Read an Excerpt
Shadow Voyage
By Peter A. Huchthausen John Wiley & Sons
ISBN: 0-471-45758-2
Chapter One
Uncertain Crossing
A young seaman stood on Bremerhaven's Columbus Quay early one August morning in 1939, gazing up at Bremen's graceful bow. He could hear the humming of the auxiliary plant providing power inside the black-hulled giant as he contemplated the journey ahead. Wilhelm Bohling, an eighteen-year-old apprentice waiter in the first-class dining salon, treasured the early predawn hours before the pier area and large ship awoke to a beehive of activity, deck hands washing down the decks, shining the brass fittings, and readying the ship for departure. In a few hours hundreds of passengers would be arriving by train, bus, and car for embarkation. Bohling had walked the entire way from the center of town to the pier area in the early morning hours anticipating the departure, wearing his blue uniform with its triple rows of shiny gold buttons. He had overheard two passersby say in response to an unheard question, "Oh, he's a sailor off Bremen." The phrase had made Bohling happy and proud to be so identified. He gazed up at the high stem of the ship with its graceful flaring bow of highly polished steel. He could make out the city crest of Bremen in relief high atop the prow, giving the ship a seal of identity and setting her apart from her sister ship, Europa, which looked identical with the two squat yellow funnels. The mooring lines, thick as Bohling'supper arms, stretched like a spider web to the bollards on the pier side. This was not just a ship, he thought, the largest and fastest in Germany; it was his home, it was warm and it fed well.
SS Bremen At sea
Tuesday, August 22 to Monday, August 28, 1939
Bremen sailed from Bremerhaven on Tuesday, August 22, at 2:00 p.m., with 1,220 passengers aboard bound for New York via Southampton and Cherbourg-officially logged as Bremen's Voyage 187. In brilliant weather the next day she steamed past Dover and anchored off Southampton for two hours to embark more passengers. Many of the crew aboard were wrestling with quiet doubts and fears of the unpredictable future. Most felt an uncomfortable foreboding that events at home in Germany were spiraling out of control, and above all, feared they might lose their precious access to world travel, specifically their regular trips to New York. Indeed, at this time Bremen was widely viewed as a metaphor for German American esteem that had emerged and flourished following the dark days of World War I. To those who cultivated strong friendships and ties with Americans, the mutual respect and closeness took on an importance far greater than the crew's loyalty to the new German political dogma. As sailors they were primarily internationalists, but in Germany it was not prudent to openly admit it.
The Bremen sailed again the same day to make Cherbourg, taking on a total of five hundred additional passengers and disembarking very few. It seemed that more people were leaving Europe than going the other way. There were now 1,770 passengers embarked.
On this same day Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin signed the nonaggression pact with its secret clause for the division of Poland. Of course, the ship's crew learned of this only much later.
Early on Thursday morning, to punctuate their concerns for the future, the Bremen bridge watch sighted the French liner Normandie coming from Le Havre bound also for New York via Southampton. Previously, such chance encounters at sea were celebrated with excitement, waving, and exchange of salutes. This time, however, crew and passengers aboard both ships appeared uncharacteristically glum and merely stared quietly across the sea at the other ship, showing little sign of emotion, perhaps their thoughts dwelling on the gradually withering security of peacetime. The two ships were steaming on nearly parallel courses, but for some reason Bremen veered away to the south until she drew outside visual range, then swung back to a westerly heading. The crew guessed their captain was shunning company, especially with a French or English ship, given the tense state of affairs in Europe.
The ship's passengers were kept well aware of the current situation in Europe through the Lloyd Post newspaper, copied daily by wireless and run off on a mimeograph machine for all to read. Feelings aboard were tense, especially since it appeared that the standoff between Germany and Poland was reaching a climax. Most of the crew had little to say about what was happening, yet some believed the whispers of the Nazi Party SA Bordsturm people integrated aboard with the crew who were claiming the Polish hordes were knocking at the gates of Berlin. But most sailors serving in the first-class areas, like Bohling, were too busy meeting the demands of the passengers and scrambling for tips, which in those times were gold mines for those men and women who had experienced the ravages of the last ten years of Germany's economic doldrums.
The Bremen crew had been imbued with the code that their single most important function was pleasing the passengers, and they were clever enough to succeed in meeting those demands in manners affable enough to garner handsome remuneration in the form of U.S. dollars or reichmarks. Thus, the crew lost themselves in the daily routine, but always kept their ears attuned to the abundant rumors circulating the ship for any tidbits that might indicate a change to the voyage schedule.
Bohling had made friends with a second-generation German American family in Hoboken, New Jersey, on his first trip to New York, and on each subsequent visit spent time with them, went on outings, and gradually became accepted as one of the fold. Ernst Henningsen, also from Bremerhaven, the son of a sailor who had served for many years aboard Norddeutscher Lloyd passenger ships, was a waiter in the first-class dining room. He was especially happy to be on this trip. Having spent two years as a waiter aboard the sister ship Europa before changing to Bremen, the twenty-year-old waiter had worked his way into the coveted job as a top waiter with its many rewards. Heinz Slominski, a rough-and-tumble seaman from Bremen on the ship's deck force, was also happy to be aboard, as this would be his second trip to New York, where he had made fast friends with a family originally from Germany whom he visited on every opportunity. Walter Renneberg, a twenty-two year old from Hamburg, had shipped aboard Bremen as an intern cook working directly for Leading Cook Hans Kunlen, the rotund and jovial chef with thirty years' experience aboard Bremerhaven liners. Renneberg was especially pleased to be close to all major events in the galley, a position that enabled him to barter with other crewmen for precious items, such as American cigarettes, French cognac, or English toffee, in return for delicacies he could easily pilfer from the plenteous galley. Besides misappropriating food to trade, Renneberg kept a detailed memoir of his time on Bremen.
Thus, while hard at work during the frequent transits, many of the Bremen crew enjoyed their ties with American families in and around New York. The families' relations with the ships' crew provided the new Americans a fond link to their past and the nostalgic memory of German customs, food, and, especially during this time, rumors and tidbits of news from their homeland. These contacts had taken on vital importance as the printed news was gradually being filled with half-truths and outright lies pumped out by the new Berlin Propaganda Ministry. It was growing more and more difficult to know precisely what was going on at home in their towns and villages. Loyalties became more diffused with the growth of the Nazi Party, and while the crew were limited by regulations to possessing only four American dollars, there were innumerable ways to enlist the help of their many New York friends to overcome the restrictions to purchase American items, which were rare in Europe, and bring them home as gifts to their families or girlfriends. The regulations were spelled out in detail in the passenger brochure for each transit:
According to the German Regulations Governing the Control of Foreign Currency German coins can be accepted from passengers in payment for services on board only during the ship's voyage from Bremerhaven to the first foreign port of call, Southampton and then only within the limits of 10 Reichsmarks. No German money whatever, notes or silver, will be accepted on the homeward bound voyage from New York to Europe.
Bremen's passengers on this trip were mostly Americans, heading home after cutting short vacations on the Riviera or elsewhere in Europe, instigated by the rumors of war and abuses of certain minorities. On this transit, there were a half-dozen high-ranking German diplomats, five of them envoys to South American countries returning to their posts following consultations in the Foreign Ministry in Berlin. The first-class passenger list boasted important personalities such as Claudius Dornier Jr, scion of the famous aircraft manufacturer; Baroness Elisabeth von Epenstein-Mauternburg; Prince Egon zu Hohenlohe-Langenburg, and Princesses Maria Franciscaes and Elisabeth zu Hohenlohe-Langenburg-high-sounding names that may have meant something to the ship's officers but not to the normal sailor. Also aboard for this crossing were State Councilor H. E. Pabst, the Reich's wool minister, and Keizo Yamamoto, cousin of the Japanese admiral soon to become famous in the Pacific war. There were also a large number of tourists who looked as if they were hauling their life's belongings in their baggage. There was even Donna Fox, captain of the 1936 U.S. Olympic bobsled team, and another lady, a Jewish author in tourist class, who never left her cabin for fear of the German authorities.
The passengers seemed more solemn than they normally would be after embarking on a five-day luxurious voyage. There was considerably less dancing in the ballroom and the bar dispensed much more alcohol than normal, already a considerable amount. Many guests remained in the bar until the wee hours talking about the situation in Europe and could be heard discussing the most recent offers of compromise made by Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain.
The first night out of Bremerhaven a fist fight erupted in the tourist lounge on C deck between a British passenger and a German from Berlin. Bohling said the Englishman was drunk and had taken offense when the Berliner, also in the advance stages of inebriation, called him a Jew-bastard and punched him in the nose. Leading First Officer Eric Warning was called to the scene after two of the SA Bordsturm pounced on the hapless Englishman and beat him nearly to a pulp. That same evening, the crew learned that one of the night stewards, Heinrich Behrens, was missing. They searched the ship and never found him. It was rumored he was involved with a French girl in Cherbourg, and no one could remember seeing him since they left that port. Captain Adolf Ahrens made a log entry to that effect and reported him as missing by wireless message to the Norddeutscher Lloyd Bremerhaven office. Another rumor had it that Behrens was in trouble with the onboard SA Bordsturm troopers, who were known to do some pretty nasty things. He reported to work the first day out of Bremerhaven, after having been summoned by the SA for disciplinary action for failure to salute properly during the departure ceremony. He had acquired a black eye and showed signs he had taken the worst in a fight. He was never seen again.
Captain Ahrens was a likable man. The crew mostly saw him at a distance, but he seemed friendly enough, appearing much like a benevolent bear, with a ready smile, looking as if he was sharing a pleasant secret when he gazed at his crewmen. Born in Bremerhaven in 1879, he first shipped out at age fourteen aboard the fully rigged Renee Rickmers. After five years aboard sailing ships, he attended the Maritime School at Elsfurt and qualified as a quartermaster. He began serving with Norddeutscher Lloyd in 1901 and continued with their ships, achieving his first command of the SS Columbus in 1928. After periodically replacing the first and original captain, Commodore Leopold Ziegenbein, during vacations or sickness, Ahrens became the permanent captain of Bremen in 1936, in the midst of the ongoing struggle with the new Nazi effort to take control of the spiritual backbone of the German merchant fleet.
On Friday, August 25, still three days out of New York, a Bremen radio telegrapher handed Leading Radio Officer Kurt Gerstung the message he had just copied on the typewriter while guarding the Berlin Norddeich merchant broadcast. It was a wireless warning message sent with the prefix key H followed by the code QWA, signifying it was for Bremen to copy. Gerstung took the message and read it, immediately stiffening in reaction. "Exact time of receipt?" he queried the operator sharply.
"Exactly 20:06 Greenwich time, sir," the operator answered, surprised at the officer's reaction.
Gerstung bolted for the radio room door. He had been briefed about the new emergency operational codes promulgated by the Navy High Command in Berlin to all German merchant ships two weeks before. In view of the deteriorating situation with Poland, the navy was preparing to take over operational control of all shipping, which would happen following a series of radio alert commands using the code QWA prefixed by the letter H, for Handelsmarine (merchant fleet). Gerstung now had in his hands the first message with that code. He raced one deck up from the boat deck to the bridge on the sun deck level and directly aft to Captain Ahrens's sea cabin, stopping at the door to catch his breath before knocking.
Gerstung was the ship's senior radio officer, trained in the well-known DEBEG, in Hamburg, which had for years proven their worth as one of the leaders of the world's maritime radio services. Gerstung had recently attended the special Abwehr school in Wilhelmshaven, under command of military intelligence, for radio direction finding and communications intelligence, specializing in traffic analysis. He was fluent in English and had a reinforced team of talented radio-intercept personnel aboard, also trained in Berlin with the DEBEG and subsequently by the Abwehr B Service in Wilhelmshaven. Gerstung's assistant was a Bordsturm officer and several of his men were subordinate to the SA Bordsturm party organization. Despite the integration of these SA men, Gerstung's radio room operated efficiently and his operators buried their feelings of animosity. He and his men would play a key role in the next months during Bremen's dash into history.
Gerstung opened the door and stepped into the cabin as soon as he heard Captain Ahrens's soft, "Enter."
Gerstung saluted, then handed the message to the captain. "Important alert signal," he said.
Ahrens studied the message:
QWA 7-All ships deviate from scheduled tracks by 30-100 nautical miles as security precaution.
Ahrens looked up at the communicator. "Very well," he said. "Please call First Officer Warning and ask him come to my cabin. Let me know as soon as you hear anything new." He turned and walked back to his desk, looking intently at the chart laid out beneath a reading light. "And Gerstung," he added calmly, "be very alert regarding intercepts from any other vessels, especially British. I wish to know immediately if you hear any chatter from British or American warships. Understood?" He paused, then added, "Oh yes, and from now on there will be no lettergrams sent for the passengers; we are to transmit only what I give you. Tell the passengers that atmospheric conditions have made this service unavailable."
"Perhaps we should notify the passengers officially that this service is canceled," Gerstung suggested.
"Yes," Ahrens replied. "Good idea. I'll have Master Warning post a notice to that effect on the passenger bulletin board."
Gerstung clicked his heels, "Aye, Herr Captain!" He departed quickly and slid down the ladders three steps at a time thinking, This action is exactly what I love! Plus, it was good not to have to send those lettergrams; it was always a bother for his men.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Shadow Voyage by Peter A. Huchthausen Excerpted by permission.
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