Ten months in a German raider

by John Stanley Cameron

Early in the morning after making this change I had to go down to the Antiseptic Department and have my trunks very minutely searched and my clothes disinfected. In fact, I had to appeal to the Second Doctor to escape being run through the dis-lousing plant. Here anything that proved of interest to the prisoner officer was taken away from me, with the promise that it would be returned later. My books, letters and paper clippings were religiously read and returned. I had a 3A Eastman Kodak which they seized, and imagine my surprise some days later when a roll of films—half of which had been exposed by me—was handed to me by the officer in charge of the photographic department. They had taken this roll of films out of my camera and developed them, just for curiosity, I suppose.

From here I was taken to the Recording Lieutenant's office and put through a rigid examination, being asked innumerable questions regarding my movements in the past five years, also questions regarding my parents' origin, occupation and present standing. All this fuss because one of the prize crew had found in my quarters a pamphlet giving information regarding the United States Naval Reserve requirements. I thought I had got rid of all this junk, but evidently I must have overlooked something.

My officers and sailors were taken to the regular prisoners' quarters aft, and I was not allowed to see or speak to them.

Now comes what I consider the most awful period of my experience. My wife, who is naturally of a highly strung and courageous disposition, broke down under the preceding five days' strain and loss of sleep. Luckily Doctor Hausfelt, the Wolf's senior surgeon, had been in private life a woman's specialist, and owing to his skill and untiring services my wife pulled through. She lay in her berth, packed in ice, for three weeks, absolutely delirious. Owing to the experience I had undergone during the past few days my own nerves were all ragged and upset; and the continual raving and shrieking of my wife, who imagined herself undergoing the most awful torture, drove me nearly crazy. Some days and nights seemed never to come to an end. During this time, on July 17th, to be exact, Wolf captured and set on fire the American schooner Encore, Captain Oleson, bound from Columbia River to Australia with a cargo of lumber, but owing to my state of mind I remember it only as an incident; it seemed trivial to me at the time.

During all this time my wife had been gradually sinking until she had come to the place where she either had to make a turn for the better or pass into the Great Beyond.

Commander Nerger, at the doctor's request, during this crisis, gave orders that all traffic on our side of the berth deck should stop, and guards were placed at each end to see that his orders were carried out. On the night of August 2nd Doctor Hausfelt told me that, barring accident, my wife would recover. I have often wondered whether a physician realises just what it means to an anxious husband when he tells him, "The crisis is past and your wife will recover." I know they were the most welcome words I had ever heard! During all this time I never gave a thought as to where we were going or how we were going to get there. I didn't give a damn what happened, only that my wife pulled through.

However, after my wife had passed the critical point and commenced to get better, a load seemed to be lifted off my shoulders, and the mere fact of being a prisoner on board a German raider seemed of no consequence. I then commenced to take an interest in things around me. My continual silence, with nobody to talk to, and the long periods of darkness, from 7:10 P.M. to 6:30 A.M., it being winter in the South Pacific, grew very irksome. On account of the extreme heat in the cabin when the door was closed and the light on, I was unable to sit inside and read, so the only thing left was to sit outside my door on the deck and think, and God knows I didn't have many very agreeable things to think about. At this time my wife was still too weak to talk, and anyway I didn't want to get her asking questions, thinking it would only make her worry, which I knew was not good for her. My days were usually taken up in washing clothes and nursing the wife. I never knew there were so many clothes in the world, and to think that they came from one sick wife and a perfectly healthy six-year old kiddie! I, like a darn fool, kept putting on clean white frocks and all the other white fixings that go with it. When the Missis got on the job again, Miss Juanita got a pair of overalls on week days and a dress on Sundays, all this going to prove that as a nurse maid I was a fizzle. I came a Steve Brodie on the wife's hair also, letting it get into such a mess that I couldn't comb the rats' nests out of it and had to cut the whole business off short. However, this didn't make much difference, as it all came out itself anyway.

At all times on the Wolf the fresh water situation was of great importance, as we were on a strict allowance of drinking water, which they condensed and purified themselves. We were also allowed a minute quantity of semi-condensed water for washing purposes. I used to save up for several days and get enough for a bath, all of us using the same water. After bathing, this water was used to wash clothes in. On other mornings we had to be content with a salt water bath, which is very refreshing but has little cleansing quality. Every effort was made to catch all the rain water possible, and then everybody had the big wash. During a heavy rain it was customary for all hands to strip and stand out in the rain and have a good rain water bath. It was quite odd to see from one hundred and fifty to three hundred men taking their bath in this manner. It makes one think of the Garden of Eden before Eve showed on the job.

I used to look forward to the evening when the prize officer, Lieutenant Zelasko, used to come to my quarters and talk for half an hour. His talk usually was of the war, and it was interesting to get the German view of it. Of course, from their viewpoint "poor Germany" was the defendant, and they figure they are fighting to protect their homes and not in a war of conquest.

Many of the crew of the Wolf had seen service on the various fronts and in Belgium and had some very interesting experiences to tell. These stories were always from the German viewpoint. One chap in particular had a unique and unenviable experience, having been wounded in six places at six different times. He was shot once through the shoulder on the Russian front. On two occasions, while on service in France, he was shot, once through the arm and on another occasion through the leg. At the storming of Antwerp he was wounded on the head by a flying piece of shell, and later on, while trying to storm a bridge, he was bayoneted. While serving as a member of the prize crew on the S.S. Melunga, after her capture by the Wolf, he lost an eye, while knocking off the head of a beer bottle, a piece of the glass striking him in the eye. The bottle of beer was "Gambe Carlsburger," a Danish beer, and as this accident happened on an Australian steamer in the Indian Ocean, I don't know just exactly who should get the credit for this, although I think that Denmark should be credited with an asset.