The Adventures of the Pilot from Tsingtau -Pages 103 - 112

They Get Me! San Francisco! This huge, marvelous city! The best part was, I wasn't arrested. No officials bothered about me and I stayed there for a few days despite the misgivings of the German Consulate, which thought I was already in custody. Seldom in my life have I seen such a crazy, fun-filled night as New Years Eve in San Francisco. Everything I had been told about it was nothing in comparison to the reality of it. The entire city seemed to transform into a madhouse. And the people, hot-blooded down to the last drop. Handsome and powerful men. Charming blond women and girls. One of my friends invited me to one of the largest and most beautiful pleasure palaces. Exorbitant admission fees and only the best of the best people. On this night it seemed anything was possible. And then there's the music and the dancing, so enchanting and beautiful and wild— it is "the" night in San Francisco!

On January second, nineteen fifteen I departed again, coincidentally meeting my comrade and other Germans with whom I had been with on the steamship. We were together on the same train. It was a pleasant journey. Newspapers covered good reports from Germany. Some of the older gentlemen and ladies were going directly to the homeland and we two officers believed that we wouldn't have to stray too far from our own destination. At the Grand Canyon in Arizona a train was overturned. This powerful act demonstrated to us nature's true wonder. We went farther on crossing the prairies all day long. We traded boyhood memories of the Leatherstocking Tales and the Last of the Mohicans, then we parted in Chicago. I went to Virginia to visit a dear friend, which was only made possible as an extended trip back to Europe. After two or three days I traveled on to New York to seek my fortune. I had to stay in New York for three whole weeks. It was three weeks of learning about New York and its people and its way of life. Three full weeks during which I often didn't know how to control my anger. It beat all that I had experienced until now. Scarcely a picture, scarcely a newspaper, scarcely an advertisement which didn't rage against Germany, which didn't drag the names of valiant German warriors through the muck. Even in New York "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" seemed to have become the national anthem. There was nothing one could do to open the eyes of these people. They wouldn't hear or see the truth.

In fact most of them didn't know anything about Germany. They rarely knew where it was on the map and yet they prejudged it. One could sense the incredible power possessed by the dishonest English press and how undiscriminating and stupid the American was in falling for this big heap of lies. I did whatever was in my power to do. I talked and explained and tried to convince people but received the same response everywhere I went: "Yes, we believe that you personally had nothing to do with these horrible deeds, but the other Germans, the huns and the barbarians, they did it. It says it right here in black and white in the Times! It must be true. It's unthinkable to say that such a great newpaper would not speak the truth." It was a great comfort to receive such tender treatment from my acquaintances and their friends and I was truly grateful for it. One evening I was especially irritated. I went to the Metropolitan Opera where among other things they presented one act from "Hänsel and Gretel." German music, German words, and German song! My heart was overcome with crazed and painful longing for my beloved fatherland. My soul drank up the German singing. Intoxicated, I went out to the street and was roughly jolted back into reality. As it was every evening, there was a huge crowd of people in front of the theater. Up above a blank wall was lit up, like it was every evening. In capital letters a projector flashed the latest news of the war on the wall. Of course. Once again Russian had achieved a major victory, the English had completely annihilated the German Crown Prince's army! The crowd howled with joy.

Then there were a few battle scenes. First a couple of English and French battleships and then suddenly the German cruiser "Goeben." The crowd paused. There was a whistling noise, then a hissing and a cry of pfui which seemed to have no end. These were the neutral Americans so concerned with human rights and justice! To this point my attempts to reach Europe had been for nothing. I had imagined it would have been easier. I succeeded only by the width of a hair. I found work available on a Norwegian sailing ship and wanted to immediately offer my services as a sailor, but I was strongly advised not to avail myself of this opportunity because there would be many English sailors on board. I passed up the opportunity and continued looking. Finally I found what I was looking for. By coincidence I met a man who had lived a full life. He had travelled the world for years and now lived for some time in New York. I never found out what he actually did, but he had one particular talent—he could alter old passports. We quickly came to an agreement. After a few hours I had my new passport with my photograph cleanly attached, all previous entries and departures appropriately stamped. And so, on the thirtieth of January, nineteen fifteen the Swiss locksmith apprentice Ernst Suse boarded the neutral Italian steamship "Duca degli Abruzzi" and disappeared in steerage. Two hours later we passed the Statue of Liberty. Five nautical miles from the Port of New York there were two English cruisers guarding the point of entry.

A shining example of freedom on the seas! The steamship journey was dreadful. Despite being accustomed to some discomfort as a naval officer and torpedo boat operator, I had never dreamt of anything like this. The ship was top heavy and it rolled and pitched so excessively that as a seasoned sailor I was convinced that the boat would capsize in the open sea. And the bugs! They were a story in themselves. On the morning of the third day of our trip I stood on deck and looked longingly at first class. There a pair of cute little faces looked over the railing. Then a man came over to them. I nearly called his name out loud. I recognized him at once. There was no doubt. It was my comrade T, who had left Shanghai with me. He saw me too but only recognized me after he made a few loud comments to his wife about the dirty apprentice (that was me) down below. Suddenly he went quiet, his eyes widened and a smile of recognition crossed his face. He turned and walked away. In the evening in complete darkness I had a short opportunity to speak with him. He traveled as a distinguished man from Holland (but naturally he didn't speak a word of Dutch.) Like me he wanted to get to Naples and from there go home. The best part of all of it was that the two of us had been busy each day in New York trying to find a way home but as it turned out each of us had promised his respective supporter that we wouldn't say a work to anyone.

The two of us had kept our word. But here was the kicker: Both of us had been with the same man! A few days after we left New York I suddenly got sick. I had a high fever and had to stay in my bunk. I didn't know what it was. Maybe malaria? The Italian doctor seemed to be in agreement. He gave me a ridiculous quantity of quinine. The results were immediate. I was sicker than before and my temperature rose to 40 degrees [104 degrees Fahrenheit] for several days. These days were indescribable. In our hole of a cabin four of us lived together. Above me was a Frenchman who only stopped gabbing and eating when he was seasick. Next to me was a pale and composed man from Switzerland (that was a bit suspicious.) This man was so seasick I doubted he would ever reach Europe alive. However to the left and above me was a raving Englishman, who despite the closed porthole smoked his navy-cut pipe both day and night, was drunk almost all the time and scarcely quit with his bellowing insults about Germany. Plus my bunk was directly next to the hydralic rudder and then came the worst thing of all: the insects! I had never imagined things could get this bad! The pests didn't come solo but by the dozens. There was the noise, the unbearable stench, and the seasick men to boot! Despite my dreadful weakness I tried to kill or drive off the little brown bunkmates. However I soon noticed I was powerless against them.

I eventually became resigned to it all. The journey would only last a few more days and then I would be in beautiful Italy. After a few days recovering I would be back in my beloved fatherland. I used all my energy to overcome my illness. Thoughts of Germany helped me recover. On the eighth of February the steamship reached Gibraltar and I could stand upright again. Gibraltar! How often had I passed by this rock before. How I had been moved by the sight of this gray stone as I had returned from foreign lands, traveling through its narrows leading back to my true home. What could I expect this time? Putting into the harbor of Gibraltar was not on the travel plan but the steamer docked there without receiving a request for inspection. The Italians had already become such slaves of the British! As soon as the ship laid anchor two battleship launches pulled alongside. An English naval offier, some policemen and many English sailors armed to the teeth came onboard. A bell sounded throughout the ship and the order came: All foreign passengers who are not Italian or English come to the Command Deck. The stewards went around checking every room and cabin. Like a herd of sheep surrrounded by English sailors and Italian stewards we were driven up to the bridge. I wasn't the least bit happy with this! However I remained confident since I soon established that I was the only one outfitted with a proper passport with photograph. To my great discomfort I found out that there were five Swiss nationals in all but three of them were suspect due to their withdrawn and silent demeanor.

There was one individual from Switzerland whom I had not yet seen but he was so dirty and covered in filth that I carefully stepped to the side away from him once he placed himself near me. After about an hour, once the passengers in first class were perfunctorily and courteously examined, we were next. Here stood six poor sinners. The first was an Italian-Swiss workman missing his right arm. His wife, a typical Italian, cried and threw herself at the feet of the Englishman. She had brought up all her belongings from steerage. Everyone whined and the Englishman looked suspiciously at them. After a brief interview the man was allowed to leave. Now it was our turn. The largest of us Swiss men stood on the right flank. The English officer stepped up to him and said, "Are you a German officer?" Naturally there was outrage and protest from the man. The Englishman did not react to this. The unlucky bugger had to step to the side. The officer took a close look at the remaining four of us. We handed over our passports and each of us delivered our best story. After a brief time the officer said, "OK, the four of you can go, but this one I'm taking with me!" My heart pounded in my throat with relief. Then the squealer entered. A dodgy fellow in flawless civilian clothing approached the officer and told him in a flustered voice, "It's out of the question for you to let the four of them go without further examination. I'm convinced that all four of them are German. All of their belongings must be thoroughly searched."

We protested loudly but it did not help. With unwilling resentment the English officer followed this troublemaker and they began to search the cabin. Everything was ransacked. The troublemaker snooped through everything but didn't find anything suspicious. No signatures, nothing! Suddenly the fellow turned, ripped off my jacket and turned my breast pocket inside out. Triumphantly he said to the officer, who was standing next to him: "Look. No name, no monogram. That is the sign that he is a German because he destroyed all the monograms." Oh, if only I could have given the nasty cur a hit to the head! We soon found out that this civilian was a representative of the firm Thomas Cooke & Brothers in Gibraltar. He provided service as a streamship interpreter and spy sleuth. He spoke such good German that he must have enjoy many years of German hospitality. How many unfortunates' lives had this little snake destroyed? Once again we were herded to the bridge like cattle. Then a second Judas Iscariot arrived at the request of the Cook representative. This man was a Swiss passenger from first class and at the behest to the snooper he tested our knowledge of Swiss-German. All five of us failed. Protest didn't help. Uselessly I tried to tell these people the craziest stories like I simply couldn't be German. As a child at the age of three I left Switzerland with my parents and moved to Italy. Then I moved to America. In good Italian and American I talked my head off. I was nearly let go then the little snake hissed some more, and ___ ___ ___ all was lost!

The English officer wasn't about to listen to anything else. He merely stated that many more Swiss had already passed through Gibralter than there could possibly be in this world. Feeling anger that nearly brought me to insanity, I was hauled away. I quickly threw a few personal items together and managed to slip a note into the hand of one of the German women, who faithfully sent it on to my relatives. With a shove a seaman pushed me down the ship's ladder and onto the launch where the four others sadly sat already hunched over. Then the English officer and his snoop boarded and we sped off. The Swiss traitor stood at the railing of the steamship and looked pleased with himself. I couldn't contain myself any longer. I jumped up, gestured to him with my fist, and yelled an insult at him. Hysterical and treacherous laughter answered me. Straight ahead at the starboard railing a pair of mournful German eyes silently bade me farewell. Goodbye, you luck comrade. Say hello to the homeland for me when you get there in a few days!

Go to pages 113 - 142

Return to Index

Imaging and translation by Susan Kriegbaum-Hanks