The history of the World War offers so little of romance and adventure that it is always refreshing to turn again to that gallant little band of German surface commerce raiders who took to the sea to pit themselves against the might of the British Fleet. Their cruises were replete with action and unmarred by any acts of cruelty. Their series of brilliant achievements and enterprising successes compose one of the most thrilling sections of naval warfare.
The Kronprinz Wilhelm was one of the most successful of these cruisers, standing third in the amount of shipping destroyed and being the last of the original lot to be finally hunted down. Unlike her two more successful rivals, the Emden and Karlsruhe, she was not a man-of-war and weakened the main German Fleet little. Built in 1901, she was comparatively old in 1914. Her tonnage was 15,000 and her quadruple expansion engines of 3,500 horsepower gave her the rather surprising speed of 23 knots. She burned an excessive amount of coal which was to be her eventual undoing. Her evaporators had been designed to supply a certain amount of make-up feed during transatlantic runs but were in no wise adequate for prolonged cruising. And yet she kept the sea for 251 consecutive days and cruised for nearly 40,000 miles without once disabling her engines. It was a grand game of hide and seek. Battle cruisers, cruisers, and armed merchant cruisers were seeking her; charts were being constantly studied and the most careful plans were being laid for her capture; but all to no purpose. Her hunting ground was the South Atlantic where her uncanny success in evading searching forces soon caused the exasperated English to dub her the “Mystery Cruiser.”
She slipped out of New York on the eve of the British declaration of war and managed to elude vessels lying in wait outside. Thus begun, her cruise was so to continue. An evasive “will-o’-the-wisp,” she seemed always just out of reach.
Once clear of the well-guarded waters near our Atlantic ports, she then proceeded to a rendezvous off the Bahamas where she met the Karlsruhe on August 6. Here she received her new commander, Lieutenant Commander Paul Thierfelder, an officer who had specialized in navigation and one who was to prove himself cool, courageous, resourceful, able, and prudent. Here also she received guns, gun crews, and ammunition. But unknown to the two ships, the H.M.S. Suffolk and Bristol were at this moment bearing down upon their rendezvous. These vessels were under the command of Admiral Cradock who was engaged in concentrating his forces in the northern part of his station and who was in equal ignorance of the close proximity of enemy vessels. In the middle of the transfer the approaching English cruisers were sighted. There was surprise on the English side and great confusion among the Germans. Time was too short to permit throwing off lines. They were cut with axes and the two raiders separated and fled on different courses. Cradock, with both his ships, followed the Karlsruhe which eventually escaped. Had the 26- knot Bristol been dispatched after the 23-knot Kronprinz, her saga would never have been written.
After her escape, the Kronprinz turned towards the Azores for a rendezvous with the German supply ship Walhalla which was set for August 18. The delay involved was spent in converting the merchantman into a raider. Guns were secured in place, look-out barrels were lashed to her fore- and mainmasts, the ship was painted war color, and the palatial grand saloon was converted into a reserve coalbin with brutal efficiency. During this period she was sighted and chased by a French cruiser but escaped under cover of darkness. This was the last that was to be seen of her by the enemy although she herself was to sight and evade searching vessels on more than one occasion.
After coaling from the Walhalla she proceeded to the southward to take up her career as a raider. However, her success was not immediate. On August 27 she stopped the Russian bark Pittan in mid-ocean, but allowed her to proceed as of too little value to warrant taking off her crew and feeding them for an indefinite period. She then crossed the Equator, not neglecting the time-honored ceremonies of the occasion, and on September 3 met the German supply ship Asuncion some 200 miles east of Cape San Roque. Now badly in need of coal and water, she was disappointed to find that the Karlsruhe had already stripped the Asuncion of most of her supplies.
The next day, September 4, she made her first prize. This was the British liner Indian Prince laden with a rich cargo. Captain Thierfelder took his prize more than 500 miles away from the trade routes before he considered it safe to stop and remove her coal and provisions. This became his standard method of operation. He would strike a trade route, usually near a focal center, capture a prize, and retire to a safe distance to unload her. It necessitated long intervals between captures but completely baffled the English who could never tell where or when he would strike and were kept guessing as to whether he had fled. They did, however, scatter their merchantmen from the trade routes, which made their capture more difficult.
After being unloaded, the Indian Prince was scuttled. The method of scuttling this and other prizes was much the same. During the unloading period, an especially trained crew removed the rusted nuts from the sea cocks one at a time and greased and replaced them. Adjoining spaces were opened up and all probable air pockets vented. When ready to sink the vessel, all nuts but two were removed. A man on a bowline tended from above then struck these off with a sledge. Boilers were left steaming and usually blew up, thus shortening the time of sinking. When time would not permit or the sinking progressed too slowly, dynamite was used to blow out the sides or ramming resorted to. The latter damaged the raider’s stem, so the fore peak was filled with concrete to provide a more serviceable ram. Afterwards floating debris was carefully collected to remove all traces from searching enemy cruisers.
On September 11, two days after sinking the Indian Prince, the Kronprinz fell in with another German supply ship, the Ebenburg, bringing among other things much needed fresh water, and on the 14th she was joined by the Prussia also bringing provisions and the ever needed coal. These ships, as well as most of the vessels sent out from time to time, had left a neutral port ostensibly to run the gauntlet back to Germany, but supplies could not be indefinitely provided in such a manner. Vessels so used were promptly interned on their return to port. The Allies began to protest most vigorously and increasing pressure was placed on neutrals everywhere to stop this method of supply.
It was at this time that Thierfelder learned by radio of an engagement which had begun in his vicinity between the German merchant raider Cap Trafalgar and the British merchant cruiser Carmania. With perhaps more courage than judgment he dashed off to the assistance of his badly out-matched confrere. His mission demanded that he escape detection and avoid all possible damage. Even so it is difficult to criticize him for responding to a comrade in distress. Fortunately for the future of the Kronprinz the battle ended before she could arrive.
On the 16th still a third steamer, the Santos, arrived with coal and provisions and for once Thierfelder found himself with adequate supplies. He was never so fortunate again and even now coaling and provisioning in the South Atlantic swell was to prove a trying and frequently dangerous task. The ships could not be kept apart as when taking on oil. Consequently they plunged and bumped together continuously with such damage as to eventually make a mangled and twisted wreck of the Kronprinz’s port side. It was trying work carried out with suppressed excitement and feverish speed. It was a race against the clock, against serious hull damage, against surprise by enemy cruisers. After each operation she leaked like a sieve and the German mechanics wrought miracles in caulking her battered seams.
Thierfelder’s practice was to always bring the prize (or supply vessel) alongside his port side with both vessels at bare steerageway. This speed was maintained throughout the transfer. The starboard side was never used but was kept clean and painted as a false front to show the World. When attacking a prize or approaching a neutral he was careful to show only his starboard and thus knowledge of his condition never reached the British.
But, returning to the narrative, coaling and provisioning from the Ebenburg and Prussia was not completed until the 20th, and due to heavy weather the Santos could not be brought alongside until the 25th. Even then the weather would only permit her alongside for short periods so that coaling was not finally completed until October 2. Meanwhile it was tough on the engineers and there was no rest for the artificers and their mates who worked night and day repairing damages.
As soon as he was finished with the Santos, Thierfelder returned to the trade routes, where on October 7 he had the good fortune to capture La Correntina with the then largest refrigerating space of any ship in the world. Her 3,500 tons of frozen beef were valued at more than $1,000,000 and 15,000,000 Britons lost their dinner when she was sunk. It is therefore small wonder that news of her loss sent the price of beef up two pence over all England.
La Correntina was armed with 4.7-in. guns whose history is a sad instance of muddle and delay. The guns were mounted, gun crews were on board, but she had not yet obtained ammunition! Thierfelder did not know this. Believing his own 3.4-in. guns to be no match for the enemy’s, he resorted to strategem. He approached at slow speed keeping his bow headed always directly at the other. Her master, unable to determine the number of stacks, did not suspect his hostile nature, but on the contrary believed the Kronprinz to be a British auxiliary and rather stupidly passed close aboard. Thierfelder then put on full speed and ranged close alongside before the astonished Englishman could realize his mistake. His surprise was so complete that the vessel was captured without even time to throw overboard the breech locks of her guns though the master did manage to dispose of a bag containing dispatches from the British Legation in Argentina.
During the unloading the captured guns were removed and mounted on the Kronprinz. But as no ammunition was ever obtained for them, they remained until the end in the same ignominious role of mere dummies.
After sinking La Correntina Thierfelder met another supply vessel, the Sierra Cordoba, to which he transferred his prisoners, but heavy seas so delayed provisioning that it was not until October 26 that he could again leave for the trade routes. Here, off the mouth of La Plata estuary, he captured the 4-masted iron bark Union laden with 3,000 tons of Welsh coal as well as with provisions. The bark was towed back to the vicinity of the Sierra Cordoba which he rejoined on November 1. As weather would permit, coaling was carried out intermittently from both the Sierra Cordoba and the Union. On November 14 the Sierra Cordoba had been unloaded and sent in with prisoners. On November 20 the Union still had 800 precious tons of coal on board, but she lay on her beam ends a battered and sinking hulk. The corresponding damage to the Kronprinz from the iron hull of the bark can readily be imagined. The prolonged bad weather and swells of the South Atlantic had again proved the worst enemy to be faced.
He then chased and captured another big French bark, the Anne Bretagne, which was promptly scuttled as all she carried was lumber.
Meanwhile British cruisers were continuing their unsuccessful search for the commerce destroyer. When it was learned that La Correntina had been sunk, Admiral Sturdee proceeded to sweep the area only to find her gone. As a matter of fact the fox had fled to a new hunting ground between Fernando de Noronha and St. Paul rocks in which the Karlsruhe had formerly operated and from whence Sturdee had withdrawn the Bristol and Macedonia to assist him in his sweep in the wrong direction. Here on December 4 she captured the English steamer Bellevue and on the same day the French liner Mont A gel. The latter attempted to broadcast for help but her calls were jambed by the raider. By this time the Kronprinz had mounted the radio set salvaged from La Correntina which was used as well as her own in jambing the Mont A gel's signals. She was invariably successful in jambing calls for help.
The Mont Agel, being in ballast, was promptly sent to the bottom but the Bellevue had coal and other useful cargo. She was carried to a safe distance from the trade routes to be unloaded. It was here that the raider was joined by the German steamer Otavi with some provisions but so little coal that it was necessary to share some of the Bellevue's precious supply with her.
On the 21st the Bellevue was sunk and the Otavi departed with prisoners. A week later the raider captured the British steamer Hemisphere with nearly 7,000 tons of coal on board, a godsend to the ever needy Kronprinz. It was not until January 7 that the Hemisphere was cast off and scuttled. On the previous day they were joined by another supply ship, the Holger, which had put out without clearance from Pernambuco on the first day of the new year. The prisoners were placed on board her and Thierfelder steamed back towards the trade routes once more, leaving the Holger to meet him at a new rendezvous. This was indeed fortunate. The Admiralty, through its incomparable intelligence service, already knew of their previous rendezvous. Even now three cruisers, the Highflyer, Marmora, and Empress of Britain, were racing down from the Cape Verde station to destroy at last their elusive prey.
It was at about this time that Thierfelder received a message from Berlin permitting him to lay himself up. This, to his credit, he chose to disregard. He felt, and it was proved, that there was still much that could be done before his course would be run.
On resuming operations he struck the trade route at a point much farther north. Here, on January 10, he captured the English steamer Potaro some 400 miles northeast of the St. Paul Rocks. Her master was guilty of inexplicable carelessness, for on board was found a chart showing the position of enemy cruisers. Once more the sweep of the searchers was to be but a blow in the air!
The Potaro, which was in ballast, was manned by a prize crew while Thierfelder struck out for further victims. On January 14 he captured the British owned Highland Brae, a freight and passenger steamer yielding 2,000 tons of coal. On that same day the small 3-masted wooden schooner Wilfred M. was taken. The latter was rammed, cutting it in two and the remaining portions apparently demolished by additional ramming. But for once Thierfelder proved careless, for a part of her remained derelict until April, 1915, when it finally drifted ashore on the island of Carriaco.
During the unloading of the Highland Brae he was again joined by the Potaro, but Thierfelder thought it time to return to the steamer routes and further unloading was postponed for a while. On February 3 he captured and destroyed the Norwegian bark Semantha with 3,000 tons of wheat for the English. Then, dogged as always by that one unrelenting item, coal, he returned next day to the Potaro.
Occasion should be taken here to comment upon the German treatment of their prisoners, particularly the children. The latter were invariably served ice cream and cake immediately upon their arrival on board. They were kept supplied with toys made by the German sailors. One particular buffoon, whose clowning delighted youngsters, was told off as their constant companion. The crew outdid themselves in teaching them new games and in providing them with amusement. Much of this doubtlessly sprang from the loneliness of men too long at sea, but it won the hearts of their helpless captives and orders to send in prisoners were always the occasion for wails and lamentations from the young.
No further prizes were taken until 10 days later when they captured the English steamer Chasehill with 4,000 tons of coal, and on February 23 they captured the richest prize of all, the French liner Guadeloupe. Quantities of uniform cloth and shoes for the French Army were like manna from heaven to the threadbare Germans. The Guadeloupe was sunk but a brief effort was made to use the Chasehill as a scout. When this did not prove successful she was sent into Pernambuco with prisoners, the only prize save the lowly Pittan to escape destruction.
In this particular case Thierfelder perpetrated upon his enemies as neat a practical joke as can be found in the pages of history. The Chasehill was at the moment a lawful prize of war belonging to Germany. As her custodian he delivered her not into the hands of her former British master but into the hands of the former master and crew of the French liner Guadeloupe. Her own master and crew were sent on board as passengers. To the huge delight of the Germans a riot almost broke out before the Kronprinz could be cleared. Indeed the obvious fury of the British against their erstwhile friends and allies the “Frenchies” was enough to bring tears of laugher to the eyes of the crew for months to come. Naturally the Frenchmen continued to claim ownership after arrival at Pernambuco and the friction threatened to spread. Eventually the French government ordered her return to the English, with what grace we will never know.
The career of the raider was now drawing to a close. Boilers and machinery had been operating too long without overhaul or cleaning, too many ships had pounded the port side, and the men had been too long at sea. Always fearful lest the hunters pounce, ever nervous lest the upper works of the next stranger evolve into the bridge of a cruiser, learning daily through intercepted messages of a net that grows ever tighter, and denied the pleasures and relaxations of even an occasional visit ashore, the morale of a crew must inevitably suffer. Besides improper diet was taking its toll. At the time of the capture of the Guadeloupe there were two cases of beriberi on board. These increased rapidly until, when the engines gave their final wheezing clank, more than 60 men were hospitalized.
But Thierfelder, still determined to carry on, returned to the trade routes and managed to capture the Royal Mail liner Tamar and the English steamer Coleby in quick succession. Each time hopes were dashed to discover they were carrying little coal. Finally he turned again from the trade routes to meet the German steamer Macedonia. As he was approaching the rendezvous from the eastward late on the afternoon of March 28, Thierfelder sighted what had been his hourly dread since the beginning of the cruise. In the words of one of her officers: “Many masts and funnels were seen jutting up from the western horizon and outlined against the golden surface of a fast sinking sun like thin black prison bars.” The British Intelligence Service had scored at last. They had captured the Macedonia while the Kronprinz, blinded by a setting sun, had steamed straight into the trap. Hope dying hard, the Germans still prayed that they had not been sighted. To turn away and expose the ship’s long profile would bring certain discovery and capture. Slowly she began to back keeping her prow pointed always to the west. With tense excitement, all on board waited for signs of pursuit, but none seemed to come. As minute added to precious minute, speed was gradually increased until she was backing at 20 knots. The unbelievable was happening. After half an hour the last trace of the enemy had dropped below the horizon and they were at last able to go ahead and slip away through the fast falling darkness.
The fox had escaped once more but now his position was critical. Both coal and water were nearly gone while he was many miles from a trade route. Desperately he turned towards the North Atlantic to sight nothing more than an American whaler under full sail. So on April 10 the hunted vessel swung toward the Virginia Capes and prepared once more to run the gauntlet of English cruisers guarding the seaward approaches to American ports. That night she managed to slip through 6 of these vessels. On her arrival at Newport News, she had but 25 tons of coal remaining in her bunkers.
During her more than 8 months of continuous cruising, the 15,000-ton vessel had sunk more than 58,000 tons of enemy shipping. Unlike the Karlsruhe and Emden she had no bases at which she could coal in safety and no adequate system of supply ships. Those she did meet seldom provided much coal. For the 40,000 tons she burned she was obliged to rely mainly upon her prizes.
It would be a fitting tribute to the brilliant efforts of Thierfelder and other raider commanders to say that their activities had proved of great assistance to the mother country. Unhappily this is not true. They succeeded in exasperating the enemy, but never critically endangered the Allied lines of supply. They were never to remotely approach the effectiveness of the submarine.
The lesson is plain to see. Without some convenient and fortified base the cruiser raider can have only a limited life. However brilliant her career, it cannot last unless there is some degree of control of the sea in her area or lack of enemy control. Aircraft, as we use them, today will prove a 2-edged sword. The commerce destroyer will be assisted by her own in seeking out prey. Those of the enemy will shorten the days she can remain at sea undetected.