AT SEA: Heroes & Heroics

The war’s individual heroes and villains, its personal adventure and romance, continued to come from under, on and over the sea. Submarines and their adversaries, rather than soldiers fighting soldiers or planes fighting planes provided the best stories. And apropos a submarine, versatile, witty Winston Churchill fired the first shot of war humor to echo round the world.

Telling the House of Commons about a personal wireless message addressed to him by the submarine commander who sank the Philbine, Mr. Churchill said: “I was in some doubt at the time as to what address I should direct my reply. However, he is now in our hands and he will be treated with all consideration.”

Columbia Broadcasting System at once asked the British Admiralty to let them have this eminent prisoner for a broadcast. The Admiralty hemmed & hawed. It took Berlin only 48 hours to trump Mr. Churchill’s ace. There CBS was supplied with a voice which said it belonged to Captain Herbert Schultze, commander of the U-48 which sank the Philbine. In reply to urbane Mr. Churchill this voice said: “He had apparently got my position wrong.”

“Captain Schultze” also said he was the man who torpedoed the Royal Sceptre on September 7, whose 32 survivors turned up last week in Bahia, Brazil aboard the British freighter Browning (minus their Captain Mestre, who apparently went down with the ship). “Schultze” said that, after sinking the Royal Sceptre, he set out to intercept the Browning because “I wanted to tell the Browning to take the course of the Royal Sceptre. The Browning sighted us, and to my surprise the crew manned the boats in a panic. Before I could even draw closer to give my peaceful message, all the passengers and crew of the Browning had left the ship. I now had to make it clear to those terrified people that they were to get back into the boat again and save the crew of the Royal Sceptre. The joy and relief of those in the boats surprised us. Did they believe us to be barbarians? Taking to the boats in a panic like that as soon as a German U-boat comes in sight! The captain of the Browning, to my great astonishment, obeyed my orders to save the crew of the Royal Sceptre, and also he respected my order not to make use of his radio until he should reach port. . . .”

Unnamed Captain. Another broadcaster from Berlin last week purported to be the U-boat commander who sank the carrier Courageous, for which feat he was said to have received, besides the Fuhrer’s congratulations, the Iron Cross, first class, his crew the Iron Cross, second class. Excerpts from his account of that performance:

“I see the upper deck structure, and extend the periscope a little. It’s an aircraft carrier. I see two airplanes. I see destroyers. I know it will be a tough task. But hurt the enemy whenever you can. Let’s go. . . .

“Every man knows that ultimately he may lose everything, or, again, may win everything. The chase under water continues for an hour. The aircraft carrier zigzags back and forth. It knows a submarine is near. … I see destroyers go by before me.

“Now or never. Fire! Then I pull the periscope down, quickly to the starboard. There is breathless tension in the boat.

“Suddenly there is a metallic crash, another metallic crash, then roaring, then many smaller explosions. Every throat suppresses exultation. We are not happy long. Suddenly the whirring sound of destroyers’ screws is heard above . . . now the battle with the destroyer continues for an hour under water.”

The U-boat’s purported engineer finished the story: “We listened for what must come—depth charges. And they came so that the ship shivered. We listened to the ship shiver and shake in every joint. But it held together.

“We were quiet* and the destroyers moved away.”

¶he British Ministry of Information countered these heroics with excerpts from the log of an R. A. F. pilot on Atlantic submarine patrol duty:

“A fine trail of oil was observed coming to the surface in a series of bubbly patches. Sea markers were dropped. The oil was seen to be moving ahead at this point at two knots.

“After 15 minutes of careful observation, bombs were dropped ahead of and across the foremost oil patch. In the centre, while circles were made by bombs, a great quantity of oil suddenly gushed to the surface, a much wider trail of oil began to move slowly forward about one knot.

“A second attack was made along the oil trail slightly ahead of it. Oil again gushed up for 30 minutes. No further movement of any sort was seen.”

“Where’s the Bremen?” Continued Mystery No. 1 of World War II. Winston Churchill joined the game by declaring she “is believed to be in a north Russian port.” Some Estonian sailors who arrived in Malmö, Sweden, said they had seen the Bremen in Murmansk, Soviet harbor on the Barents Sea, 350 miles southeast of North Cape. No one confirmed their story, but it gained general credence. Obvious reason for Germany’s not crowing about the Bremen’s escape: she may be refitted as a fast (30-knot) raider.

At Raufarhöfn, a trading post in northern Iceland, landed a British seaplane last week with crew of nine. They said they were lost in fog (looking for the Bremen?). They promised to obey the Government’s orders. They were paroled. Two days later, instead of flying, as agreed, to Reykjavik where they would presumably have been interned for the war’s duration,† they hopped off at sunrise, disappeared toward home. Denmark duly “protested.” Britain duly promised to “investigate.”

*Usual maneuver is to sit on bottom, motors off. For anti-submarine tactics, see p. 66.

†As proof of their neutrality, neutrals are supposed, under the Air Welfare Rules drawn up after the Washington arms-limitation conference of 1922, to fire on belligerent planes crossing their territory, to intern all aviators (like soldiers or sailors) taken alive.