Читать книгу The Dark Invader - Captain Franz von Rintelen - Страница 4

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It is the afternoon of August the 4th, 1914. We junior officers of the Admiralty Staff sit at our desks and wait and wait. War has been declared, and every now and then the troops, who are being dispatched to the Western and the Eastern Front, march past our windows. The music of a band bursts into our quiet rooms, we tear open the windows for a moment, and wave to the comrades whom the War is sweeping into action.

It is the afternoon of August the 4th, 1914. We sit in our offices at the Admiralty, and our nerves can hardly stand the strain of waiting any longer. From time to time a rumour runs through the building. Our Chiefs are said to have indicated to the Government once more that, according to information received from our Naval Attaché in London and from our secret agents, England will certainly not remain neutral. We, the officers of the Admiralty Staff, are convinced that soon the English warships will turn their bows towards the south. At night, as we sit anxiously in our rooms and talk in hushed voices, we wait for something to happen, for some news that will turn our presentiment into fact. The war with France and Russia is a war to be conducted by the Army, a military war, in which important tasks presumably will not fall to the Navy. But if England...! We wait and wait.

It is the afternoon of August the 4th, 1914. The door of my room opens, and an order comes from my Chief telling me to go immediately to the Foreign Office to receive an important piece of news. The order directs me to bring this news with the greatest expedition to the Admiralty in the Königin Augusta-Strasse.

As my instructions are handed to me I rise from my chair. A few more officers happen to be in the room, and they hold their breath as I read out the order.

"Every minute counts"—so the instructions end.

We all have the feeling that something is about to happen that touches us closely. We suppress our agitation before the orderly, but while I quickly get ready to leave, one of my comrades takes up the telephone-receiver to inform Police Headquarters that in a few minutes a service car of the Admiralty will be racing through the Bendlerstrasse, the Tiergartenstrasse, and the Voss-Strasse, and that the road has to be kept clear for it.

The car races away. I am soon standing on the steps of the Foreign Office. An attendant throws open the door, and I pass through the hall, to find myself suddenly in a large room.

On a red plush sofa sit two gentlemen—Sir Edward Goschen, the Ambassador of His Britannic Majesty, and Mr. James W. Gerard, the Ambassador of the United States. Sir Edward looks depressed and, half-turned towards Gerard, is talking in a low voice.

It is the afternoon of August the 4th, 1914, and as I stand in the room, with this scene before me, I at once realise its meaning. I now know the nature of the news that I have to take back as quickly as possible to the Admiralty. I know that Sir Edward Goschen has just handed over England's declaration of war, and that the American Ambassador, Mr. Gerard, has come to the Foreign Office with him to explain that he will take over the representation of British interests in Germany.

For a moment my knees tremble as the whole significance in world-history of this incident opens up before me. Then I remember that I am a naval officer, and enthusiasm rises high in me. I see the Fleet setting out in a few minutes, with the heavy smoke-streamers of the German torpedo-boat flotillas hanging in the evening sky over the North Sea.

But suddenly I sober down. I notice the look of indifference on the face of Gerard, sitting on the sofa in a brown lounge suit, not, like Goschen, in top-hat and frock-coat. Goschen sits in a correct attitude and is visibly much distressed, but Gerard is leaning over, half-turned towards him, resting against the sofa cushions. He has one leg crossed over the other, and lounges there, nonchalant and comfortable, turning his straw-hat on the handle of his walking-stick with his fingers. With disconcerting coolness, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he quietly murmurs: "Yes, perhaps the only peaceful country in the world will soon be Mexico."

Mexico! A country which was then distracted by civil war!

Herr von Jagow, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, enters the room and gives me a sealed envelope. I know what it contains. I bow, first to him, and then to the two Ambassadors, and hardly know how I get down the steps. My car starts, and rushes through the Voss-Strasse, the Tiergartenstrasse, and the Bendlerstrasse, to the Admiralty. At the street corners, at the busy crossing-places, stand policemen, who, the moment our car comes into view, raise their hands high and stop the traffic so that we may not be held up.

Before the Admiralty building the driver jams on the brakes, so that the car stops with a jerk. I run up the steps. Two senior staff officers are standing at the door of the Chief, and make a dash at me. Captain von Bülow, head of the Central Department, tears open the envelope.

He concentrates on the letter for a moment, then turns half left and calls to the Commandant of the Nauen Wireless Station, standing behind him:

"Commandant! Get Nauen going!"

The Commandant runs to his room, and snatches up the receiver of the telephone which communicates direct with Nauen.

Two seconds later the High Seas Fleet knows, and in another second all the torpedo-boat flotillas: "War with England!"

The stations in the Baltic and the North Sea, the cruisers in the Atlantic and our squadrons are warned within a few minutes.

We had all expected that after the British declaration of war the High Seas Fleet would immediately put to sea. We had thought that the Admiralty would become a centre where the threads of great naval movements would be gathered together; we had thought that the Navy too would intervene in the fight for Germany's existence. But what we so confidently expected did not happen: the High Seas Fleet remained where it was, and, instead of taking part in the fighting, the Admiralty Staff became involved in passionate political conflicts. Just when we expected that the Naval Command would give the order to attack we were summoned to a conference of officers. We were informed:

"The Imperial Chancellor's view may be summarised as follows: We must not provoke England! We are assured from authoritative British quarters that England is only taking part in the War for appearances, and in fulfilment of purely military agreements of which the Foreign Office has been kept in ignorance. Energetic action on the part of the German Fleet would inevitably bring about a change of feeling in England!"

That was the view of the Chancellor. It was not, however, the view of the Admiralty; and it was certainly nothing new that differences should arise between the politicians and the admirals on the question of the interpretation of Britain's intentions prior to and at the outbreak of the War.

Even shortly before the War there yawned an abyss between the opinions of the two parties as to whether England would participate or not. These opinions were very sharply divided in the first days of August, when hostilities were already in full swing on the Continent, but England was still maintaining her attitude of reserve.

Whenever a telegram came from Lichnowsky, the Ambassador at the Court of St. James, to say that England thought neither of breaking with her tradition of not mixing in continental quarrels, nor of taking up arms against Germany, regularly and simultaneously there came a telegram from the Naval Attaché in London, Captain von Müller, to the effect that England, to all appearances, was on the verge of opening hostilities at sea. This state of things at last became grotesque. Dispatches, representing the two opposing standpoints, were coming in every day, until at last war broke out and England proclaimed that Germany was her enemy.

It was on the morning of August the 4th, the day when England was to declare war on Germany through her Ambassador, Sir Edward Goschen, that a telegram arrived from Captain von Müller, which ran as follows:

"Stand firm by the conviction, in spite of the Ambassador's different opinion, that trouble is brewing for us here."

On the morning of August the 5th, twelve hours after the formal delivery of the declaration of war, when nobody expected any further telegrams from the German Embassy in London, there arrived a wire from Prince Lichnowsky. It ran:

"The old gentleman [Asquith] has just declared to me, with tears in his eyes, that a war between the two peoples, who are related by blood, is impossible."

The Kaiser annotated it in his characteristic large handwriting. In the margin of the Ambassador's message he wrote:

"What an awakening the man will have from his diplomatic dreams!"

So we were now no longer surprised at the view taken by the Imperial Chancellor. It so happened that a few hours later I had to see Admiral von Tirpitz. Owing to family friendship he had occasionally made me the recipient of his confidences. I found him in a mood of utter despair. He sat in his chair, looking years older, and told me repeatedly that he had not the slightest desire to go with the "confounded General Head-quarters" to Coblenz. He feared that there he would be checkmated; and as he said all this, as though to himself, I suddenly perceived an abyss before me. At this tremendous hour, at a time when everything had to be subordinated to the one purpose of saving the Fatherland, which was threatened with enemies on every side, the situation was dominated by intrigues, malice, and motives of a petty and personal kind. When Tirpitz should have taken over the command of the High Seas Fleet and concentrated its units in the North Sea against England, the Chief of the Naval Cabinet, Admiral von Müller, and some of his immediate entourage, were making efforts to frustrate him. The Chancellor had represented to the Kaiser that Tirpitz was too old to discharge an important war-time function.

It goes without saying that in the war which had now broken out we younger officers were not inclined to place political above purely military considerations. That was all less to be expected since we had for years been taught that our numerical inferiority to England at sea was only to be compensated by the success of a quick attack which should take the enemy by surprise. The tactics now employed against England, of merely waiting to deal with whatever move the enemy made, were not at all to our liking. So we had, however, to turn our longing for action into some channel, and we put all our energies into furthering the activities of our cruisers abroad.

Our ships of the Mediterranean Squadron, the battle-cruiser Goeben and the light cruiser Breslau, had attracted unwelcome attention off the coast of Algeria Rod had naturally drawn down strong English and French fighting forces upon themselves. They shook off the pursuing ships by a bold stroke: they ran into Messina, where they applied for coal from the Italian Navy.

Admiral Souchon, the Commander of the German Squadron, at once saw the Commander of the Diffesa Marittima at Messina, to urge upon him the absolute necessity that Germany's Ally should not leave her in the lurch. In view, however, of the fact that a Royal Decree had just been issued forbidding coal to leave Italy, he could only telegraph to the Admiralty in Rome for instructions. It so happened that the Minister of Marine in Rome was Admiral Mille, who during the recent Italo-Turkish War had been brusquely prevented from taking his squadron into the Dardanelles by a stem protest from Whitehall. Admiral Souchon's need proved Millo's opportunity; and, giving loyalty to Italy's Ally as his motive, Admiral Millo at once ordered Admiral Souchon's squadron to be supplied with "best quality Cardiff coal" in the Royal Dockyards.

Having thus succeeded in replenishing their bunkers, the Goeben and Breslau put out from Messina under cover of darkness and made for the Eastern Mediterranean.

Meanwhile, a poor, unfortunate Italian steamer, about to enter the Adriatic, was taken by the lynx-eyed British for a German warship and furiously bombarded, though luckily without success.

The Nauen Wireless Station permitted us in Berlin to listen, to the exchange of courtesies between the British and French Squadron Commanders— cursing over the German Squadron having made its "get-away."

Admiral Souchon brought his two ships, twenty-four hours ahead of their pursuers, into the Dardanelles. As the Dardanelles, however, since the Berlin Congress of 1878, had been neutralised, and the passage of the Straits was barred to warships of all nations, Turkey was threatened with international complications and with the protests of Germany's enemies, if she allowed the two ships to remain where they were. All these difficulties, however, had been foreseen by Admiral Souchon, who had already wirelessed a pressing request to the German Ambassador in Constantinople to prevent any such complications. The Ambassador, Herr von Wangenheim, had a brilliant idea. When the two ships reached Constantinople they were transferred immediately to Turkish ownership. The Admiral put on a Turkish fez instead of his naval cap, and fired a salute in honour of his new Sovereign. The British Ambassador in Constantinople raised a furious protest, but the ships remained Turkish. They were in the Imperial Ottoman service, which meant that, financially at any rate, they would very soon be on the rocks.

On Saturday evening, the 15th of August, some days after hearing the welcome news of their arrival, I was descending the staircase in the Admiralty building at Berlin, when I met my departmental Chief, who took me into his room and showed me a dispatch from Admiral Souchon, which had just been received. It ran as follows:

"Turkish tradesmen and contractors refuse German paper money. Immediate dispatch five million marks in minted gold absolutely necessary."

My departmental Chief looked at me and said:

"We can't leave Admiral Souchon in the lurch! But where are we going to get the gold? Who's got gold? No more being issued. But something must be done, and pretty quickly."

"The regulation should not, of course, apply to cases of this sort," I said. "I'll try my luck with the Reichsbank."

"Good!" he replied. "Do what you like, but see to it that Admiral Souchon gets his gold."

As I stood in the street and looked round for a taxi, a private car stopped in front of me. The wife of the Spanish Ambassador beckoned to me.

"Good evening, Captain!' called the Marquesa. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"

"To the Reichsbank!"

In front of the Reichsbank, on the Hausvogteiplatz, Landwehr reservists in shakos had taken the place of the Infantry of the Guard in their spiked helmets. They were marching up and down according to regulations and presented arms to us. The gateway to the Nibelungs' Hoard was, however, locked and barred, and Alberich, its keeper, disconcerted by the visit at so late an hour of a representative of the armed forces, declared simply that it was after business hours. Fortunately, however, Herr von Glasenapp, the Vice-President, lived in the building. The porter took me to him, and His Excellency at once realised that he must help and was prepared to hand over the required gold.

The strong room, however, was shut, and could only be opened by putting two keys in the lock together—two keys which were in different hands. Geheimrat von Lumm had one of them, and the Chief of the Trésor the other. It appeared that Geheimrat von Lumm lived on the Kaiserdamm and the Chief of the Trésor in the Schönhauser Allee, at the other end of Berlin.

A Reichsbank attendant was immediately put into a taxi and given strict orders to bring the latter, dead or alive, with his key to the Reichsbank, and as quickly as possible. I myself got into another taxi and drove to the Kaiserdamm, to the house of Herr von Lumm. At my first ring nobody answered. I rang again in desperation, and at last an old housekeeper came shuffling to the door and said:

"Yes, yes, but it's so late! The Herr Geheimrat? The Herr Geheimrat is out, of course."

"Where has he gone?"

"Oh, he never tells me. But I expect he's taking his evening drink now."

Undeterred by the housekeeper's ignorance, I seized upon a ludicrous idea. I decided, quite simply, to put the police on the trail of the Herr because, as I said to myself, if the police could manage to find a man who had stolen silver spoons, then they would certainly know how to lay hands on so well-known a person as Herr Lumm.

So I rushed back to Police Headquarters.

"Where is the office of the C.I.D.?"

The Commissioner on duty was quite excited by such a late visit from a naval officer.

"Whom are we to arrest, Captain?"

"Geheimrat von Lumm of the Reichsbank."

"Whom did you say, Captain? Geheimrat von Lumm of the Reichsbank?"

"It's not quite as bad as you think, my dear Commissioner, but Herr Lumm, who is very probably at this moment in some wine-restaurant in Central Berlin, must be found before midnight, whatever happens, and taken to the Reichsbank."

"Very well," said the Commissioner; "I'll send a few C.I.D. men out immediately."

There was no object in waiting at Police Headquarters till Herr Lumm was found; so I drove back to the Admiralty and awaited events. At ten o'clock at night I was rung up by the Commissioner on duty.

"The Herr von Lucian has just been found at Kempinski's and is being delivered at the Reichsbank."

Now we could get to work. When I appeared at the Railways Department of the Great General Staff on the Moltkestrasse and asked for a special train to Constantinople, they showed blank amazement at my naive ideas of railway management in war-time, but I harangued them for all I was worth, and finally succeeded in convincing them that by the following morning we must have a train to transport our millions in gold to Constantinople. I could not get the through train to Constantinople that I wanted, but they told me that the train could go as far as Bodenbach on the Austrian frontier.

"Farther than Bodenbach we cannot guarantee, and the Austrians will have to arrange for the rest of the journey."

The Austrian Embassy was opposite the General Staff building, and the Counsellor, Count Hoyos, promised that the War Office in Vienna would provide a train from Bodenbach through the Balkans to Constantinople.

"I must, however, point out," added Count Hoyos, "that there are unlimited possibilities of trouble in connection with the transport of gold right through the Balkans."

I had no time to think of all these possibilities; I had to return to the Admiralty. The Reichsbank explained over the telephone that all was going well; the officials were already assembled to count the gold, and the boxes would be packed in an hour's time.

The young lady at the Admiralty telephone exchange then proceeded to tumble a number of important gentlemen of the postal service out of their beds, and was able to announce half an hour later that six big postal vans would arrive at eight o'clock next morning in front of the Reichsbank.

From now on the telephones worked incessantly. Telephone message from the Reichsbank:

"The Admiralty must provide an escort for the gold through the streets of Berlin!"

Telephone message from Police Headquarters:

"Our bicycle patrols will be before the Reichsbank at half-past seven."

Telephone message from the Railways Division of the General Staff:

"The train for Bodenbach will be waiting in the Anhalter Bahnhof at nine o'clock."

Telephone message to the Deutsche Bank:

"The Admiralty would be obliged for the loan of an official familiar with the conditions in the Balkans and in Turkey."

Telephone messages to the Turkish and Rumanian Legations for visas.

Telephone messages that the Bulgarian Minister, who also had to give a visa, could not be found.

A call for help to the police!

"Herr Commissioner! You've done so splendidly in finding Geheimrat von Lumm, will you be good enough now to find the Bulgarian Minister?"

The police found the Bulgarian Minister as well. He was much surprised when he suddenly found detectives standing before him, being at the time in pyjamas. The official, who had been impressed with the necessity of bringing the Minister to the Legation as quickly as possible, helped him into a dressing-gown, put him into a taxi, and took him home.

Having on previous occasions asked Dr. Helfferich the Director of the Deutsche Bank, for his advice about monetary matters of a technical nature, I now rang him up too. This transport of gold interested him keenly, and he turned up early in the morning at the Admiralty to drive with me to the Reichsbank. As we drew up we were filled with alarm. The bank premises were surrounded with most suspicious-looking persons. Slowly it dawned upon us that they were detectives in disguise doing their job.

The boxes were lifted into the vans, and the column moved off. We drove so slowly in front, that Helfferich remarked:

"We look just like a funeral procession."

The same afternoon at four o'clock I was rung up from Bodenbach by Dr. Weigelt of the Deutsche Bank who had been lent to me by Helfferich to take charge of the transport.

He explained that the train promised by the Austrians to make the connection was not there, and that, as it was Sunday, he was unable to dig out any officials of the Austrian military administration, but that a solution had been found. The Austrian Automobile Corps had declared its readiness to take the boxes to Vienna.

As there was nothing else to be done, I told Dr. Weigelt that I agreed to this course, and that I should be able to arrange for a train from Vienna onwards.

On Monday, the 17th of August, a gentleman from the Austrian Embassy appeared at the Admiralty in a state of great excitement. He waved a telegram from Vienna in his hand, reading as follows:

"We have just succeeded in making an arrest in Vienna which has apparently frustrated enemy plans. A number of motor-cars have reached Vienna, and the unusual conduct of their occupants awakened the suspicions of the police. No time was lost, and the occupants of the cars were arrested; in the cars were large boxes, one of which was opened. It was filled to the top with gold, which is apparently to-tended for Serbian propaganda in Austrian territory. The astonishing thing is that the gold is in German currency. On examination, the arrested men gave contradictory explanations, so that it is quite evident that it is an affair of Serbian agents, who, strange to say, are provided with German passports. They are all held in prison for inquiry and await sentence "

When I had read the telegram, the gentleman from the Austrian Embassy was astounded to see me start foaming at the mouth. Then I began to laugh, and rushed to the telephone.

In the afternoon the Austrian Embassy telephoned:

"Your consignment of gold has been dispatched by special express train to Budapest. With regard to the mistaken arrest of your men in charge, we ask a thousand pardons for the misunderstanding that has arisen."

By Saturday, August the 22nd, a telegram from Constantinople lay on my table:

"Gold consignment just arrived safely. Will be handed over to Mediterranean Squadron to-day."

In the meantime Admiral Souchon's appeal for help had gradually worked its way through official channels. By this path it eventually reached the appropriate department in the course of the week. On Thursday, August the 10th, Corvette-Captain Oldekop stepped into my office.

"I say—we have just received a wire from Admiral Souchon. He seems to want a few millions in gold. Can one do that sort of thing? Who could put it through?"

"It was sent off from the Anhalter Bahnhof last Sunday morning, sir, and we have just been informed that it has already crossed the Rumanian-Bulgarian frontier."

"Oh, really? Thanks most awfully!"

The consignment of gold had safely reached Constantinople and the enemy's hunt for Admiral Souchon's squadron had ended unsuccessfully.

When war broke out, German cruisers were scattered all over the world, and the news of mobilisation reached them in the most unlikely places. The most important unit, apart from the Mediterranean Squadron, was the Cruiser Squadron in the Far East, consisting of the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau, accompanied by the four light cruisers Leipzig, Dresden, Nurnberg, and Emden. Even the Admiralty in Berlin was uncertain where Count Spee was with his squadron at the outbreak of war. He had last been heard of in Tsingtao.

Naturally Count Spee was not unaware of the storm brewing over Europe while he cruised in distant seas. His wireless officers intercepted the messages of cruisers which were soon to become hostile, and Admiral Spee was quite conscious of the fact that the movements of his squadron were being followed with particular interest by the Admiralties in London, Paris, and St. Petersburg. When hostilities began, he succeeded for a long time in concealing his aims and intentions, and in harassing the Allies and their Admiralties with the weapon they had most to fear—uncertainty!

The German Admiralty, whose duty it was to work out the general lines of active naval operations, and to transmit instructions to the squadron and individual commanders, was compelled by the suddenness of the conflict and the precipitate course of events to give carte blanche to all cruisers in foreign waters, wherever they might be. They were left to make their own plans, since they were completely isolated from headquarters. In some cases it was impossible even to instruct the cruisers to act independently, as some of those warships, sailing alone, had been veiling their movements for some days.

Count Spee still possessed one line of communication with Berlin —through the Naval Attaché in Tokio, Captain von Knorr. Some days before the outbreak of war, when hostilities appeared to be imminent, the latter cabled that it was essential to send two million yen to Admiral Spee immediately, so that his movements should not be restricted. This money had to be sent to Tokio by the quickest possible route, for if it did not arrive soon the squadron would have to allow itself to be interned, as it could only pay its way in foreign harbours in a wartime with cash. The telegram which Captain von Knorr sent to Berlin arrived by the usual route, via New York and London. I was ordered, on August the 2nd, to arrange that Count Spee should receive his money as soon as possible, and I cabled to New York giving instructions that a German bank in that city should wire two million yen to Captain von Knorr in Tokio.

It would be more correct to say: "I tried to give instructions," for my telegram was returned to the Admiralty from the telegraph office in Berlin. It could not be dispatched, for the cable station at Emden reported a "breakdown." Inquiries had been made in London whether there was a breakdown on that side too, but London, for some unknown reason, had not yet replied.

At first there was no explanation of the breakdown. The German cable to New York ran from Emden to America along the bottom of the ocean, and it had never yet failed. The apparatus in Emden showed, however, that there was something wrong with the line, for telegram after telegram had been sent to America, but in no case had the official signal from the other end been received. The telegraph authorities in Emden assumed that they would soon hear from New York again, so we had to wait; but after forty-eight hours of waiting, with the cable still not functioning, we did not know what to do, since as yet there was no wireless communication between the two countries. The American station in Sayville, near New York, was not yet completed, and it was only in midwinter, 1914, that we were able to send wireless messages from Berlin to America.

I thought out a subtle way that might still be available, namely, to try to get into communication with the Deutsch-Asiatische Bank, which had branches in the most important ports of the Far East. Since the cable no longer functioned, we could not reach this bank by wire either. What we did was this: we paid in the required sum of money at a Danish bank, which instructed its branch in Tokio, by means of a carefully composed and apparently quite harmless business telegram, to provide itself with the necessary funds and place them at the disposal of the Deutsch-Asiatische Bank in Tokio. In a further telegram, which we likewise set up very carefully, we directed the Deutsch-Asiatische Bank to pay the money to our Naval Attaché in Tokio. Both the telegrams went first of all to St. Petersburg, though Russia was already at war with Germany. The unsuspecting officials in St. Petersburg transmitted the telegrams to Vladivostok, whence they reached Tokio, and so Admiral Spee received his two million yen.

Meanwhile, however, it was essential to send further consignments of money abroad, and the German cable to America was still not working. Suddenly we received a report from London which enlightened us as to why we could no longer wire to America. This report, which came to us from a confidential quarter in the British capital, contained astounding information. During the first days of August an unpretentious flotilla of fishing-boats had sailed from the Thames in the direction of Emden-Borkum and the Dutch islands in the vicinity. They were manned chiefly by experts from the department of cables and telegraphs. Under the cover of night and fog this flotilla took up the German deep-sea cables, and joined them up with their own lines in London. Instead of going to New York the telegrams we sent from Emden went to London. This was the "breakdown" that Emden had reported!

After the successful dispatch of the two million yen to Count Spee, it was my duty to provide and transmit the money required by our other cruisers in foreign waters. At first I met with grotesque difficulties in Berlin, owing to the fact that the authorities obstinately insisted on everything being done in the regulation way. The official procedure was as follows: A formal request had to be made to the Treasury, this request itself also having to go through "official channels"; the Treasury had to approve the request according to its own system of minuting and to issue instructions, through "official channels," to the department involved, and this department had then to make the requisite sum available at the Reichsbank, which again had to be officially instructed. The money could then be drawn by one of the big banks and the payment transferred to the payee.

No-one knew exactly where our cruisers were, and since it was impossible to foresee whereabouts in the world they might suddenly appear and demand money, I had to have money available as soon as possible at every single large port in every neutral country. Both official and unofficial quarters had, it is strange to say, to be "convinced" first of all that Germany was at war and that "official channels" must be short-circuited.

At last I managed with great trouble to deposit stocks of foreign currency for our cruisers throughout the whole world, from New York to New Orleans, from Venezuela to Uruguay, from Tierra del Fuego to Seattle, along the whole west coast of South, Central, and North America. I transmitted very large sums to confidential agents in these ports, who had been appointed in peace-time. In the middle of it a very inconvenient incident occurred. A Berlin bank was instructed by us to send half a million dollars to our agent in New York for the purpose of chartering a collier. The honest bank official who had to carry out the instruction innocently took up his pen and, as though we were still at peace, wrote in the letter which was sent to New York:

"On the instruction and for the account of the Imperial German Navy we transmit to you herewith five hundred thousand dollars."

When I received a copy of this document next day I nearly fainted. Our agent in New York was, of course, compromised.

The next event to rejoice our hearts was the fall of Antwerp, where, for the first time in war, the Zeppelins had given a good account of themselves. In consequence, there arose a strong movement in favour of using them for raids over enemy territory.

One morning I received a welcome visit from my old friend, Kapitän-Leutnant Ostermann, who had lived for many years in London and had succeeded in slipping through the nets which the British Naval Intelligence Department had spread the moment war was declared. Both he and I knew every hole and corner of that great city, and in consequence we were given the task of surveying such centres as London and Liverpool, with a view to drafting plans, based on photographic enlargements, for effective raids by Zeppelins.

Being, like everyone else at that time, totally unfamiliar with the military possibilities of this new weapon, we laboured under the delusion that bombs could be dropped from the air with practically the same accuracy as shells could be fired from howitzers! Large-scale maps were printed for us in the Admiralty's own presses, and our immediate business was to mark on them with large red circles the so-called "vulnerable spots." To our astonishment, however, we learned at a conference held in the presence of Captain Strasser, the commander of the Zeppelins, that no guarantee whatsoever could be given as to where projectiles launched from airships might land.

Bluntly we were told that the bombs, if dropped, could only be dropped haphazard. Ostermann and I thereupon sent in a report stating that, in our firm opinion, the change in England's supposed temper which such a policy would bring about, would far outweigh any success of purely military value.

Neither Ostermann nor myself was summoned to any further conferences on this subject. Yet, when a final consent to this questionable policy had been wrung from the Kaiser, he accompanied his Order with an autograph Minute to the effect that, in all circumstances, Buckingham Palace must be spared. Reading this, and remembering Captain Strasser's views on accuracy in bombing, I realized what a responsibility had been laid on the Zeppelin commanders.

About this period an unenviable task was laid upon all the officers of the various Headquarter Staffs in Berlin. They were instructed to counteract, wherever they could and in every possible way, the impressions that were being produced by the first great setback on the Western Front, the Battle of the Marne. To us in the Admiralty, out of touch with those responsible for the conduct of the war on land, it was far from clear that this serious reverse was, in fact, the turning point of the whole War. Yet, from neutral countries, despite the closely watched frontiers, kept coming the most disquieting reports, whose evil effects it became our duty to minimise as far as we were able.

Chance lightened our labours. The tremendous victory of Tannenberg, the triumph of Hindenburg, Ludendorff and Hoffmann, came as if in answer to our prayers; and in the jubilation which it called forth, the disaster on the Marne lost its depressing grip upon all but the handful of those "in the know." Just as the Allied peoples knew neither the significance, nor perhaps even the name, of Tannenberg until victory was assured, so the meaning of the Marne was kept hidden from the masses in Germany until long after all was lost.

From Berlin we followed the movements of our cruisers, especially of Admiral Spee, with the greatest suspense. Our hearts beat quickly when he destroyed a British squadron off Coronel We did not know whither he would turn after this battle. We received the news that he had put into harbour at Valparaiso and assumed that he would stay there for some time, to chase English merchantmen along the South American coast, but we were amazed to hear that he had left Valparaiso again at full speed.

The unexpected news of the battle of the Falkland Islands threw us into deep depression. We heard that Count Spee's squadron had been destroyed and that his proud ships lay at the bottom of the ocean. They had run straight into a superior British squadron. Deeply moved and saddened, we sat in our rooms and wondered what on earth could have induced Count Spee to steam round Cape Horn towards the Falkland Islands, but we could find no explanation. We could not imagine why such a prudent and cautious admiral should have attempted to attack the Falkland Islands when he must almost certainly have known that this might attract superior enemy forces. It was a mystery to us!

Not so very long afterwards I was unlucky enough to have dealings with the man "behind it."

In the midst of this depression we were involved in other anxieties. A Naval Corps was organised for Service in Flanders, and we were faced with a situation, which we found at first difficult to believe, that arms were not available in sufficient quantity for the new troops. We had already learned, after the first weeks of the War, that every branch of the Army was beginning to lack the most essential munitions.

When the Naval Corps was in being, and somehow had to be supplied with arms, the situation suddenly came home to us. We received orders to provide the Corps with machine-guns, and we were told that it did not matter how we got them or where we got them from—that we had to procure them even if we had to fetch them from the moon. A few hours' telephoning to the remotest corners of Germany convinced us that there was no possible way of obtaining machine-guns at home. We commissioned confidential agents in the neutral countries to find out where machine-guns could be bought, and soon received the news that there were three hundred weapons of the most modern construction in a shed in Copenhagen, but that they had already been sold to Russia and were to be shipped in the next few days.

We got busy on the telephone. We spoke to Copenhagen, and a little later the German Minister in that city called upon M. Scavenius, the Danish Foreign Minister, pointed out that Denmark was a neutral Power, and protested against the shipping of the machine-guns. The protest was successful, and the firm which had manufactured the weapons was forbidden to export them. As the Russians had long since paid for them, the Danish firm was not much affected. The machine-guns remained in their warehouse in the port of Copenhagen, and repeated attempts to load them secretly on a Russian steamer were frustrated by our own agents.

The German and Austrian Legations had posted "guards" round the shed, and every time an attempt was made to get the precious guns on to a ship, one of the Ministers addressed a flaming protest to the Danish Foreign Office.

We now made an attempt to transfer the weapons to our own possession. We came to an agreement with the firm which had already sold them to the Russians but had no objection to selling them again to us. When, however, we prepared to load them on to a German ship the Russian and French Legations came into action, and we in turn were prohibited from taking the guns on board.

This little game went on for some time. The agents of the Allies kept an eye on our people, and our agents kept an eye on them.

While we were unable to obtain arms and munitions on a large scale from any neutral country, the Allies could buy from the whole world; so we had to direct all our thoughts to procuring by stealth the small quantities which were still available in Europe. We were therefore determined that these three hundred machine-guns must belong to us, and I was ordered to "fetch them."

I began my scheme, which I had carefully worked out, by providing myself with a British passport. We had a large quantity of these, taken from Englishmen who at the outbreak of war had decided, on their own authority, to transform themselves into Americans and try in that way to pass the German frontiers. I put one of these passports in my pocket, stuck a number of English hotel labels on my suit-case, prepared a handsome packet of English business correspondence, and started on the journey. My name was Mr. William Johnson, I came from London, and was a typical English business man. A few fellow-travellers noticed, though, that I had no difficulty in passing the German guards at the frontier in Warnemünde...

Upon reaching Copenhagen I took a room at the Hôtel d'Angleterre. This hotel was the headquarters in Denmark of all the agents of the Allies, and the lobby swarmed with them. I had not come to Copenhagen alone, but was accompanied by a man who knew the capital well, having carried on a business there for some years before the War. He had the advantage of me in speaking Danish, and his job was to assist me with his advice and active co-operation. We sat peacefully in the bar of the hotel or drank coffee in the restaurant, but every once in a while someone came sniffing round us.

After a couple of days, however, we succeeded in becoming rather friendly with some Russian agents, and one evening I startled these gentlemen by telling them that I was a British agent, was furnished with plenty of funds, and that I had instructions to aid them in conveying the machine-guns to the Russian Army. The agents thought that this was awfully decent of me. But a few days later a Russian vessel steamed into the harbour. It had originally been a Swedish boat, but we had purchased it and disguised it skilfully as Russian. On its arrival I summoned the Russian agents. I told them that the German and Austrian agents were bribed by me with large sums, that a Russian boat lay in the harbour under orders to receive the machine-guns, and that the shipment was to take place on January 27th. I informed them that this day had been chosen because it was the Kaiser's birthday, when the German agents would consider it a matter of honour to get completely drunk. Our agents, of course, had been told to stay away on that day, as the plan was that the Russians should help to transfer the machine-guns to the alleged Russian ship. This scheme had the advantage that the Russians were paying for weapons which we intended for use on the Western Front.

Everything was working smoothly, and merely for the final arrangements my companion and I had a meeting with the Russian agents in my room at the hotel. The Russians had already wired to their War Office that the machine-guns were at last about to be shipped to Russia, and we sat and drank coffee varied with numerous liqueurs. The waiter listened to everything we said, but that did not matter, since he was a French agent, and our conversation could only meet with his approval.

When the Russians had had rather a lot to drink—we had to keep up with them, of course—something dreadful happened. My friend the merchant, who had came with me to Copenhagen, and who was a lance-corporal in the Prussian Reserve, must have had a little too much to drink and so lost his presence of mind. He suddenly made to me—to Mr. William Johnson— a respectful bow, clicked his heels together, and said in the purest German:

"Darf ich Herrn Kapitänleutnant eine Zigarre anbieten?"

The Russian agents were not so drunk that they did not immediately realise what a trap they had fallen into. They started up from their chairs but I did not enter into tedious explanations. I found some sort of apology, let the agents say and think what they liked, and returned to Berlin.

The scheme so carefully thought out had come to grief, but we found it too good to drop altogether, so shortly afterwards I was ordered back to Denmark. I avoided this time the Hôtel d'Angleterre, lodged in a remote corner of Copenhagen, and approached the French agents, who fell into the trap originally laid for the Russians. One day, when the German agents did not turn up because they had apparently been bribed by me, the Frenchmen put the machine-guns on the "Russian" steamer, which, however, still belonged to us. When it reached its destination the platoon of marines, which had remained hidden on board throughout the voyage, felt disappointed. The vessel might easily have been challenged by a British destroyer or submarine then in the Baltic, and a boarding-party might have expressed doubts concerning her nationality and her precious cargo. It would then have been the duty of the platoon of marines to disperse these doubts.

I returned to my daily routine at the Admiralty Stall. There was nothing exciting, no work to lift me out of the rut of my duties, and I came to realise more clearly with what embittered tenacity a war was being waged far away from the field of battle, a struggle between the Naval War Staff and General Headquarters.

On the side of the Naval War Staff Tirpitz fought, with a doggedness which can hardly be described, for the employment of submarines for the inauguration of intensified U-boat warfare. On the other side, the Chancellor, Herr von Bethmann Hollweg, was ranged with General Headquarters in opposition to this plan. Bethmann Hollweg had the ear of the Kaiser, which gave him the opportunity, of which he made full use, of preventing the Naval War Staff from having its way. Bethmann Hollweg took the standpoint that the "confounded Navy," as he called it, was out to ruin his policy towards England.

We in the Service were often told at the time that the Chancellor was firmly convinced that England's share in the War was only to be a "skirmish," which diplomatic cleverness would soon bring to a "nice, peaceful" end. He fought desperately, therefore, against the plan of Grand-Admiral von Tirpitz for the building of submarines and still more submarines, and offered a passive resistance which was not easily overcome. When, however, Great Britain began, by word and deed, to show herself increasingly hostile; when the scale and the scope of Kitchener's plans for mobilisation became known to the Central Powers, and the London Treaty, binding the Allied Powers to conclude no separate peace with an enemy government, was signed—then the most optimistic of diplomats could no longer ignore the reality of England's participation in the War, nor doubt that England "meant to see this thing through." Borne down by the march of events, Bethmann threw in his hand and exclaimed:

"Nun ist meine ganze England-Politik zusammengebrochen!" [Footnote: "There goes my whole English policy!"]

At this time I received orders to go from Berlin to Wilhelmshaven and communicate to the High Seas Fleet the arrangements for the active carrying out of the U-boat campaign. At the same time, incidentally, was issued the famous order to the Battle Fleet to operate with increasing activity in the North Sea, but to avoid, as far as possible, contact with the enemy!

No-one was aware that in a few days submarine warfare was to begin in an extreme form. The German public had not the slightest suspicion of what was afoot, and confidential warnings had only been given, in the greatest secrecy, to the official representatives of certain neutral countries.

At noon one day the Admiralty was startled by a piece of news which exploded like a bomb. It was reported that the B. Z. am Mittag (Berlin Mid-day Journal) had printed on its front page in large type an announcement of the impending submarine campaign. How did it happen, we asked? How did this decision, which had been "kept" a strict secret, reach the B. Z. am Mittag? It had certainly not been communicated to the Press, and so inquiries were made as to how the information had found its way to that newspaper, and they resulted in the discovery of the following astonishing facts:

Grand-Admiral von Tirpitz had been asked for an interview by the representative of the American Hearst Press in Berlin, Mr. Wigan. He had had a long conversation with this journalist, and had revealed to him the fact, hitherto guarded with such rigorous secrecy, that the German Government had formally and irrevocably decided on the employment of submarine warfare. Mr. Wiegand rushed at once to the telephone and cabled the sensational news to America, where it was published, and put the whole world in a state of excitement.

It happened that the New York correspondent of the B. Z. am Mittag read this news one morning on the first page of the Hearst paper, the New York American. From the wording of the announcement it could be inferred that it had not yet been given out officially to the German papers; an the B. Z. am Mittag's representative naturally went and cabled the New York paper's news, word for word, to his newspaper in Berlin.

It was then apparent what had moved the Grand-Admiral to commit such an "indiscretion." Tirpitz did not believe that the Government would "stick" to its decision to begin submarine warfare. He, however, was convinced that it was essential in view of the whole war position, and he wanted to force Bethmann Hollweg to carry out the decision which had been wrung from him. In giving the news to the American journalist he knew that it would be blazoned forth to all the world, and he was convinced that it would be impossible for Germany to go back without being accused of weakness, which would mean a perceptible loss of prestige.

Now that the intention was known, the coming submarine campaign was being discussed by the whole world. The Naval Attachés of the foreign Powers came to the Admiralty to ascertain how it would be managed in detail. And, of course, the American Naval Attaché, Captain Gherardi, came too. He was affable and condescending , and talked about the "dangerous situation" like an indulgent father to an unruly child. At the end of big talk he did not omit to invite me to dinner the following night. I was not altogether comfortable about this invitation. I informed my superior officer, therefore, and asked whether I ought to accept. I was told that I must, of course, go, but that I should listen carefully to the grumblings of the ill-humoured American.

When I went to Gherardi's house the following night I was received with accustomed kindness. His wife talked about a Red Cross Dinner, but he himself was rather embarrassed in his demeanour, and we conversed at table about unimportant matters. I made a great effort to keep an interesting flow of talk going, but all the time he was muttering something incomprehensible, and for some obscure reason was even more out of sorts than usual. So I thought we might introduce more dangerous matters into the conversation, and I asked him straight out what the American Navy was saying about the proclamation of submarine warfare.

Gherardi lifted his moody countenance, raised his eyebrows, wrinkled his forehead in astonishment, leaned back in his chair, and said:

"Submarine warfare? Submarine warfare? What do you mean? There isn't going to be any warfare! Nothing will come of it! Our Ambassador has already been so informed by the Imperial Chancellor. He has been officially notified that the order for the commencement of submarine hostilities has been revoked."

Then he became red in the face and boiled over:

"You are congratulating yourselves a bit too soon! We won't put up with anything from Germany."

I found it difficult to master my excitement. I am certain that I talked at random for the rest of the evening, and I was glad when a chance came to say farewell. Outside in the street the pure night air cooled my head, and I thought things over.

When I had left the Admiralty that evening the final orders for submarine hostilities had gone out, and the U-boats must by now be on the high seas. At that time submarines carried no wireless receiving apparatus. They had, however, received the clear and unequivocal order to attack the cargo-boats of all nations which were on the way to enemy countries, and no-one could bring them back. Perhaps at this very moment the first torpedo was being launched, possibly sending to the bottom an American steamer—a few hours after the German Chancellor had told the American Ambassador that no such thing was going to happen.

I stopped a taxi and drove to the Admiralty.

Some senior officers were still at work in the building. I met two chiefs of departments in their rooms, and informed them of what I had just heard. Both stared at me in amazement. They could not believe what I told them and one of them said:

"You must have misheard!"

"No, certainly not, sir! Gherardi expressed himself in the exact words that I have just used."

The two captains grew agitated. They pointed out that as the submarines were already at sea it was extremely probable that the news of the torpedoing of an American steamer might come in at any moment.

It would have been the simplest and most proper thing to do, so far as it was possible to judge, to ring up the Chancellor the same night in order to ask him the truth about the matter. At that late hour, however, it was out of the question. Besides, the jealousy of the individual Services, the constant intrigues, conflicts, moves and counter-moves, rife even in the highest places of the Empire, ruled out such a simple course.

I had then, on the Kaiser's birthday, just been promoted lieutenant-commander. I was a small pawn in this fantastic game which those who controlled German, politics were playing with one another. But I was full of fight; and as I was walking home that night I decided that I would venture a move on this dangerous chessboard. I knew a large number of people who were mixed up in the game as a matter of routine, and I began in the morning to ring them up, one after the other.

I first telephoned to Count Westarp and to Erzberger, both members of the Reichstag. Half an hour later they were sitting on the red plush sofa in my office at the Admiralty.

It was a Sunday morning.

"Bethmann is becoming impossible," Count Westarp said. "I will see if I can collect a few more members, then we'll go and ask him what this is all about." Erzberger broke in indignantly:

"I can tell you! Eine Mords-Schweinerei!"

When they had gone I rang up Walter Rathenau, who was just beginning to organise the War Materials Department, and Dr. Salomonsohn of the Disconto-Gesellschaft. Both declared that they would go immediately to the Chancellor and ask him what had really happened. I then got hold of Helfferich, who also said he would call on the Chancellor. Next I hurried to the Reichstag, where I had a talk with Herr Südekum, the Social Democrat member. He was one of the few "field greys" among the members, and was in uniform, with the short bayonet of a non-commissioned officer at his side. He opened his eyes wide when he heard what I had to tell him, and despairingly said, as a "trooper" would:

" 'rin in die Kartoffeln, raus aus die Kartoffeln!" ("Heavens! Another order!")

Things now began to develop as I wanted them to. Each of the members of the Reichstag, everybody to whom I had given the information, promptly went to Bethmann. But what happened was astounding. The Chancellor told everybody most emphatically that he was unaware of any statement having been made to the American Embassy that the U-boat campaign had been countermanded.

Late that evening I was rung up by Count Westarp. "Listen! There's something wrong. Are you sure your information is right? Bethmann denies everything, and complains that more than a dozen politicians have called upon him during the afternoon to ask him the same question. Mum's the word! But if it should be discovered that it was you who started the 'run,' I'm afraid, my dear Captain, that you must be prepared for squalls!"

I did not get much sleep that night. I was not worried about myself, though I felt my head in the noose, but because everything was so unfathomably mysterious. Next day my fears were realised. Somebody had told the Chancellor that I, Captain Rintelen, had started a rumour to the effect that he, Bethmann, had informed the American Ambassador that the U-boat campaign would be called off.

That afternoon I had to report to my Admiral, who reprimanded me officially at the instance of the Chancellor, and was given the most unusual order to call at the Imperial Chancery during the evening in order to vindicate myself. When I arrived at the Wilhelmstrasse I was shown in to Herr Wahnschaffe, the Under-secretary of State. I told him that I was still definitely of the opinion that I had not misunderstood Gherardi. Wahnschaffe grew annoyed; but Herr Rizler, Bethmann's secretary, joined us, and he also declared that no such communication had been made, either verbally or in writing, to the American Ambassador. I was completely dumbfounded, and asked myself if I were going mad. But whom should I meet the very next day on the steps of the Admiralty, but Wahnschaffe! He returned my greeting in a somewhat embarrassed manner. An hour later I was called to my Chief's room.

"Please take note that the copy of the Chancellor's letter to the American Ambassador has been found in the Chancery."

There ensued terrific confusion, for the Admiralty was now in possession of the official communication that the Americans had been informed of the countermanding of the U-boat campaign. The Government had even made this statement in writing to the American Ambassador. On the other hand, we were faced by the fact that the U-boats had for some time been at sea and that no power in the world could prevent them from torpedoing American ships.

A few days later a message arrived. An American freighter had been sunk, and we were powerless to prevent a repetition!

From the strategic point of view as well, what now ensued was calamitous. The U-boats which had already left remained without support, had no parent ships to return to, were completely isolated and exposed to every danger.

Some time later we learned how Bethmann had come to write his letter to the American Ambassador. After Mr. Gerard had had a stormy interview with the Chancellor, representing to him that America simply would not tolerate it, Bethmann went to the Kaiser, who immediately, without wasting much thought on the matter, changed the decision which had already been taken. Yet nobody had possessed the "courage" to inform the naval authorities of this complete change of policy!

The situation had swiftly come to a head. The American Ambassador, of course, also had heard that an American freighter had been torpedoed, in spite of the declaration that he had received in writing from the German Government. He inwardly foamed with rage, but outwardly remained impassive. He deduced from the whole incident that it would be practical policy never to believe anything that the German Government told him, even when he had it formally in writing!

About this time it was that everybody in Germany was raging. Large packets of newspapers had been received from America, and there was not a word of truth in the reports that were being made about the military situation. We were particularly indignant at the numerous stories of "atrocities" which had found their way into the American papers. With this kind of journalism it was inevitable that not only the mass of newspaper readers, but gradually also official circles in America, would assume an anti-German attitude. The accounts in the American Press describing conditions in Germany were equally disgraceful. Unimportant successes on the part of the Allied armies were inflated in the American papers to the significance of outstanding victories, while news of German victories was not printed at all. The Americans were being given a completely false picture of the real situation in Europe.

Since the beginning of the War attempts had been made by Germany to influence the international Press, or rather to supply it with correct information. The German military authorities in charge of this matter, especially the Intelligence Department of the Supreme Army Command, were learning all too slowly how to win the confidence of the editors of the great German newspapers; so how was it possible for them to influence foreign journalists? Some more experienced officers at the Admiralty tried to repair much of the damage and to put things right, and the American correspondents in Germany soon got into the habit of obtaining their information from them. I too was frequently the centre of a whole group of foreign journalists.

Eventually we succeeded in making it clear to them that the military situation was not unfavourable for Germany at all. When they were finally convinced of this they were honest enough to cable impartial reports to their papers in America. But no sooner had these articles appeared than our rooms were veritably stormed by the foreign correspondents, who protested that the British were no longer transmitting their wires. The British controlled the international cables, and were naturally exercising a strict censorship in their own favour.

An idea occurred to me, and I must confess that I was unscrupulous enough to exploit it. I was on good terms with Major Langhorne, the American Military Attaché in Berlin, who too had his difficulties owing to the English control of the foreign cables. He was in search of a way to send his telegrams to Washington without London reading or intercepting them. They were, of course, in code, but the Attaché had no illusions about England's practices in this connection. He was positively convinced that the British would succeed in deciphering his code. So I proposed to him that he should give us the code telegrams and that we should have them sent via Nauen to the American wireless station, which had just been completed. In this way they would speedily reach his Government at Washington. The Yankee was startled for a moment, but then accepted my offer with gratitude, although he insisted that his telegrams should be in code.

He arrived with his first telegrams, which were sent off immediately via Nauen. I had copies made of them and called on a celebrated cipher expert, who shut himself up with the texts, and the Fates were favourable to us. It was to be presumed that the American Attaché had included in one of the telegrams, which was very long, an extensive official report from German G.H.Q., and this conjecture turned out to be correct. The expert substituted the German text for the code letters and figures, and everything fitted in.

We were now in possession of the Attaché's code, and preserved it as though it were sacred. From now on we were "reading in" Langhorne's telegrams. When we gained those great victories against Russia I cabled "my own text" to America. I re-wrote Major Langhorne's telegrams so that they gave a clear account of our military position, and added the whole extent of the enemy defeats in such a way, of course, that the American Government was bound to believe that these telegrams came from its own Military Attaché.

Things went on well for weeks. When the next batch of American newspapers arrived a certain change of view was already noticeable in the more serious journals. Germany's strategic position was regarded and criticised more favourably, and I rejoiced at this success. Suddenly, however, I myself smashed my instrument of propaganda. I overdid matters by sending a telegram which allowed a certain pro-German attitude to be apparent between the lines, and the end came soon. Without warning and without reason Major Langhorne received laconic instructions from Washington to return to America.

His successor did not hand me any telegrams for transmission. He exercised great caution, for when Major Langhorne was shown his telegrams on his arrival in Washington he of course immediately denied that he had ever sent them, and little acumen was required to realise from whom they had come.

I was pricked by conscience at the way in which I had acted, but I consoled myself with the thought that Germany was facing a world in arms, a vastly superior force, which would perhaps crush her if she did not use every means in her power to defend herself.

Every means in her power!

At the beginning of 1915 the German armies, after the great battles of the previous year, were waiting to hurl themselves once more against the enemy. They were still faced by the same opponents and the same forces. The German Supreme Army Command knew approximately the number of troops they were able to send against the enemy on the Western and Eastern Fronts, and the generals in both camps began to prepare their great moves on the chessboard of war.

At this time there emerged a new foe, raining destruction upon the German troops both in the East and in the West. It was spreading disaster everywhere, and that so terribly that the Supreme Army Command, then in Charleville, wired to the Government in Berlin:

"We are at our wits' end to defend ourselves against American ammunition."

So this was the new and dreadful enemy: American ammunition!

It was all the more to be feared, since it was being manufactured in a way that was, at the beginning of 1915, still unfamiliar to the munition factories of Europe. The American shells, which were suddenly being hurled in great quantities against the German trenches by French, British, and Russian guns, were not made of cast-iron like the European shells, but of steel. These steel casings were a diabolical invention: they were ribbed and grooved, and when the shell exploded the casing burst into thousands of small pieces and came down with terrific force upon its victim. Its explosive effect was tremendous. At the time that these shells first appeared the German Army was suffering from a very serious lack of munitions. The batteries of field artillery in the West were hardly able to get the range of important enemy positions, since they had to economise their shells for emergencies. At the beginning of 1915 there was hardly sufficient ammunition available to keep down enemy battery positions which had at last been discovered. Even shooting at targets whose range was known must only be undertaken on special orders from Corps Headquarters. In the case of attacks which took the infantry forward, artillery preparations could not be anything but scanty.

The German munition factories, in spite of enormous efforts, were far from being in a position to supply even approximately the quantity of shells required by the Army.

The French, English, and Russian factories were in exactly the same position and were unable to turn out an adequate supply of ammunition. The factories in the whole of Europe could not produce as many of these death-dealing missiles as were needed in this war.

Then America appeared on the scene. There existed at this time in the United States half a dozen large powder and explosive factories. There were also numerous great industrial undertakings which had hitherto manufactured cast steel for the needs of a peaceful world. They were now ready to adapt their machinery to the production of war-materials, thus yielding many times the ordinary profits for their directors and shareholders. There was no law in America forbidding the manufacture of munitions by these firms, and no law to prohibit their shipment. British, French, and Russian agents had, as early as 1914, entered into negotiations with American concerns. There were at first doubts and difficulties, but these were soon removed by the cheques of the prospective customers. Money appeared upon the scene of war and began to exercise its decisive influence.

The American industrialists who were prepared to adapt their works made it quite clear to the European agents that they would have to invest vast additional capital if they were suddenly to start manufacturing a different class of goods. It would be necessary to install new machinery, to make experiments. When the industrialists approached the banks, after conversations with the Allied agents, and requested credits for the purpose of adapting their works, they met with very little sympathy. Their offers of high interest rates were of no avail, for the banks realised that the manufacture of munitions involved considerable danger, and, in addition, the bankers drew the attention of the industrialists to a factor which made it impossible for American banks to employ to advantage their capital in this way.

This factor was American public opinion, which was opposed to the European War. At this stage of the conflict the citizens of America were convinced that their Government could not do better than keep as far away as possible from the military events in Europe. They took the standpoint that the warring countries would some time, perhaps very soon, have to lay down their arms, and when this juncture should arrive they were anxious to resume their ordinary profitable commercial transactions with all Europe. If America should now intervene in any way, it might eventually come to pass that Germany, for example, would boycott American goods when peace were declared if American favour had been shown to the Allies only.

These considerations were further influenced by the fact that it was still impossible to prophesy which side would come out victorious; and even then there existed in America organisations which were very influential and neglected no opportunity of representing to the Government that it must avoid doing anything which one of the European Powers might be able to regard as an unfriendly act.

These were the factors which induced the American banks to refuse credits to the factories which wanted to produce munitions. The cheques of the European agents first exerted their influence among smaller manufacturers, who began to install lathes for the making of shells. The Allies, however, realised that ultimate victory could only be assured if American shells were shipped to Europe in vast quantities. But the American banks still declined to furnish the money for the turning of large factories into munition-works, because they were afraid that the Government, urged by popular opinion, might one day prohibit the export of arms and ammunition, so that they might risk the capital invested.

Now the Allied agents took a step which abolished at one blow the hesitation of the bankers. They drafted contracts which led to the immediate production of vast quantities of munitions. In these contracts they undertook to receive at the factories any quantity that might be manufactured, and to pay for it on the spot. They took over the whole risk of transport as well as the risk that the munitions might not become available at all for the Allied armies by the prohibition of their export. They deposited at the banks letters of credit for large sums, and the bankers now had no reason to refrain any longer from manufacturing munitions. Soon both large and small banks were treading on each other's heels in their anxiety to advance money on Allied contracts, and a munition industry was in being which had veritably shot up overnight. Enormous profits could be earned without any risk whatever, and American industry did not hesitate. Steel was turned into shells and nose-caps, the railways carried explosives from the powder factories to the new munition-works, and the Dollar began to flow. Ships sailed from European ports for America, after having been swiftly adapted to the transport of munitions, and soon they lay in American ports, while great cases, guarded by Allied agents, but under the mistrustful eyes of American dockers, were piled up on the quays. After these ships had returned and had unloaded their cargoes in their home ports in Russia or in France, and when these cargoes had reached the guns on the battlefields, to scatter destruction over the German lines, the Supreme Army Command would probably again telegraph to Berlin:

"We are at our wits' end to defend ourselves against American ammunition."

The German Military Attaché in New York was ordered to report on the situation, and in his reply painted a picture which revealed the daily growth of the American armament industry. He wrote that the harbours were full Allied transports waiting to take munitions on board. He continued:

"Something must be done to stop it."

In a despairing mood General Falkenhayn wrote on one of these reports:

"Not only must something be done, as the Attaché says; something must really be done."

And a hasty meeting with General, then Lieutenant-Colonel, Hoffmann, Chief of Staff on the Eastern Front, whom I had known for a good many years, convinced me still more deeply that "something must really be done"! We sat but a few hours together, at dawn on a dreary day of March, in a room of the Hôtel Kronprinz at Dirschau, on the Vistula. After he depicted to me the situation on the Russian Front, and especially in Galicia, I was inwardly certain that the dice were cast, that America had to be attacked!

American capital had flung itself upon an opportunity to make immense profits. It was thrown into the scales of war and began to send up in a dangerous manner the balance which held Germany's fate. That was what was happening in America.

In Berlin and at General Headquarters this new invisible enemy was the cause for the deepest gloom. It was no opponent who could be faced in the open field, it was no foe whose trenches could be taken by storm; it was a spectre, an intangible phantom, against which strategy, tactics, and all the courage of the German soldier were helpless. These shipments of American munitions were the ghost which haunted the corridors of the Army Command in Charleville. A powerful and sinister hand was raised against the soldiers of Germany and hurled them back with ghastly wounds.

The Supreme Army Command, in view of the situation, made grave and resolute appeals to the Government in Berlin to stop the transport of armaments. The Government moved along the ordinary legal and political channels and remonstrated officially with the Government of the United States. Army leaders interviewed the editors of the great German newspapers and requested them to discuss America's attitude publicly in their columns.

The American Government replied in the same manner as had the American Press to the German newspapers. America took up the standpoint that she was distinctly neutral, that the shipments of munitions did not violate the laws of neutrality. It is true, declared America, that we are supplying the Allies with munitions, but we are equally prepared to supply them to Germany: "Send us orders and you will see that we shall execute them promptly."

This reply from America could be regarded in Germany only as irony. The seas were dominated by British, French, and Russian cruisers, and it was impossible for a munition transport from America to reach a German port. It was therefore impossible to place orders for munitions in the United States.

German General Headquarters were appealing to the Admiralty in Berlin to use submarines for the purpose of waylaying the transports; but the Admiralty, however, was compelled to reply that the attitude of the Government at the beginning of the War had prevented the building of submarines in sufficient quantities to prove a serious menace to the Allies' shipments of munitions.

Besides, those transports mostly took the route north of Scotland, round Spitzbergen to Archangel, when the munitions were destined for the Russian Front, and they unloaded in the Atlantic ports of France when their destination was the Western battle-fields. It was difficult in either case to attack the transports with submarines, though this would have been possible if an adequate number of U-boats had been constructed at the outbreak of hostilities. This, however, had been prevented by Bethmann Hollweg.

When it was realised that it was not possible to strangle the export of munitions from America by the usual political means, deep pessimism settled on all the military and civil authorities in the country. The attempt had been made to transfer the initiative to the Admiralty by persuading it to use U-boats, but the Admiralty had been in the unhappy position of declaring that this method was not available. But it did not content itself with this, for we officers of the Admiralty Staff spent our days and nights trying to think out schemes for stopping the mischief. Suddenly an idea emerged which it seemed possible to carry out with success.

At the time when the Supreme Army Command was renewing its urgent appeals to the Government to take action against the transport of armaments, the Americans sent a request to Berlin that they might be allowed to bring into Belgium such quantities of provisions as they wanted. The German Government had hitherto resisted this demand.

General von Kissing, the German Governor of Belgium, came to Berlin, and I had an interview with him, at which it was decided to make a bargain with the Americans. The latter emphasised their extraordinary anxiety to be allowed to feed the Belgian civil population. Good! We would agree to their request, but in return they should bind themselves to stop the munitions shipments.

I was put in charge of these negotiations because, among other reasons, the chairman of the Belgian Relief Committee, Mr. Linden W. Bates, was a personal acquaintance of mine. I was to proceed to America and discuss the matter with Mr. Bates. The Foreign Office gave me a letter to Mr. Gerard, the American Ambassador in Berlin, asking him to obtain for me a safe conduct to the States from the British Government. I called at the Embassy to hand over the letter from the Foreign Office and gave reasons why I should be allowed a safe conduct. He replied that it was impossible, and that he could not and would not do what was asked of him. [Footnote: This interview is referred to briefly by Mr. Gerard in his book, My Four Years in Germany.]

So our plans seemed to be going wrong. Further anxious days were spent in discussion, and yet we had not come to a decision when G.H.Q. warned that things could not go on like this any longer. It was imperative to take some definite step.

My work in providing money for our cruisers abroad had gradually earned me the reputation of a man who knew his way about the world in the matter of financial transactions. I knew America, had numerous connections there, and spoke English without a noticeable accent, and the authorities became convinced that I was the man to go to the United States and take action against the shipment of munitions.

The wrecking of the plan with regard to the Belgian Relief Committee had proved a serious hitch, and no-one could think of any other method of tackling the job. When it was definitely arranged that I was to go and I had accustomed myself to this idea, a new channel presented itself to our minds.

Herr Erzberger, a member of the Reichstag, had then taken the first steps in organising an international propaganda service for Germany. His international intelligence service, which ran parallel with it, was beginning to furnish exceedingly good results and considerably surpassed the purely military service of the Supreme Army Command. Herr Erzberger's Bureau had discovered a man named Malvin Rice who claimed to be closely connected with an American powder factory, the "Dupont de Nemours Powder Company," of which he said he was a shareholder and a member of the Board. He stated that this firm held a large stock of explosives which was used for the filling of the shells which had hitherto been manufactured in America. It appeared that we might, with his help, thus make large purchases of that product in the American market, sufficient in fact to jeopardise, for some time at least, the delivery of munitions for the Allies.

It naturally occurred to me that Malvin Rice's magnificent plans might come to nothing; but there was no time to lose. Either we had to believe what Malvin Rice had held out as a hope, namely, that large purchases of powder and explosives were possible, or to drop the idea then and there. I could neither brood over a possible non-success of this extraordinary journey before me, nor doubt as to whether Mr. Rice was an altogether reliable person. "Orders were Orders!"; and when the War Minister, General von Wandel, put the question to me: "You cannot give us a No!" I did not hesitate a Second. I replied: "Your Excellency, my train will leave on Monday morning!"

This was on Saturday noon, March 20th, 1915.

I left Berlin with a sigh of relief. I was thoroughly disgusted by the terrible inertia over the question as to whether submarine warfare should take place or not. Indeed, I was congratulated on all sides in the Admiralty that a new field for energetic enterprise had thus presented itself to me. I was a man who meant business!

Personally, I was extremely anxious that my journey to America should not turn out to be a mere pleasure-cruise in war-time, in view of the strong feeling aroused in Germany by the apparently one-sided comparison of two letters which I think I should quote here, and which spoke for themselves.

The Kaiser had sent that telegraphic protest to President Wilson against certain violations of the Hague International Agreements. In reply Mr. Wilson wrote:

"Washington,

"September 16th,1914.

"Your Majesty,

"I have received your telegraphic message through your Ambassador...The day for deciding the merits of your protest will come when this war is finished... It would not be wise, and indeed it would be premature, for any single Government of any particular nation to form a final opinion or to express such an opinion...

"I am, Your Majesty,

"Yours truly,

"(Signed) Woodrow Wilson."

Through the intermediary of a friendly personage in a certain Allied country I came into possession of a letter which the same President Wilson addressed, a few months later, to the President of the French Republic:

"WASHINGTON,

"December 7th, 1914.

"My dear Mr. President,

[Footnote: Re-translated from the French.]

"I feel honoured to be able thus to address you as a fellow-man of letters, and I desire to thank you very sincerely for the kind message which you have sent me through the medium of M. Brieux.

"I am sure I quite understand the circumstances which have prevented your visit to the United States, but I am anxious none the less to send you my regrets at your being unable to realise this project; and I should like to take this opportunity of expressing to you not only my own deep respect and admiration, but also the warm sympathy which all thinkers and men of letters in the United States feel for the distinguished President of France.

"The relations between our two peoples have always been relations of such cordial and spontaneous friendship that it gives me particular pleasure, as official representative of the United States, to address to you, the distinguished representative of France, my warmest sympathy for the citizens of the great French Republic.

"Believe me, dear Mr. President, my esteemed colleague,

"Yours very sincerely,

"(Signed) WOODROW WILSON."

So, when undertaking my new enterprise, I felt in my inner conscience that I had a good case for Germany. It was accepted in all quarters in Berlin that something of a more forceful nature must be done than hitherto. Indeed, conferences took place at the War Ministry, the Foreign Office, and the Finance Ministry, at each of which I outlined my plans, in so far as I could gauge the situation from my post in Berlin. The impression of energy and determination which I contrived to make gave considerable satisfaction. Men of action, particularly men like Helfferich and Zimmermann, could not help smiling when I concluded one speech with: "Ich kaufe was ich kann ; alles andere schlage ich kaput! [Footnote: "I'll buy up what I can, and blow up what I can't"] One and all they resolutely agreed with me that sabotage was the only alternative.

As it had been decided that I should travel under an assumed name, there was a risk that the German military police themselves might hold me up at the port. The Foreign Office therefore decided to issue me a "Kaiserpass" in my real name. A "Kaiserpass" was an altogether exceptional passport, which could only be issued with the knowledge and consent of the Foreign Office, and only to people on special Government missions, instructing all authorities, embassies and legations to render the bearer every assistance of which he might stand in need. "Thus provided, guarded, guided," I strapped my bags and set sail for America.

How badly indeed "forcible measures" were necessary was soon afterwards shown by Papen's letter to Falkenhayn, Chief of the General Staff, thanking him that at last someone had come to America to act with every means possible.

It was arranged with Malvin Rice, who had since returned to New York, that I should sail on the Norwegian steamer Kristianiafjord, due in New York in the early days of April, 1915, while he was to meet me at the dock.

I had to start within a few hours. I provided myself with an excellent Swiss passport, which had been cunningly printed in Berlin, with all the requisite stamps, seals, and endorsements, and the German Captain Rintelen became the Swiss citizen Emile V. Gaché. I chose this name because one naval officer in Berlin was married to a Swiss lady, who now became my sister, and coached me with information about numerous nephews, nieces, aunts, uncles, and other relations whom I had thus newly acquired. She gave me a photograph of my parents' house and of the little cottage high up in the Swiss mountains which we also owned, and furnished me with private lessons on the Swiss Civil Code and my army duties. My new initials were sewn on my linen, which was sent to a laundry in order that the letters should not appear too new. There was, in short, a number of small things to be attended to, and carefully attended to, because it was quite certain that I should have to submit during my journey to the inspection of keen-eyed officers of the British Navy.

A few hours before my departure I provided myself with the necessary "working capital," which I only succeeded in collecting when the train which was to take me towards my new duties was almost getting up steam and it was high time for me to drive to the station. In the short time at my disposal I succeeded in arranging for a cable transfer of half a million dollars as a "starter."

The die was cast. While motoring in a service-car to the railway station I pondered over the contents of a letter which but a few days before had been addressed to me by Count Westarp and Dr. von Heydebrand, the leader of the then almighty Conservative Party—"the uncrowned King of Prussia" he was called—suggesting that I should become an M. d. R. (M.P.).

Admiral von Tirpitz narrates in his Memoirs how I was to replace a Member of the Reichstag, recently deceased. The blue naval uniform was to make its first appearance in the Reichstag beside the many members in "field grey"; and an "A.K.O.", eine Allerhöchste Kabinetts-Order [Footnote: Topmost cabinet order]—had been signed by the Kaiser, giving the necessary permission for a procedure which, under the old conditions, was something of a quite unusual nature.

Well, I had now given my word to the Minister of War, and there could be no going back on my word. But how different my career might have become; for, instead of about three months' absence, it was to take me nearly six years to reach "Journey's End."

What if I had even as much as thought of such a possibility then, leaving behind home, wife, and child, and of how cruelly Fate was to tear us asunder for ever!

The "little creature" of 1915 immensely enjoyed the ride to the station, sitting as she did by the side of the chauffeur; in 1921 she did not recognise her returning father...