by Erich Topp
August 2, 1934
Field Marshal von Hindenburg is dead. Whoever has not yet noticed that our flag flies at half-mast learns of the Reich President's death in a brief memorial address delivered by our commanding officer. His words: A life dedicated to duty, sacrifice, and faith in Germany has come to an end. But what Hindenburg will be remembered the most for, what will indeed make him immortal, is his contribution to the new Reich. The Reich President was well aware of the farreaching significance of his decision to become the patron of the National Socialist movement. Aware of his responsibilities and concerned about the destiny of the Reich, he joined the best elements of the past with the political forces of a rejuvenated and future-oriented Germany. By doing so he laid the foundation for the reconstruction of the Reich.
Such was the diction used everywhere in those days. Captain Mewis's words were no different from what hundreds of Nazi officials from local representatives to the highest leadership had to say.
August 9, 1934
We enter the port of Helsingfors [Helsinki], Finland. This afternoon I met a man from Wurttemberg. He told me why he had left Germany: economic reasons, as usual. Deep down, however, he could never get away from Germany. He returned home at the beginning of the World War to experience life in his fatherland for five years, but eventually he decided to leave again because he felt restricted by the many limitations on his life, pulled away by the promise of more breathing space abroad.
He also told me about the plight of the local German colony here, a plight that is more emotional than economic. As everywhere abroad, he explained, the press is for the most part influenced by Jewish interests. After January 30, 1933 [the day of Hitler's installment as Reich Chancellor], the press disseminated atrocity stories of the wildest kind in order to direct the mood of the Finnish people against the handful of Germans here. He suggested that I exercise caution in my public remarks and not praise without reservations the ideas of the new Germany. He assured me, however, that the German colony stood behind the Fizhrer and his ideology.
He talked much about the Finnish countryside, which he had come to love as if it were German soil. And yet, from his gestures and behavior and from looking into his eyes, you could tell how much he missed his native Wurttemberg. 1 tried to make him feel better by sharing with him my impressions about the new Germany.
August 10, 1934
Since Germany is in a state of mourning, the German colony has arranged an excursion to the old Swedish fortress Sveaborg in lieu of more festive ceremonies. As we march toward the southern end of the port, we pass the memorial for those Germans who fell while helping the Finns gain their independence from Russia, some 400 men altogether. To commemorate those times and to honor the dead, we form a circle around the memorial. Names like Admiral Alexander Meurer and General Komar von der Goltz remind us never to forget the 400 men whose actions and death helped bring freedom to the Finnish people.
August 12, 1934
A ceremony in Hammskar. On November 17, 1917, having successfully penetrated Russian minefields, the German U-boat UC 57 reached the area of lowlying, rocky islands near Hammskar. It carried war materiel crucial to Finland's continued struggle for freedom. The boat also took along an eight-man Finnish scout unit whose task was to destroy bridges on the Karelian Isthmus and thus sever communications to Russia. The following morning UC 57 left to return to safety and was never seen again.
Twenty-seven Germans went down with the boat. To express its gratitude the Finnish government built a granite memorial in the island district of Lovisa not far from Hammskar. While our commanding officer makes the six-hour trip on the coastal battleship Vaindmoinen, and our executive and division officers do the same on a submarine, we reach the island aboard the gunboat Turunmaa. An old Russian boat, it is now being used to train cadets. We are welcomed most cordially, and before long we are engaged in a lively conversation in the course of which we get to appreciate and respect our Finnish counterparts more and more. Those six hours have given me a good insight into the conditions the Finns face, and also into their recent history. Not those Mongolian-looking faces in the port district have created the Finnish state, but rather a type of man like the ones we met aboard the Turunmaa-disciplined, ascetic, manly; with faces etched by determination; modest, reserved, taciturn, and always eager to make their guests as comfortable as possible. Their ideology reflects the same principle as oursindeed, that of all young peoples. As Nietzsche once put it, "If you despise comfort and a soft bed, if you distance yourself from weaklings as much as you can: that is the true source of your virtue."
They tell us openly what is on their minds. Our conversation touches primarily on military matters.
Our itinerary takes us through a beautiful district of low, rocky islands off the coast. Only a few vessels can navigate the narrow channel. The strength of the Finnish fleet rests on its small craft, all of which have the capacity to lay mines. In fact, mines are Finland's principal weapon. In case of war it is easy enough to block the ship channel with mines. This strategy is even reflected in the wide bellies of the submarines that follow in our wake. They, too, are full of mines.
August 13, 1934
At 9 A.M. we leave Helsingfors. A sinister spirit seems to be haunting the ship. Physical exercises are being reintroduced, including entirely new ones. At first they take place below deck, apparently for practice purposes. In the afternoon, more exercises on a larger scale. Our starboard watch undergoes a thorough inspection of clothes and uniforms, followed by "Flagge Luci" [so named after the colors of the signal flag for the letter "L", i.e., blue-white-blue] in all its variations. The narrow confinement of our quarters under deck is worse than at Stralsund, but at least it is bearable. Things can get out of control, however, when you find your clothes strewn all over, with comrades dashing here and there at top speed. In their haste and excitement they tend to step on your possessions and make them dirty, and later it takes an hour to gather everything together again.
Comment:
Flagge Luci was a new form of chicanery. It went like this: "All hands to the upper deck!" Then the order: "Change into white uniforms in three minutes!" We had to dash down to our quarters, change from blue to white uniforms, and reappear on the upper deck within three minutes. Once reassembled, we were told to change into blue again and be back in three minutes; then it was white again, and so on. This game could go on for an eternity.
During one of these exercises I forgot to secure my locker properly. Immediately, our corporal emptied its entire contents onto the floor, including all my underwear. My comrades had little choice but to step on it while changing their clothes. Afterwards it took hours until everything was neatly cleaned and ironed.
To be assigned duty in the corporals' quarters, or U-Raurn, was an especially hated task. We all had to do it at least once, and for everyone it was a hellish experience. There the corporals were among themselves and could mistreat us at will without fear of being disciplined. Some slept in bunks, others in hammocks. For reasons never quite clear to me, they preferred to sleep in their underwear. When you arrived early in the morning you would find the air indescribably poor and stifling. Half the men were still asleep, some were in the process of getting up, others were already eating breakfast amidst cigarette stubs and half-emptied beer glasses from the night before. The stench was so bad it took your breath away. The order to remove the cover from the parrot cage, so that the poor bird might breathe some fresh air, seemed to me the height of hypocrisy.
One day, when I was on duty down there, Maltus-"Tiger of the Baltic," as he was known-expressed his opinion of me and my comrades as follows: "The era of privileges for officer cadets is over. The only reason why you can wear regular shirts and ties with your uniforms [while all enlisted personnel had to run around in traditional sailors' outfits] is your parents' financial ability to send you to secondary schools. But times have changed, and we will show you how. Just wait."
Not long afterwards my comrade Wald
ecker was on duty in the corporals' quarters. In a seemingly jovial tone one of the men, Tom Schark, involved him in a conversation. Schark was known to be hot-tempered and vengeful toward those who slighted him. "Well, Waldecker, what will be your next command, cruiser Emden or cruiser Karlsruhe?" "Emden, Sir!" "Well, in that case you better be careful that the cannibals don't eat you." "Sir, if I can manage to survive in the petty officers' quarters, there should be absolutely nothing to fear from those cannibals." The next thing we heard was a horrible noise and outcry from the direction of the U-Rauin, and moments later Waldecker came dashing up the companion hatch, pale but once again in control of his emotions. In the weeks that followed, until we left the Gorcli Fock, he had to suffer terribly.
Diary:
August 26, 1934
The entire day, as everywhere in the Reich, is marked by the Rally for the Saarland. Hitler speaks at the Deutsche Eck [in Koblenz on the Rhine River]:
The principles of the new Reich are clear in its foreign policy as well as domestically. We want peace, but there must be equal rights for all nations. We fight for our honor and freedom. At home we strive to improve the lot of the German worker and preserve the position of the German farmer. We are against unemployment! Against social divisions based on parties and classes! Only bigots and biased people can ignore and reject the immeasurable changes that have occurred. If alien elements criticize us and point out the problems our government has to face, we respond that such difficulties exist only because they are imposed on our people from the outside. Nothing will stop us in our efforts to remove and conquer these difficulties. Just as the German people have existed for thousands of years, so it will in the future. Any pessimism with regard to our economy is as unfounded as certain accusations with regard to religion. We believe in positive Christianity and defend religious and spiritual freedom. However, we will not tolerate any attempt to use religion as a pretext for political purposes.
The Saarland has always been a model for us. While inside Germany political parties divided the population into innumerable camps, the actions of the Saarlanders have been imbued by one thought only, namely, "rejoin the Reich." On January 14 they will regain their place in the German fatherland. [On January 14, 1935, the Saarlanders voted overwhelmingly to rejoin Germany after 15 years of French occupation and exploitation sanctioned by the Treaty of Versailles.] Everyone will be accepted with open arms, no matter what his party affiliation, as long as he is ready to help in the reconstruction of Germany. At the same time, we hope that beyond our borders more people are prepared to cooperate with the new Germany peacefully once we have rebuilt our country and take up greater challenges. It would be our greatest joy and satisfaction if, as bells are ringing out, we can not only welcome back many Germans into the Reich, but witness the arrival of a genuine peace.
In this way, and in the face of many press reports to the contrary, Hitler paints a clear picture for the Saarlanders of the Germany for or against which they will soon have to cast their vote.
August 29, 1934
Pressed together like sardines, we crowd the deck of a Swedish fishing vessel as it slowly takes us out into the misty world offshore. The storm envelops us with its drizzle and spray. We view the shoreline as if through a veil. Today the rocks seem softer and less jagged, the grass greener, the landscape more forlorn than in the sunshine of the day before. We reach Stensholm, a desolate, rocky island virtually unknown to anyone except those who know and care about Gorch Fock, Germany's poet of the sea. The island seems to swallow us as we hold a quiet ceremony and honor the contributions of the dead. United, we mourn on the tiny cemetery that is lovingly preserved by people in nearby Fjellbacka. Here, after the Battle of Jutland and in foreign soil, the poet and mariner Gorch Fock was laid to rest, not far from the sea that meant his life. Next to him are the gravesites of a few comrades and unknown British sailors, all joined together in death. Usually all is quiet here. The storm whistles between the rocks as if to accompany the eternal breaking of the waves upon the rocks.
August 31, 1934
The night is cold. Even oilskin clothing cannot entirely shelter us from the strong winds. But then one has to think good thoughts and cheer up, especially when things are getting a little rough and uncomfortable. Clouds chase one another across the sky; just above the horizon a few oscillating lights appear-fishermen, no doubt. Otherwise everything is dark. Immediately in front of the ship, illuminated by the riding light, the crests of the waves roll in and break up, turn into white foam, and surge along the hull. Lines and cables tense up and relax, depending on the movement of the ship. On our beam the sky lights up from distant lightning. The moon becomes visible for a few seconds, half veiled by the low clouds. Then it is gone and everything is dark again. From time to time it briefly reappears, leaving a bright spot on the bobbing water whose reflection rolls toward the ship like liquid silver. Gorch Fock used to hail the time between midnight and 4 n.m. as the "King's Watch"; we call it the graveyard watch.
September 9, 1934
Karlskrona. Swedish visitors came on board, some 2,500 in all. In the evening we gave a party for our hosts. There were tables and benches, as well as colorful decorations fashioned from signal flags. We received our visitors on the upper deck, matching every Swede with a German crew member. Given physical restraints and our general disposition, the meal was not opulent but still provided a fine opportunity to exchange ideas and experiences. Both sides enriched the occasion by singing songs representative of their respective countries. It became quite clear that we Germans did this with somewhat greater enthusiasm. We finally parted in the knowledge that we had forged links that went beyond superficial contacts.
With one of our visitors I kept up a correspondence for quite some time afterwards. It proves how important the work of the Navy is in showing the flag abroad and in helping the peoples of the world understand one another.
Epilogue:
The voyage on the Gorch Fock was our first true acquaintance with the sea. We got a feeling for the element that would eventually become home to us, an element whose characteristics and moods would become so familiar as to constitute a part of ourselves.
A voyage on a sailing vessel is the basis of all seafaring, for in its course you are forced to slug it out with the elements. After all, in a fight you get to know and appreciate an enemy the best. We did not have the reassurance of simply starting our engines if we got into trouble. We also experienced the romanticism of the sea as we had imagined it in our boyhood dreams. Anyone who has stood watch as a lookout on a clear July night knows what I mean. It, too, was the first time that we grew together as a Crew. Our basic attitude as a community of officers received its formative impulses on the Gorch Fock.
In Stralsund we lived together in squads and formed two companies. Now our midshipman cruise will tear the Crew apart into two halves. One half will embark on the cruiser Karlsruhe, which will take us to North and South America. Our comrades on the Emden call our itinerary the "salon and parquet" cruise, for their main destination is Africa, "to visit Negroes in the bush," as we label their endeavor with contempt.
MIDSHIPMAN ON THE KARLSRUHE
Diary:
August 27, 1934
We line up on the pier alongside the cruiser Karlsruhe and report to the officer on duty. This is an important day for us. As we later assemble on the quarter deck we wear our cadet uniforms for the first time, complete with "monkey jacket," shirt, tie, and sword knot (Portepeel. Our new uniform brings many new obligations, but we fulfill them gladly because this is, after all, our desired profession. There is the old Prussian saying: "Whoever dedicates himself to the Prussian flag retains nothing that is his own." My comrades think as I do, and it is not difficult to exercise tolerance. What I understand Prussian values to mean, the poet Stefan George has expressed in this poem:
Comment:
I have always loved poetry. In those days it was Stefan George who fascinated me. In him I discovered a new feeling for poetic
language, something both aristocratic and ascetic, to which I and many others felt strongly attracted. Many young people would show up when he read his works in public. Writers, philosophers, and the Stauffenberg brothers (the latter instrumental in carrying out the assassination plot against Hitler on July 20, 1944), among others, belonged to the circle around Stefan George. That he also spoke out against totalitarianism, I only realized later.
Our daily routine aboard, however, was far removed from any soaring flights of the soul. One day the petty officers held an inspection of our quarters. Count Puckler, a fellow cadet, had to open his locker. The petty officer saw a few books in it and grabbed one at random from the shelf: poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke. Question: "Are you telling me that you are reading poetry, Puckler, and on top of that poems by a woman?" No comment necessary.
Diary:
October 21, 1934
Telegram from Berlin: "I expect that the Karlsruhe will, in true devotion to her duties, represent the honor of Germany on her trip abroad. Bon voyage to the ship, its commanding officer and its crew, and a safe return. Adolf Hitler."
Central Atlantic, November 17, 1934
Sleeping in the warm, fresh air on the quarter deck is immeasurably more regenerating than sleeping in the stale air below. You even need less sleep to feel relaxed. When you wake up at night you see the sky above filled with twinkling stars; in the morning you can watch the pelicans go fishing.
