enemy, who meant to corner and destroy us.My work was hard, but I enjoyed it, and it was crowned with success, and the enemy’s unceasing efforts to shoot me down convinced me that Iwassuccessful.As I mentioned before, I was now the only aviator at Kiao-Chow—“the Master-Bird of Kiao-Chow,” as the Chinese called me. Also I had but a single Taube at my disposal. I had to be careful and take no unnecessaryrisks, otherwise there would have been an end to my job.This was the way I carried out my reconnoitring.As soon as I was flying right over the enemy I throttled my engine in such a fashion that it kept the altitude of its own accord. I then hung my map on the stick, took a pencil and a notebook, and observed what was happening below through the space between the planes and the tail. I let go the stick, and steered solely with my feet.I then circled round a position until I had thoroughly mastered its details, made a sketch of them, and entered them in my notebook. I soon acquired such proficiency that I was able to write and draw uninterruptedly for an hour or two. When I felt the back of my neck getting stiff, I turned round and looked down on the other side. I did this until I was satisfied with my notes, and sometimes I was so carried away by my work that I had to be warned by a glance at my petrol-recorder that it was high time I went home.I always returned the same way. I flewround the wharves and the town in proud circles, and when I reached my aerodrome I shut off the engine and shot down to earth in a steep, gliding flight, which landed me safe and sound in four minutes. For it was necessary to be quick. Infantry and machine-gun fire were continuously directed at my aeroplane while it flew over the enemy’s positions; when this proved of no avail, the enemy used shrapnel, and this was most objectionable.The Japanese always had new surprises in store for me. One day, for instance—a day of blue sky and glorious sunshine—as I was returning from a reconnaissance and about to land, I saw a great number of fleecy white clouds, which looked perfectly delightful seen from above, hovering over my aerodrome at an altitude of about 300 metres.But I soon noticed that the Japanese were trying on one of their little jokes, for these pretty cloudlets were caused by the firing of 10½-centimetre shrapnels!There was nothing to be done but to grind one’s teeth and fight one’s way through. Four minutes later my machine droppedfrom an altitude of 2000 metres, and I pushed it as quickly as I could under a shed, whose roof was protected by earth.I had now to resort to ruse.Sometimes, when still hovering over the enemy camp, I suddenly shut off my engine and swooped down perpendicularly on to a corner of my aerodrome, so that the Japs were convinced that they had winged me. By the time they recovered from their surprise I was already pushing my machine into safety, their shrapnel bursting much too late.But, as I tirelessly returned, the Japanese retaliated by posting two of their 10½-centimetre batteries so far behind and so much on the side that their shrapnel easily reached me whilst I was circling over their heads. It was very unpleasant, and my fate would often have been sealed but for my nimbleness in taking a sharp turn and thus evading a hit.The shrapnels then burst so near that in spite of the noise of the engine I could hear the ugly bark of the explosion and feel the violent air-pressure that sent my aeroplane rolling like an old bargeat sea, which made observation extremely difficult.I must say that each time I landed safely I felt an overwhelming pride and satisfaction in my achievement, and halloed joyously with the full power of my lungs.After hours of the greatest exertion and danger, I again felt solid earth under my feet, and in spite of guns and shrapnel.As soon as I touched ground my four helpers came on the run, fearless of danger from the hail of shrapnel, and helped me to stow away my machine. My faithful dog, Husdent, jumped around them, barking joyously.And whilst the four were busy getting my aeroplane ready for the next flight, I already sat at the steering-wheel of my car, all my maps and reports in my pocket, with Husdent at my side, and again raced along the road under shrapnel fire to Government House, where my reports were being eagerly awaited.I believe anybody will sympathize with my joy and pride when I was allowed to present my drawings and observations. For on some days I had been able to discoveras many as five or six enemy batteries, and often my observations filled four pages of the report forms.The warm handshake with which the Governor and the Head of the Staff thanked me for my work was reward enough.And whilst I drove homewards, in order to lunch and take a much-needed rest, I already heard the thundering of our guns as they hurtled their iron hailstones into the positions of the enemy just discovered by me.CHAPTER VMY WAR RUSEHOW sad and desolate it now looked in my little house!Immediately at the beginning of the siege, my good Patzig was obliged to leave me and to rejoin his 21-centimetre Battery-commander. He had only luxuriated for four weeks in the possession of our beautiful little home, and now he sat in his redoubt and fulfilled his duty until he had fired his last shell and the Japanese, with their heavy howitzers, had levelled to the ground the whole of his battery.As soon as the first shot was fired, my Chinese cook, Moritz, faithlessly left me in the lurch, and one evening I found that also Fritz, Max and August had vanished without trace.After a few days a new Chinese cook—Wilhelm—appeared on the scene, and recounted with emphatic gestures:“Kind Master, me plenty good cook; me no lun away like bad fellow Molitz; me havee no fear; me makee plenty good chau-chau.”I believed him, promised to give him five dollars and more. Things went fairly well, until one day the first enemy shells burst close to my house, and Herr Wilhelm as promptly disappeared as his predecessors.I now sat alone in my deserted home with my faithful batman, Dorsch. We were the only inhabitants of the whole villa quarter of Iltis Bay.Not exactly a safe or pleasant spot, for the villas were built on the hill which carried our chief batteries, and the enemy shells which whizzed past them landed straight in our midst. But we were very cautious. That is to say, we left our top floor and settled down comfortably and safely on the ground floor. As a further precaution we placed our beds in a corner, in such a way that they were far from a window, and thus we secured sufficient immunity. It was, however, lucky that no heavy shell challenged this position.But I did not remain for long in sole control of the air.On the forenoon of the 5th of September, under an overcast sky, with low-hanging clouds, we suddenly heard the purring of a motor, and I ran home to see what had happened. I was hardly there when an immense biplane shot into sight close over our heads. I was speechless, and peered dazedly at the apparition. Soon, however, the first explosions rent the air, and I now perceived the round red balls under the planes.It was a Jap!I must say that I felt rather queer on beholding my huge enemy colleague floating so near us in the sky. A bright outlook for the future!Kiao-Chow regarded the advent of the enemy airman as a most disagreeable surprise, for no one had expected that the Japs would be equipped with aircraft.On the whole, they eventually produced eight aeroplanes, amongst them four gigantic seaplanes, for whose possession I heartily envied the Japs. How often in the ensuing weeks did I gaze longingly at them, as they circled round the town, and wish for one!The Japs flew well and with extraordinary pluck. It is lucky, however, that theirbomb-dropping was not on a par with it, otherwise it would have been a bad look out for us. The Japanese bombs were heavy, of recent construction, and most destructive.The enemy seaplanes also had a tremendous advantage over us. They were able to take off at a great distance, without consideration of the wind, with as much space for turning out as they could wish for; and when they had ascended with the greatest security to the altitude of 3000 metres they swooped down upon us, and simply jeered at our shrapnels and machine-guns.One of the chief aims of the enemy was to destroy my hangar. Soon matters became so unpleasant for my aerodrome that one fine day I decided that it was time to stop my enemy colleagues’ little game.My real shed lay at the northern end of the ground; it made a splendid target, and the Japanese knew its location by heart. I now built unobtrusively a new shed on the opposite side, close to a mountain slope, covering it with clods of earth and grass, so that nothing of it could be noticed from above. We then proceeded with deep cunningand malice to the erection of a bogus aeroplane, with the help of planks, sailing canvas and tin. From above it looked exactly like my Taube. And after that, the moment an enemy aviator was in sight, we played a little comedy.On some days the doors of my old shed were wide open, and my imitation Taube sprawled in front of it on the beautiful green grass. On others the shed was closed and nothing to be seen. Another day my sham machine sat in a different place, where it could be spotted at once. Now the enemy aviators arrived and dropped bombs and bombs in their endeavours to hit the innocent bird. Whilst this was going on we sat in the real aeroplane, well protected by our roof, holding our sides with laughter as we saw the bombs seeking their bogus victim.Once when we had been specially deluged with them, I picked out a fine splinter from a Japanese aviation bomb, affixed my visiting card to it and wrote:“Kindest greetings to the enemy colleagues! Why do you shy at us with such hard objects? If you aren’t careful you will end by hurting us! It isn’t done.”I took this letter on my next flight and dropped it in front of the Japanese seaplane station.But this was only to announce my visit.In the meantime one of our men had been preparing bombs for me. Simply marvellous specimens! Huge tin boxes of 4 lb. each, on which could be read in big letters: “Sietas, Plambeck & Co., best Java coffee.” They were filled with dynamite, horseshoe nails and scrap iron, a lead spar fixed to the bottom and a fuse at the top. It was exploded by a sharp iron point which hit the percussion-cap of a cartridge. All these things seemed pretty uncanny to me, and I handled them with the greatest caution—always happy when I had done with them. But they never caused much damage. Once I hit a torpedo boat, and even then it did not explode; on several occasions I just missed a convoy. And once I learned through Japanese reports that I had dropped a bomb into the midst of a Japanese marching column and sent thirty yellow ones to the nether regions!I soon got over the first pleasant emotionof bombing. My time was fully occupied apart from it, and the results did not justify the time I lost.I often met my enemy colleagues in the air. I did not hanker for these meetings, for I could do little with my slow, laboriously climbing Taube against the huge biplanes which carried a crew of three men. Above all, I dared not forget that my chief object was reconnoitring, and after that to bring back my machine to Kiao-Chow in good condition.Once I was busily engaged on my observations, when my aeroplane began to pitch and toss. I thought this was due to bumps in the air, caused by the many steep and rugged mountains of this country which made flying extraordinarily difficult. Without even looking up, I went on taking observations, only grasping the control-lever with one hand in order to keep the aeroplane steady.After my return I was informed, to my great surprise, that an enemy plane had flown so closely on top of me that they thought I should be shot down.Next time I was more careful. And onsighting one of my enemy colleagues I followed and shot him down with my Parabellum pistol, after firing thirty times.A short time afterwards I nearly shared his fate. I was only at an altitude of 1700 metres, and in spite of the greatest efforts I could not get any higher. I was just above the enemy seaplane station as one of the great biplanes started. I now carried out my reconnaissance, thinking to myself: “Well, he can bestir himself until he gets up as high as I!”But after forty minutes, when I looked on my left over the plane, I saw the enemy already gaining on me at a distance of only a few thousand metres. This meant to be on guard and climb higher. But my Taube simply refused to budge, and I could not gain another yard. A quarter of an hour only elapsed before the other chap had outdistanced me, and was coming diagonally across my trail, trying to cut me off from the road to Kiao-Chow.It was now a matter for betting who would first reach Kiao-Chow, but I won the race. When I returned to my aerodrome I simply dived down, and no sooner did I reach theground than bombs were bursting all around us.It is extraordinary how they sometimes find their mark!Strict orders had been given at Kiao-Chow that everybody should make for cover as soon as an enemy airman was sighted. We had only two casualties—a non-commissioned officer and a Chinese. And that was quite marvellous enough. On my aerodrome I had about one hundred coolies, and they always sped to safety. One day, however, a native remained standing in the middle of the ground, all on his lonesome, staring at the large bird. Bang! A bomb hurtled through the air and exploded but a few paces away. The poor devil was badly hit. To have really bad luck there is no easier way than to be on the spot where shells and other heavy missiles are flying about.CHAPTER VIHURRAH!HOW did things look at Kiao-Chow in the meantime? The bombardment from the sea had become a daily occurrence, and soon the land batteries added their boom to the hellish discord. There was no longer any safety apart from the bomb-proof redoubts and localities. The firing became heavier and heavier, and on some days from the sea alone several hundred 30-centimetre, half-naval shells were shot into little Kiao-Chow.On the 14th of October our naval fortifications of Hu-Chuin-Huk were directly under fire. The enemy ships were far out at sea, and after the second volley the little outpost was submerged beneath a deluge of heavy shells. Now volley followed volley. The whole fortifications disappeared from sight behind the columns of water, flames and smoke, and the rumbling and crashingof the bursting shells set the earth a-tremble.As usual, I stood that morning on the Coast-commander’s look out, about 1000 metres from the fort, and so witnessed this terrifying spectacle at first hand.Sometimes the yard-long shell splinters flew whirring and hissing weirdly over our heads, without our paying any attention to them, as we were so engrossed by what we saw, which was so stupendous that no words could fittingly describe it.We thought with deep sorrow of the brave garrison and of their sure destruction; but suddenly, in the midst of the heaviest fire, our old 24-centimetre gun fired one shot, and our field-glasses were immediately fixed on the enemy ships.Suddenly a joyful and triumphant “Hurrah!” burst from our lips, for one of our explosive shells had hit the English warshipTriumphplumb in the middle of her deck.Triumphveered at once and ran away for all she was worth, and when our second shell sped after her a little later it was only able to hit the water about 50 metres from her stern.Triumphsteamed away after a few signals, which she exchanged with the Japanese flagship, and went off to Yokohama for repairs.The three Japanese ships continued their bombardment—now at a more respectful distance—so that it was useless to fire any longer with our old guns, which could not travel half as far.At midday the bombardment ceased at last, the enemy being justified by that time in assuming that the fort was destroyed and all its inmates killed.The staff of the Coast-commander at once hurried to Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk; and I also followed in my motor-car.Still under the impression of the terrible spectacle of the bombardment, we were most surprised on our arrival to see the whole garrison merrily tearing round, collecting splinters and admiring the huge craters which the enemy shells had dug in the ground.What luck! Not a man wounded, not a gun injured, not a hit on the bomb-proof rooms!The whole result of the heavy bombardment amounted to a broken biscuit-tin anda soldier’s shirt, which was hanging out to dry, and was torn to shreds! It was strange to think that 51-and 30½-centimetre guns were used to such purpose!A heavy shell had passed clean through the thin steel turrets, and lay peacefully near the gun on the iron plates!Now we learned the secret of our lucky hit—our guns had in reality only a carrying range of 160-100. But the gunners had with infinite pains succeeded in raising the gun several sixteenths of a degree higher, and so it carried 200 to 300 metres farther.Having loaded the breech at its highest angle, the brave gunners and their gallant Battery-commander, Oberleutnant Hasshagen, had quietly stuck to their guns under the heaviest shell-fire, until at last one of the ships came within hitting distance. And the best of it was that it hit the right target! It is a pity that theTriumphran away so quickly, otherwise she would not have escaped her fate on that day. But, for all that, it overtook her a little later.What we could not achieve was accomplished in the spring of 1915 by our friend Hersing, when he, with his U-boat, sent thissameTriumphto the bottom of the sea in the Dardanelles, thus avenging the garrison of Kiao-Chow. We owe him a debt of gratitude for this service.Ties of sincere friendship bound me to the officers and the garrison of Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk.I did not really belong to them, for in the first place my aerodrome lay close to the fort, and, in the second, they regularly watched my start, and, above all, my endeavours to get clear of their guns. And more than once the men stood ready to jump into the sea and to save me, for they thought I was falling into the water with my machine.But as often as I was a guest of the remarkable Commander of the Fort, Kapitänleutnant Kopp, we painted our triumphant return to Germany after the war in the most glowing colours, and had of course decided that I should march in with the garrison of Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk.On the 17th of October, late in the evening, a group of officers assembled on the Coast-commander’s stand and waited in breathless suspense for her commander, KapitänleutnantBrunner, to run the blockade with his torpedo-boat destroyer S.90.Two evenings before he had been out in a gallant endeavour to lay mines on the track of the Japanese ships. To-day he was going to fulfil his last and most difficult task—to break through the line of the enemy torpedo-boat destroyers and attack one of the enemy ships. It was a clear night, and there would be no moon after ten. The time came. Ten struck, then 10.30—the tension became unbearable. Nothing could be seen of S.90. Suddenly—it was eleven—we perceived a narrow, grey shadow which carefully moved on the water under the Pearl Mountains. And soon our sharp sailors’ eyes recognized the shape of the torpedo boat. “Good luck to your brave men!” Our hearts accompanied them with our warmest wishes. The boat disappeared from our sight, and soon the dangerous moment was at hand, when they would have to break through the enemy lines. Our eyes were glued in fascination on the open sea, expecting the flashing of the searchlights and the thunder of the guns at any moment.But all was silence.It was midnight. Another half-hour sped by—we breathed more easily, for the enemy was still in ignorance of the coming attack. By this time our boat must have reached the bulk of the fleet. The minutes turned into hours. No one spoke.Suddenly at 1 a.m., far away towards the south on the open sea, a huge fire-column, and then from all sides the lurid, groping fingers of the searchlights and a distant muttering and vibrating.Hurrah! That was the work of S.90. And already at 1.30 we received the following wireless:“Have attacked enemy cruisers with three torpedoes, registered three hits. Cruiser blew up at once. Am hunted by torpedo-boat destroyers, return Kiao-Chow cut off, trying escape south, and, if necessary, shall explode boat.Brunner.”This wire is sufficient praise for Commander, officers and crew.A few weeks later, without premonition, I met the S.90 at Nanking—but that is another story.
CHAPTER IVSOME JAPANESE JOKESWE were greatly puzzled by the activity of the Japanese besieging army. After the first bombardment we all thought that the Japanese would try to carry the fortress by assault, as they could not fail to know how weak we were, and that but a single wire entanglement stood between them and us.The wildest rumours were circulated in our midst: “The Japanese dare not attack us, as things are going so well for us in Europe!” or “The Americans are sending their fleet to our assistance, and will force the Japs to retire!” And then again, “The Japs only want to starve us out; they want Kiao-Chow to fall into their hands with as little damage as possible!”But we never got beyond mere conjectures. Quietly and systematically, and without our being able to prevent them, the Japaneselanded their troops, constructed roads and railways, brought up heavy artillery and ammunition, entrenched themselves before our entanglements and slowly worked towards our defence-line.I now started on my principal job—to reconnoitre the position of the enemy’s heavy batteries.Every day, whenever the weather permitted—and the propeller!—in the early dawn, as soon as it was light, I started on my travels into the unknown. And when the sun rose I hung like a silver speck high up in the ether, circling for hours round the enemy’s positions, and overlooking the whole of our beloved Protectorate invaded by an impudent enemy, who meant to corner and destroy us.My work was hard, but I enjoyed it, and it was crowned with success, and the enemy’s unceasing efforts to shoot me down convinced me that Iwassuccessful.As I mentioned before, I was now the only aviator at Kiao-Chow—“the Master-Bird of Kiao-Chow,” as the Chinese called me. Also I had but a single Taube at my disposal. I had to be careful and take no unnecessaryrisks, otherwise there would have been an end to my job.This was the way I carried out my reconnoitring.As soon as I was flying right over the enemy I throttled my engine in such a fashion that it kept the altitude of its own accord. I then hung my map on the stick, took a pencil and a notebook, and observed what was happening below through the space between the planes and the tail. I let go the stick, and steered solely with my feet.I then circled round a position until I had thoroughly mastered its details, made a sketch of them, and entered them in my notebook. I soon acquired such proficiency that I was able to write and draw uninterruptedly for an hour or two. When I felt the back of my neck getting stiff, I turned round and looked down on the other side. I did this until I was satisfied with my notes, and sometimes I was so carried away by my work that I had to be warned by a glance at my petrol-recorder that it was high time I went home.I always returned the same way. I flewround the wharves and the town in proud circles, and when I reached my aerodrome I shut off the engine and shot down to earth in a steep, gliding flight, which landed me safe and sound in four minutes. For it was necessary to be quick. Infantry and machine-gun fire were continuously directed at my aeroplane while it flew over the enemy’s positions; when this proved of no avail, the enemy used shrapnel, and this was most objectionable.The Japanese always had new surprises in store for me. One day, for instance—a day of blue sky and glorious sunshine—as I was returning from a reconnaissance and about to land, I saw a great number of fleecy white clouds, which looked perfectly delightful seen from above, hovering over my aerodrome at an altitude of about 300 metres.But I soon noticed that the Japanese were trying on one of their little jokes, for these pretty cloudlets were caused by the firing of 10½-centimetre shrapnels!There was nothing to be done but to grind one’s teeth and fight one’s way through. Four minutes later my machine droppedfrom an altitude of 2000 metres, and I pushed it as quickly as I could under a shed, whose roof was protected by earth.I had now to resort to ruse.Sometimes, when still hovering over the enemy camp, I suddenly shut off my engine and swooped down perpendicularly on to a corner of my aerodrome, so that the Japs were convinced that they had winged me. By the time they recovered from their surprise I was already pushing my machine into safety, their shrapnel bursting much too late.But, as I tirelessly returned, the Japanese retaliated by posting two of their 10½-centimetre batteries so far behind and so much on the side that their shrapnel easily reached me whilst I was circling over their heads. It was very unpleasant, and my fate would often have been sealed but for my nimbleness in taking a sharp turn and thus evading a hit.The shrapnels then burst so near that in spite of the noise of the engine I could hear the ugly bark of the explosion and feel the violent air-pressure that sent my aeroplane rolling like an old bargeat sea, which made observation extremely difficult.I must say that each time I landed safely I felt an overwhelming pride and satisfaction in my achievement, and halloed joyously with the full power of my lungs.After hours of the greatest exertion and danger, I again felt solid earth under my feet, and in spite of guns and shrapnel.As soon as I touched ground my four helpers came on the run, fearless of danger from the hail of shrapnel, and helped me to stow away my machine. My faithful dog, Husdent, jumped around them, barking joyously.And whilst the four were busy getting my aeroplane ready for the next flight, I already sat at the steering-wheel of my car, all my maps and reports in my pocket, with Husdent at my side, and again raced along the road under shrapnel fire to Government House, where my reports were being eagerly awaited.I believe anybody will sympathize with my joy and pride when I was allowed to present my drawings and observations. For on some days I had been able to discoveras many as five or six enemy batteries, and often my observations filled four pages of the report forms.The warm handshake with which the Governor and the Head of the Staff thanked me for my work was reward enough.And whilst I drove homewards, in order to lunch and take a much-needed rest, I already heard the thundering of our guns as they hurtled their iron hailstones into the positions of the enemy just discovered by me.CHAPTER VMY WAR RUSEHOW sad and desolate it now looked in my little house!Immediately at the beginning of the siege, my good Patzig was obliged to leave me and to rejoin his 21-centimetre Battery-commander. He had only luxuriated for four weeks in the possession of our beautiful little home, and now he sat in his redoubt and fulfilled his duty until he had fired his last shell and the Japanese, with their heavy howitzers, had levelled to the ground the whole of his battery.As soon as the first shot was fired, my Chinese cook, Moritz, faithlessly left me in the lurch, and one evening I found that also Fritz, Max and August had vanished without trace.After a few days a new Chinese cook—Wilhelm—appeared on the scene, and recounted with emphatic gestures:“Kind Master, me plenty good cook; me no lun away like bad fellow Molitz; me havee no fear; me makee plenty good chau-chau.”I believed him, promised to give him five dollars and more. Things went fairly well, until one day the first enemy shells burst close to my house, and Herr Wilhelm as promptly disappeared as his predecessors.I now sat alone in my deserted home with my faithful batman, Dorsch. We were the only inhabitants of the whole villa quarter of Iltis Bay.Not exactly a safe or pleasant spot, for the villas were built on the hill which carried our chief batteries, and the enemy shells which whizzed past them landed straight in our midst. But we were very cautious. That is to say, we left our top floor and settled down comfortably and safely on the ground floor. As a further precaution we placed our beds in a corner, in such a way that they were far from a window, and thus we secured sufficient immunity. It was, however, lucky that no heavy shell challenged this position.But I did not remain for long in sole control of the air.On the forenoon of the 5th of September, under an overcast sky, with low-hanging clouds, we suddenly heard the purring of a motor, and I ran home to see what had happened. I was hardly there when an immense biplane shot into sight close over our heads. I was speechless, and peered dazedly at the apparition. Soon, however, the first explosions rent the air, and I now perceived the round red balls under the planes.It was a Jap!I must say that I felt rather queer on beholding my huge enemy colleague floating so near us in the sky. A bright outlook for the future!Kiao-Chow regarded the advent of the enemy airman as a most disagreeable surprise, for no one had expected that the Japs would be equipped with aircraft.On the whole, they eventually produced eight aeroplanes, amongst them four gigantic seaplanes, for whose possession I heartily envied the Japs. How often in the ensuing weeks did I gaze longingly at them, as they circled round the town, and wish for one!The Japs flew well and with extraordinary pluck. It is lucky, however, that theirbomb-dropping was not on a par with it, otherwise it would have been a bad look out for us. The Japanese bombs were heavy, of recent construction, and most destructive.The enemy seaplanes also had a tremendous advantage over us. They were able to take off at a great distance, without consideration of the wind, with as much space for turning out as they could wish for; and when they had ascended with the greatest security to the altitude of 3000 metres they swooped down upon us, and simply jeered at our shrapnels and machine-guns.One of the chief aims of the enemy was to destroy my hangar. Soon matters became so unpleasant for my aerodrome that one fine day I decided that it was time to stop my enemy colleagues’ little game.My real shed lay at the northern end of the ground; it made a splendid target, and the Japanese knew its location by heart. I now built unobtrusively a new shed on the opposite side, close to a mountain slope, covering it with clods of earth and grass, so that nothing of it could be noticed from above. We then proceeded with deep cunningand malice to the erection of a bogus aeroplane, with the help of planks, sailing canvas and tin. From above it looked exactly like my Taube. And after that, the moment an enemy aviator was in sight, we played a little comedy.On some days the doors of my old shed were wide open, and my imitation Taube sprawled in front of it on the beautiful green grass. On others the shed was closed and nothing to be seen. Another day my sham machine sat in a different place, where it could be spotted at once. Now the enemy aviators arrived and dropped bombs and bombs in their endeavours to hit the innocent bird. Whilst this was going on we sat in the real aeroplane, well protected by our roof, holding our sides with laughter as we saw the bombs seeking their bogus victim.Once when we had been specially deluged with them, I picked out a fine splinter from a Japanese aviation bomb, affixed my visiting card to it and wrote:“Kindest greetings to the enemy colleagues! Why do you shy at us with such hard objects? If you aren’t careful you will end by hurting us! It isn’t done.”I took this letter on my next flight and dropped it in front of the Japanese seaplane station.But this was only to announce my visit.In the meantime one of our men had been preparing bombs for me. Simply marvellous specimens! Huge tin boxes of 4 lb. each, on which could be read in big letters: “Sietas, Plambeck & Co., best Java coffee.” They were filled with dynamite, horseshoe nails and scrap iron, a lead spar fixed to the bottom and a fuse at the top. It was exploded by a sharp iron point which hit the percussion-cap of a cartridge. All these things seemed pretty uncanny to me, and I handled them with the greatest caution—always happy when I had done with them. But they never caused much damage. Once I hit a torpedo boat, and even then it did not explode; on several occasions I just missed a convoy. And once I learned through Japanese reports that I had dropped a bomb into the midst of a Japanese marching column and sent thirty yellow ones to the nether regions!I soon got over the first pleasant emotionof bombing. My time was fully occupied apart from it, and the results did not justify the time I lost.I often met my enemy colleagues in the air. I did not hanker for these meetings, for I could do little with my slow, laboriously climbing Taube against the huge biplanes which carried a crew of three men. Above all, I dared not forget that my chief object was reconnoitring, and after that to bring back my machine to Kiao-Chow in good condition.Once I was busily engaged on my observations, when my aeroplane began to pitch and toss. I thought this was due to bumps in the air, caused by the many steep and rugged mountains of this country which made flying extraordinarily difficult. Without even looking up, I went on taking observations, only grasping the control-lever with one hand in order to keep the aeroplane steady.After my return I was informed, to my great surprise, that an enemy plane had flown so closely on top of me that they thought I should be shot down.Next time I was more careful. And onsighting one of my enemy colleagues I followed and shot him down with my Parabellum pistol, after firing thirty times.A short time afterwards I nearly shared his fate. I was only at an altitude of 1700 metres, and in spite of the greatest efforts I could not get any higher. I was just above the enemy seaplane station as one of the great biplanes started. I now carried out my reconnaissance, thinking to myself: “Well, he can bestir himself until he gets up as high as I!”But after forty minutes, when I looked on my left over the plane, I saw the enemy already gaining on me at a distance of only a few thousand metres. This meant to be on guard and climb higher. But my Taube simply refused to budge, and I could not gain another yard. A quarter of an hour only elapsed before the other chap had outdistanced me, and was coming diagonally across my trail, trying to cut me off from the road to Kiao-Chow.It was now a matter for betting who would first reach Kiao-Chow, but I won the race. When I returned to my aerodrome I simply dived down, and no sooner did I reach theground than bombs were bursting all around us.It is extraordinary how they sometimes find their mark!Strict orders had been given at Kiao-Chow that everybody should make for cover as soon as an enemy airman was sighted. We had only two casualties—a non-commissioned officer and a Chinese. And that was quite marvellous enough. On my aerodrome I had about one hundred coolies, and they always sped to safety. One day, however, a native remained standing in the middle of the ground, all on his lonesome, staring at the large bird. Bang! A bomb hurtled through the air and exploded but a few paces away. The poor devil was badly hit. To have really bad luck there is no easier way than to be on the spot where shells and other heavy missiles are flying about.CHAPTER VIHURRAH!HOW did things look at Kiao-Chow in the meantime? The bombardment from the sea had become a daily occurrence, and soon the land batteries added their boom to the hellish discord. There was no longer any safety apart from the bomb-proof redoubts and localities. The firing became heavier and heavier, and on some days from the sea alone several hundred 30-centimetre, half-naval shells were shot into little Kiao-Chow.On the 14th of October our naval fortifications of Hu-Chuin-Huk were directly under fire. The enemy ships were far out at sea, and after the second volley the little outpost was submerged beneath a deluge of heavy shells. Now volley followed volley. The whole fortifications disappeared from sight behind the columns of water, flames and smoke, and the rumbling and crashingof the bursting shells set the earth a-tremble.As usual, I stood that morning on the Coast-commander’s look out, about 1000 metres from the fort, and so witnessed this terrifying spectacle at first hand.Sometimes the yard-long shell splinters flew whirring and hissing weirdly over our heads, without our paying any attention to them, as we were so engrossed by what we saw, which was so stupendous that no words could fittingly describe it.We thought with deep sorrow of the brave garrison and of their sure destruction; but suddenly, in the midst of the heaviest fire, our old 24-centimetre gun fired one shot, and our field-glasses were immediately fixed on the enemy ships.Suddenly a joyful and triumphant “Hurrah!” burst from our lips, for one of our explosive shells had hit the English warshipTriumphplumb in the middle of her deck.Triumphveered at once and ran away for all she was worth, and when our second shell sped after her a little later it was only able to hit the water about 50 metres from her stern.Triumphsteamed away after a few signals, which she exchanged with the Japanese flagship, and went off to Yokohama for repairs.The three Japanese ships continued their bombardment—now at a more respectful distance—so that it was useless to fire any longer with our old guns, which could not travel half as far.At midday the bombardment ceased at last, the enemy being justified by that time in assuming that the fort was destroyed and all its inmates killed.The staff of the Coast-commander at once hurried to Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk; and I also followed in my motor-car.Still under the impression of the terrible spectacle of the bombardment, we were most surprised on our arrival to see the whole garrison merrily tearing round, collecting splinters and admiring the huge craters which the enemy shells had dug in the ground.What luck! Not a man wounded, not a gun injured, not a hit on the bomb-proof rooms!The whole result of the heavy bombardment amounted to a broken biscuit-tin anda soldier’s shirt, which was hanging out to dry, and was torn to shreds! It was strange to think that 51-and 30½-centimetre guns were used to such purpose!A heavy shell had passed clean through the thin steel turrets, and lay peacefully near the gun on the iron plates!Now we learned the secret of our lucky hit—our guns had in reality only a carrying range of 160-100. But the gunners had with infinite pains succeeded in raising the gun several sixteenths of a degree higher, and so it carried 200 to 300 metres farther.Having loaded the breech at its highest angle, the brave gunners and their gallant Battery-commander, Oberleutnant Hasshagen, had quietly stuck to their guns under the heaviest shell-fire, until at last one of the ships came within hitting distance. And the best of it was that it hit the right target! It is a pity that theTriumphran away so quickly, otherwise she would not have escaped her fate on that day. But, for all that, it overtook her a little later.What we could not achieve was accomplished in the spring of 1915 by our friend Hersing, when he, with his U-boat, sent thissameTriumphto the bottom of the sea in the Dardanelles, thus avenging the garrison of Kiao-Chow. We owe him a debt of gratitude for this service.Ties of sincere friendship bound me to the officers and the garrison of Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk.I did not really belong to them, for in the first place my aerodrome lay close to the fort, and, in the second, they regularly watched my start, and, above all, my endeavours to get clear of their guns. And more than once the men stood ready to jump into the sea and to save me, for they thought I was falling into the water with my machine.But as often as I was a guest of the remarkable Commander of the Fort, Kapitänleutnant Kopp, we painted our triumphant return to Germany after the war in the most glowing colours, and had of course decided that I should march in with the garrison of Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk.On the 17th of October, late in the evening, a group of officers assembled on the Coast-commander’s stand and waited in breathless suspense for her commander, KapitänleutnantBrunner, to run the blockade with his torpedo-boat destroyer S.90.Two evenings before he had been out in a gallant endeavour to lay mines on the track of the Japanese ships. To-day he was going to fulfil his last and most difficult task—to break through the line of the enemy torpedo-boat destroyers and attack one of the enemy ships. It was a clear night, and there would be no moon after ten. The time came. Ten struck, then 10.30—the tension became unbearable. Nothing could be seen of S.90. Suddenly—it was eleven—we perceived a narrow, grey shadow which carefully moved on the water under the Pearl Mountains. And soon our sharp sailors’ eyes recognized the shape of the torpedo boat. “Good luck to your brave men!” Our hearts accompanied them with our warmest wishes. The boat disappeared from our sight, and soon the dangerous moment was at hand, when they would have to break through the enemy lines. Our eyes were glued in fascination on the open sea, expecting the flashing of the searchlights and the thunder of the guns at any moment.But all was silence.It was midnight. Another half-hour sped by—we breathed more easily, for the enemy was still in ignorance of the coming attack. By this time our boat must have reached the bulk of the fleet. The minutes turned into hours. No one spoke.Suddenly at 1 a.m., far away towards the south on the open sea, a huge fire-column, and then from all sides the lurid, groping fingers of the searchlights and a distant muttering and vibrating.Hurrah! That was the work of S.90. And already at 1.30 we received the following wireless:“Have attacked enemy cruisers with three torpedoes, registered three hits. Cruiser blew up at once. Am hunted by torpedo-boat destroyers, return Kiao-Chow cut off, trying escape south, and, if necessary, shall explode boat.Brunner.”This wire is sufficient praise for Commander, officers and crew.A few weeks later, without premonition, I met the S.90 at Nanking—but that is another story.
SOME JAPANESE JOKES
WE were greatly puzzled by the activity of the Japanese besieging army. After the first bombardment we all thought that the Japanese would try to carry the fortress by assault, as they could not fail to know how weak we were, and that but a single wire entanglement stood between them and us.
The wildest rumours were circulated in our midst: “The Japanese dare not attack us, as things are going so well for us in Europe!” or “The Americans are sending their fleet to our assistance, and will force the Japs to retire!” And then again, “The Japs only want to starve us out; they want Kiao-Chow to fall into their hands with as little damage as possible!”
But we never got beyond mere conjectures. Quietly and systematically, and without our being able to prevent them, the Japaneselanded their troops, constructed roads and railways, brought up heavy artillery and ammunition, entrenched themselves before our entanglements and slowly worked towards our defence-line.
I now started on my principal job—to reconnoitre the position of the enemy’s heavy batteries.
Every day, whenever the weather permitted—and the propeller!—in the early dawn, as soon as it was light, I started on my travels into the unknown. And when the sun rose I hung like a silver speck high up in the ether, circling for hours round the enemy’s positions, and overlooking the whole of our beloved Protectorate invaded by an impudent enemy, who meant to corner and destroy us.
My work was hard, but I enjoyed it, and it was crowned with success, and the enemy’s unceasing efforts to shoot me down convinced me that Iwassuccessful.
As I mentioned before, I was now the only aviator at Kiao-Chow—“the Master-Bird of Kiao-Chow,” as the Chinese called me. Also I had but a single Taube at my disposal. I had to be careful and take no unnecessaryrisks, otherwise there would have been an end to my job.
This was the way I carried out my reconnoitring.
As soon as I was flying right over the enemy I throttled my engine in such a fashion that it kept the altitude of its own accord. I then hung my map on the stick, took a pencil and a notebook, and observed what was happening below through the space between the planes and the tail. I let go the stick, and steered solely with my feet.
I then circled round a position until I had thoroughly mastered its details, made a sketch of them, and entered them in my notebook. I soon acquired such proficiency that I was able to write and draw uninterruptedly for an hour or two. When I felt the back of my neck getting stiff, I turned round and looked down on the other side. I did this until I was satisfied with my notes, and sometimes I was so carried away by my work that I had to be warned by a glance at my petrol-recorder that it was high time I went home.
I always returned the same way. I flewround the wharves and the town in proud circles, and when I reached my aerodrome I shut off the engine and shot down to earth in a steep, gliding flight, which landed me safe and sound in four minutes. For it was necessary to be quick. Infantry and machine-gun fire were continuously directed at my aeroplane while it flew over the enemy’s positions; when this proved of no avail, the enemy used shrapnel, and this was most objectionable.
The Japanese always had new surprises in store for me. One day, for instance—a day of blue sky and glorious sunshine—as I was returning from a reconnaissance and about to land, I saw a great number of fleecy white clouds, which looked perfectly delightful seen from above, hovering over my aerodrome at an altitude of about 300 metres.
But I soon noticed that the Japanese were trying on one of their little jokes, for these pretty cloudlets were caused by the firing of 10½-centimetre shrapnels!
There was nothing to be done but to grind one’s teeth and fight one’s way through. Four minutes later my machine droppedfrom an altitude of 2000 metres, and I pushed it as quickly as I could under a shed, whose roof was protected by earth.
I had now to resort to ruse.
Sometimes, when still hovering over the enemy camp, I suddenly shut off my engine and swooped down perpendicularly on to a corner of my aerodrome, so that the Japs were convinced that they had winged me. By the time they recovered from their surprise I was already pushing my machine into safety, their shrapnel bursting much too late.
But, as I tirelessly returned, the Japanese retaliated by posting two of their 10½-centimetre batteries so far behind and so much on the side that their shrapnel easily reached me whilst I was circling over their heads. It was very unpleasant, and my fate would often have been sealed but for my nimbleness in taking a sharp turn and thus evading a hit.
The shrapnels then burst so near that in spite of the noise of the engine I could hear the ugly bark of the explosion and feel the violent air-pressure that sent my aeroplane rolling like an old bargeat sea, which made observation extremely difficult.
I must say that each time I landed safely I felt an overwhelming pride and satisfaction in my achievement, and halloed joyously with the full power of my lungs.
After hours of the greatest exertion and danger, I again felt solid earth under my feet, and in spite of guns and shrapnel.
As soon as I touched ground my four helpers came on the run, fearless of danger from the hail of shrapnel, and helped me to stow away my machine. My faithful dog, Husdent, jumped around them, barking joyously.
And whilst the four were busy getting my aeroplane ready for the next flight, I already sat at the steering-wheel of my car, all my maps and reports in my pocket, with Husdent at my side, and again raced along the road under shrapnel fire to Government House, where my reports were being eagerly awaited.
I believe anybody will sympathize with my joy and pride when I was allowed to present my drawings and observations. For on some days I had been able to discoveras many as five or six enemy batteries, and often my observations filled four pages of the report forms.
The warm handshake with which the Governor and the Head of the Staff thanked me for my work was reward enough.
And whilst I drove homewards, in order to lunch and take a much-needed rest, I already heard the thundering of our guns as they hurtled their iron hailstones into the positions of the enemy just discovered by me.
MY WAR RUSE
HOW sad and desolate it now looked in my little house!
Immediately at the beginning of the siege, my good Patzig was obliged to leave me and to rejoin his 21-centimetre Battery-commander. He had only luxuriated for four weeks in the possession of our beautiful little home, and now he sat in his redoubt and fulfilled his duty until he had fired his last shell and the Japanese, with their heavy howitzers, had levelled to the ground the whole of his battery.
As soon as the first shot was fired, my Chinese cook, Moritz, faithlessly left me in the lurch, and one evening I found that also Fritz, Max and August had vanished without trace.
After a few days a new Chinese cook—Wilhelm—appeared on the scene, and recounted with emphatic gestures:
“Kind Master, me plenty good cook; me no lun away like bad fellow Molitz; me havee no fear; me makee plenty good chau-chau.”
I believed him, promised to give him five dollars and more. Things went fairly well, until one day the first enemy shells burst close to my house, and Herr Wilhelm as promptly disappeared as his predecessors.
I now sat alone in my deserted home with my faithful batman, Dorsch. We were the only inhabitants of the whole villa quarter of Iltis Bay.
Not exactly a safe or pleasant spot, for the villas were built on the hill which carried our chief batteries, and the enemy shells which whizzed past them landed straight in our midst. But we were very cautious. That is to say, we left our top floor and settled down comfortably and safely on the ground floor. As a further precaution we placed our beds in a corner, in such a way that they were far from a window, and thus we secured sufficient immunity. It was, however, lucky that no heavy shell challenged this position.
But I did not remain for long in sole control of the air.
On the forenoon of the 5th of September, under an overcast sky, with low-hanging clouds, we suddenly heard the purring of a motor, and I ran home to see what had happened. I was hardly there when an immense biplane shot into sight close over our heads. I was speechless, and peered dazedly at the apparition. Soon, however, the first explosions rent the air, and I now perceived the round red balls under the planes.
It was a Jap!
I must say that I felt rather queer on beholding my huge enemy colleague floating so near us in the sky. A bright outlook for the future!
Kiao-Chow regarded the advent of the enemy airman as a most disagreeable surprise, for no one had expected that the Japs would be equipped with aircraft.
On the whole, they eventually produced eight aeroplanes, amongst them four gigantic seaplanes, for whose possession I heartily envied the Japs. How often in the ensuing weeks did I gaze longingly at them, as they circled round the town, and wish for one!
The Japs flew well and with extraordinary pluck. It is lucky, however, that theirbomb-dropping was not on a par with it, otherwise it would have been a bad look out for us. The Japanese bombs were heavy, of recent construction, and most destructive.
The enemy seaplanes also had a tremendous advantage over us. They were able to take off at a great distance, without consideration of the wind, with as much space for turning out as they could wish for; and when they had ascended with the greatest security to the altitude of 3000 metres they swooped down upon us, and simply jeered at our shrapnels and machine-guns.
One of the chief aims of the enemy was to destroy my hangar. Soon matters became so unpleasant for my aerodrome that one fine day I decided that it was time to stop my enemy colleagues’ little game.
My real shed lay at the northern end of the ground; it made a splendid target, and the Japanese knew its location by heart. I now built unobtrusively a new shed on the opposite side, close to a mountain slope, covering it with clods of earth and grass, so that nothing of it could be noticed from above. We then proceeded with deep cunningand malice to the erection of a bogus aeroplane, with the help of planks, sailing canvas and tin. From above it looked exactly like my Taube. And after that, the moment an enemy aviator was in sight, we played a little comedy.
On some days the doors of my old shed were wide open, and my imitation Taube sprawled in front of it on the beautiful green grass. On others the shed was closed and nothing to be seen. Another day my sham machine sat in a different place, where it could be spotted at once. Now the enemy aviators arrived and dropped bombs and bombs in their endeavours to hit the innocent bird. Whilst this was going on we sat in the real aeroplane, well protected by our roof, holding our sides with laughter as we saw the bombs seeking their bogus victim.
Once when we had been specially deluged with them, I picked out a fine splinter from a Japanese aviation bomb, affixed my visiting card to it and wrote:
“Kindest greetings to the enemy colleagues! Why do you shy at us with such hard objects? If you aren’t careful you will end by hurting us! It isn’t done.”
I took this letter on my next flight and dropped it in front of the Japanese seaplane station.
But this was only to announce my visit.
In the meantime one of our men had been preparing bombs for me. Simply marvellous specimens! Huge tin boxes of 4 lb. each, on which could be read in big letters: “Sietas, Plambeck & Co., best Java coffee.” They were filled with dynamite, horseshoe nails and scrap iron, a lead spar fixed to the bottom and a fuse at the top. It was exploded by a sharp iron point which hit the percussion-cap of a cartridge. All these things seemed pretty uncanny to me, and I handled them with the greatest caution—always happy when I had done with them. But they never caused much damage. Once I hit a torpedo boat, and even then it did not explode; on several occasions I just missed a convoy. And once I learned through Japanese reports that I had dropped a bomb into the midst of a Japanese marching column and sent thirty yellow ones to the nether regions!
I soon got over the first pleasant emotionof bombing. My time was fully occupied apart from it, and the results did not justify the time I lost.
I often met my enemy colleagues in the air. I did not hanker for these meetings, for I could do little with my slow, laboriously climbing Taube against the huge biplanes which carried a crew of three men. Above all, I dared not forget that my chief object was reconnoitring, and after that to bring back my machine to Kiao-Chow in good condition.
Once I was busily engaged on my observations, when my aeroplane began to pitch and toss. I thought this was due to bumps in the air, caused by the many steep and rugged mountains of this country which made flying extraordinarily difficult. Without even looking up, I went on taking observations, only grasping the control-lever with one hand in order to keep the aeroplane steady.
After my return I was informed, to my great surprise, that an enemy plane had flown so closely on top of me that they thought I should be shot down.
Next time I was more careful. And onsighting one of my enemy colleagues I followed and shot him down with my Parabellum pistol, after firing thirty times.
A short time afterwards I nearly shared his fate. I was only at an altitude of 1700 metres, and in spite of the greatest efforts I could not get any higher. I was just above the enemy seaplane station as one of the great biplanes started. I now carried out my reconnaissance, thinking to myself: “Well, he can bestir himself until he gets up as high as I!”
But after forty minutes, when I looked on my left over the plane, I saw the enemy already gaining on me at a distance of only a few thousand metres. This meant to be on guard and climb higher. But my Taube simply refused to budge, and I could not gain another yard. A quarter of an hour only elapsed before the other chap had outdistanced me, and was coming diagonally across my trail, trying to cut me off from the road to Kiao-Chow.
It was now a matter for betting who would first reach Kiao-Chow, but I won the race. When I returned to my aerodrome I simply dived down, and no sooner did I reach theground than bombs were bursting all around us.
It is extraordinary how they sometimes find their mark!
Strict orders had been given at Kiao-Chow that everybody should make for cover as soon as an enemy airman was sighted. We had only two casualties—a non-commissioned officer and a Chinese. And that was quite marvellous enough. On my aerodrome I had about one hundred coolies, and they always sped to safety. One day, however, a native remained standing in the middle of the ground, all on his lonesome, staring at the large bird. Bang! A bomb hurtled through the air and exploded but a few paces away. The poor devil was badly hit. To have really bad luck there is no easier way than to be on the spot where shells and other heavy missiles are flying about.
HURRAH!
HOW did things look at Kiao-Chow in the meantime? The bombardment from the sea had become a daily occurrence, and soon the land batteries added their boom to the hellish discord. There was no longer any safety apart from the bomb-proof redoubts and localities. The firing became heavier and heavier, and on some days from the sea alone several hundred 30-centimetre, half-naval shells were shot into little Kiao-Chow.
On the 14th of October our naval fortifications of Hu-Chuin-Huk were directly under fire. The enemy ships were far out at sea, and after the second volley the little outpost was submerged beneath a deluge of heavy shells. Now volley followed volley. The whole fortifications disappeared from sight behind the columns of water, flames and smoke, and the rumbling and crashingof the bursting shells set the earth a-tremble.
As usual, I stood that morning on the Coast-commander’s look out, about 1000 metres from the fort, and so witnessed this terrifying spectacle at first hand.
Sometimes the yard-long shell splinters flew whirring and hissing weirdly over our heads, without our paying any attention to them, as we were so engrossed by what we saw, which was so stupendous that no words could fittingly describe it.
We thought with deep sorrow of the brave garrison and of their sure destruction; but suddenly, in the midst of the heaviest fire, our old 24-centimetre gun fired one shot, and our field-glasses were immediately fixed on the enemy ships.
Suddenly a joyful and triumphant “Hurrah!” burst from our lips, for one of our explosive shells had hit the English warshipTriumphplumb in the middle of her deck.Triumphveered at once and ran away for all she was worth, and when our second shell sped after her a little later it was only able to hit the water about 50 metres from her stern.
Triumphsteamed away after a few signals, which she exchanged with the Japanese flagship, and went off to Yokohama for repairs.
The three Japanese ships continued their bombardment—now at a more respectful distance—so that it was useless to fire any longer with our old guns, which could not travel half as far.
At midday the bombardment ceased at last, the enemy being justified by that time in assuming that the fort was destroyed and all its inmates killed.
The staff of the Coast-commander at once hurried to Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk; and I also followed in my motor-car.
Still under the impression of the terrible spectacle of the bombardment, we were most surprised on our arrival to see the whole garrison merrily tearing round, collecting splinters and admiring the huge craters which the enemy shells had dug in the ground.
What luck! Not a man wounded, not a gun injured, not a hit on the bomb-proof rooms!
The whole result of the heavy bombardment amounted to a broken biscuit-tin anda soldier’s shirt, which was hanging out to dry, and was torn to shreds! It was strange to think that 51-and 30½-centimetre guns were used to such purpose!
A heavy shell had passed clean through the thin steel turrets, and lay peacefully near the gun on the iron plates!
Now we learned the secret of our lucky hit—our guns had in reality only a carrying range of 160-100. But the gunners had with infinite pains succeeded in raising the gun several sixteenths of a degree higher, and so it carried 200 to 300 metres farther.
Having loaded the breech at its highest angle, the brave gunners and their gallant Battery-commander, Oberleutnant Hasshagen, had quietly stuck to their guns under the heaviest shell-fire, until at last one of the ships came within hitting distance. And the best of it was that it hit the right target! It is a pity that theTriumphran away so quickly, otherwise she would not have escaped her fate on that day. But, for all that, it overtook her a little later.
What we could not achieve was accomplished in the spring of 1915 by our friend Hersing, when he, with his U-boat, sent thissameTriumphto the bottom of the sea in the Dardanelles, thus avenging the garrison of Kiao-Chow. We owe him a debt of gratitude for this service.
Ties of sincere friendship bound me to the officers and the garrison of Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk.
I did not really belong to them, for in the first place my aerodrome lay close to the fort, and, in the second, they regularly watched my start, and, above all, my endeavours to get clear of their guns. And more than once the men stood ready to jump into the sea and to save me, for they thought I was falling into the water with my machine.
But as often as I was a guest of the remarkable Commander of the Fort, Kapitänleutnant Kopp, we painted our triumphant return to Germany after the war in the most glowing colours, and had of course decided that I should march in with the garrison of Fort Hu-Chuin-Huk.
On the 17th of October, late in the evening, a group of officers assembled on the Coast-commander’s stand and waited in breathless suspense for her commander, KapitänleutnantBrunner, to run the blockade with his torpedo-boat destroyer S.90.
Two evenings before he had been out in a gallant endeavour to lay mines on the track of the Japanese ships. To-day he was going to fulfil his last and most difficult task—to break through the line of the enemy torpedo-boat destroyers and attack one of the enemy ships. It was a clear night, and there would be no moon after ten. The time came. Ten struck, then 10.30—the tension became unbearable. Nothing could be seen of S.90. Suddenly—it was eleven—we perceived a narrow, grey shadow which carefully moved on the water under the Pearl Mountains. And soon our sharp sailors’ eyes recognized the shape of the torpedo boat. “Good luck to your brave men!” Our hearts accompanied them with our warmest wishes. The boat disappeared from our sight, and soon the dangerous moment was at hand, when they would have to break through the enemy lines. Our eyes were glued in fascination on the open sea, expecting the flashing of the searchlights and the thunder of the guns at any moment.
But all was silence.
It was midnight. Another half-hour sped by—we breathed more easily, for the enemy was still in ignorance of the coming attack. By this time our boat must have reached the bulk of the fleet. The minutes turned into hours. No one spoke.
Suddenly at 1 a.m., far away towards the south on the open sea, a huge fire-column, and then from all sides the lurid, groping fingers of the searchlights and a distant muttering and vibrating.
Hurrah! That was the work of S.90. And already at 1.30 we received the following wireless:
“Have attacked enemy cruisers with three torpedoes, registered three hits. Cruiser blew up at once. Am hunted by torpedo-boat destroyers, return Kiao-Chow cut off, trying escape south, and, if necessary, shall explode boat.Brunner.”
“Have attacked enemy cruisers with three torpedoes, registered three hits. Cruiser blew up at once. Am hunted by torpedo-boat destroyers, return Kiao-Chow cut off, trying escape south, and, if necessary, shall explode boat.
Brunner.”
This wire is sufficient praise for Commander, officers and crew.
A few weeks later, without premonition, I met the S.90 at Nanking—but that is another story.