TRAPPED ON BOARD THE GRAF SPEE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 11, Issue 285, 8 December 1944, Page 14

TRAPPED ON BOARD THE GRAF SPEE

Wellington Resident Recalls His Experiences In River Plate Battle

I T will be five years next Wednesday (December 13) since three British cruisers, one of them our own Achilles, attacked and crippled the pocket battleship Graft Spee. Throughout the battle, which ended with the scuttling of the Graf Spee four days later, there were British prisoners on board the German ship, and one of them, A. D. DIXON | (right), is now a resident of Wellington. Here is his account of his experiences as told after his liberation to the "Peking and Tientsin Sunday Times": * Ea * T was when we were four days out from Durban that we heard the S.O.S. from the Doric Star, attacked on the high seas by a German raider. Our own ship, the Tairoa, homeward bound from Brisbane, promptly altered course. Next day at 4.45 a.m. we were roused from our bunks by the look-out: "All hands on deck! There’s the raider, on the horizon!" We dived into warm clothing and made for the fo’c’sle head. I trained my binoculars on a ship which was heading straight for us and coming up very fast. From her high control-tower I realised she was a battleship of sorts. We hove to and Captain Starr ran up the answering pennant. No one was certain what she was as, at that distance, no ensign was visible; but we guessed she was the raider which had sunk the Doric Star. She bore down on us at a tremendous pace, and then I saw the Nazi ensign. They saw it on the bridge, and Sparks was ordered to send out an S.0.S. — "Tairoa being attacked by Scheer." As he was sending the message, the raider opened fire. Five-nine shells hit the bridge; wheel and binnacle were smashed, and sandbags simply disappeared overboard. "All hands to the boats!" We on the fo’c’sle made for the bridge ladder. I was half-way up when something like a cricketball struck my sea-boot. Running aft, I was climbing the iron ladder to the boat-deck, when another burst of firing hit the bridge. A white-hot piece of metal went streaking across the deck, and my binoculars, which were slung round my neck, were knocked clean overboard. A Boarding-Party With Second Officer Costa we had lowered one boat into the water when a launch from the raider pooped the stern. Her officer waved to us to get back on board, and as we returned to the ship, a boarding-party climbed up the rope ladder. Then, by the seamen’s hatbands, we saw that the raider was the pocket battleship, Graf Spee. The two lifeboats in the water were ordered to be cast adrift. Then Captain Starr was told to get under way, but he explained that as the forward steer-ing-gear had been shot away he would have to use the docking bridge wheel aft. Thereupon the German officer changed his mind, sent @ semaphore

message to the Graf Spee, and ordered us to collect clothes and blankets as we must go aboard the raider as prisoners-of-war. The boarding-party scurried round with revolvers, opening up hatches, and _ putting time-bombs into the holds. It was about now that I felt as if my boot was full of water and my ankle began to be painful. I found my boot full of blood, and realised that what had struck it as I climbed the ladder was a shell fragment. I was put into the first launch, together with two sailors who had both been wounded in the thigh. "Chivalry of the Sea" On board the Graf Spee they put us into the hospital ward, where a doctor X-rayed my ankle and then told me he would not extract the shrapnel unless it were painful, as he did not wish to risk cutting an artery. He was a fine, fatherly fellow, with a full moustache and a duelling-scar on his cheek; he was from Heidelberg, and spoke English well. They sank the Tairoa by gun-fire and steamed off. A couple of hours later Captain Langsdorff visited us in hospital and apologised for having wounded us. "We do not make war on civilians," he said, "but you use your telefunken, so I have to open fire!" He was a sandy-haired man of medium height, aged, as I judged him, about 42, with a keen, intelligent face. He was an officer of the Imperial Navy, and upheld the traditional chivalry of the sea. In the nine merchantmen he sank, only three British were wounded, all on the Tairoa. On the third day of steaming at full speed, we met the German tanker which refuelled the Graf Spee. Captain Starr and the crew of the Tairoa, except for the Chief Officer, Chief Engineer, Wireless Operator, and Chief Refrigerating Officer, were put on board her. We in hospital waved good-bye to our shipmates from the port-hole as the launches took them across, It was the last we saw of them. Another Capture Four days later, at six in the evening, the Graf Spee sighted another British ship. Gasmasks were distributed and the

three doctors came to collect first-aid material. Then the Graf Spee hove to, and we guessed it must be another merchantman. It was the Streonshall, nine days out from Buenos Aires. Half-an-hour later we heard her being sunk by bombs. The prisoners were brought to the medical ward for inspection; till they saw us they had no idea that there were other British prisoners on board. Next day we were pronounced fit, and left the hospital ward to join the officers locked up amidships over the magazine. ‘There were 28 of them in a small, pettyofficers’ mess-room. Most of the Graf Spee seamen were between 18 and. 22 years old. Many of them could speak good English and were quite friendly. They wore small imperials and moustaches. When they met each other they raised their hands with "Heil Hitler." When the doctor came to the hospital ward, the attendants shouted "Achtung!" clicked their heels and raised their arms in the Nazi salute. They were not averse to speaking of the war. They all hated "Shurshill," as they called our First Lord of the Admiralty. "British Navy This Time" On the morning of December 13, we were awakened at 5.30 by the alarm bells and tumbled out of our hammocks. "What's it this time, boys. Another poor old merchant ship?" Three long blasts sounded on the siren. "That’s something new!" We looked at each other with raised eyebrows and listened. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash. An 11-inch gun was opening fire astern. A pause, then another crash; a salvo of heavy stuff whistled astern. "It’s the British Navy this time, boys!" And so it was. The guns thundered above us, and we heeled over as the Graf Spee began to zigzag. A shudder ran through her as she was. hit for’ard. We realised that we were being engaged by more than one ship as we were firing on both sides. It was hopeless to worry about being blown up. If a direct hit got the magazine below us, we should know nothing whatever about it. Through three rivet-holes we could watch the guards outside hauling up shells from the magazine below us, all wearing their gasmasks. We also saw them carrying the first wounded down from the decks. Through the skylight came reflected the glare from the ship’s

seaplane which had caught fire. Through a clink in the skylight’s steel shutter we could see that it was a fine sunny day with cloudless blue sky. It may occur to readers to wonder why the sailors were wearing gasmasks. It was ‘a routine regulation; they used them for protection from the fumes of explosives. The rumour that gas-sheils had been used by the British originated because the Germans had sprayed a powerful new disinfectant over the decks and the corpses. It had such a strong odour that it even penetrated our locked ward-room. ‘The German doctor who came on board at Montevideo may have mistaken the odour for the fumes of gas and spread ‘the gas-shell rumour, which was soon utterly discredited. At 10.10 I was in the bathroom washing and an officer was shaving, when crash! a shell landed on our bulkhead and put the lights out. Shell splinters were sprayed round the ward-room and one slightly wounded one of my mates. During a lull in the afternoon the mas-ter-at-arms, whom we had nicknamed "Jericho," came in to inspect the damage. He picked up a fragment and said with a grin, "Made in England, ja?" "My Turn to be a Prisoner" At lunch we could not have coffee as the cook’s galley had been hit, but weak limejuice was served with the eternal sausage and black bread. It fell quiet during the afternoon and we began to think we had got away from the British ships, but in the evening we opened fire again. They must have done some excellent shooting, for the Graf Spee got badly knocked about. In the evening the Achilles and Ajax closed, and only by skilfully turning the stern to them did Captain Langsdorff save his ship. The master-at-arms was full of admiration for them for daring to. come so near. He said again and again. "You British are very hard!" Captain Langsdorff himself speaking of the battle to Captain Dove, also repeated, "You British. are hard!" Another lull and we went to bed, thinking we should probably escape the British in the dark, but at 9.45 p.m. our eleven-inch gun fired again. There were three deliberate shots. The last, at 10.15, closed the action. I dropped off to sleep, but at 12.30 was awakened by the ship’s vibration as she went astern. In came the Lieutenant-Commander, "Gentlemen," he said, "you are free. We are at Montevideo. It is my turn to be a prisoner!"