On the way to the Shetlands we fell in with two American destroyers, the Smith and the Warrington, who dropped 22 depth bombs on us. We were submerged to a depth of 60 meters and weathered the storm, although five bombs were very close and shook us up considerably. The information I had been able to collect was, I considered, of enough importance to warrant my trying to escape. Accordingly in Danish waters I attempted to jump from the deck of the submarine, but was caught and ordered below.
The German Navy authorities took me from Wilhelmshaven to Karlsruhe, where I was turned over to the army. Here I met officers of all the Allied armies, and with them I attempted several escapes, all of which were unsuccessful. After three weeks at Karlsruhe I was sent to the American and Russian officers' camp at Villingen. On the way I attempted to escape from the train by jumping out of the window. With the train making about 40 miles an hour, I landed on the opposite railroad track and was so severely wounded by the fall that I could not get away from my guard. They followed me, firing continuously. When they recaptured me they struck me on the head and body with their guns until one broke his rifle. It snapped in two at the small of the stock as he struck me with the butt on the back of the head.
I was given two weeks solitary confinement, for this attempt to escape, but continued trying, for I was determined to get my information back to the Navy. Finally, on the night of October 6, assisted by several American Army officers, I was able to effect an escape by short-circuiting all lighting circuits in the prison camp and cutting through barbed-wire fences surrounding the camp. This had to be done in the face of a heavy rifle fire from the guards. But it was difficult for them to see in the darkness, so I escaped unscathed.
In company with an American officer in the French Army, I made my way for seven days and nights over mountains to the Rhine, which to the south of Baden forms the boundary between Germany and Switzerland. After a four-hour crawl on hands and knees I was able to elude the sentries along the Rhine. Plunging in, I made for the Swiss shore. After being carried several miles down the stream, being frequently submerged by the rapid current, I finally reached the opposite shore and gave myself up to the Swiss gendarmes, who turned me over to the American legation at Berne. From there I made my way to Paris and then London and finally Washington, where I arrived four weeks after my escape from Germany.
It was my pleasure to greet Lieutenant Isaacs on his return, congratulate him on his escape, and commend him for the heroic courage and enterprise he had displayed under such trying circumstances.
The Covington (Captain R. D. Hasbrouck) was torpedoed July 1st at 9:15 p. m., the torpedo smashing a hole in the vessel's side and throwing into the air a column of water higher than the smokestacks. Engine and fire rooms quickly filled, the ship lost headway rapidly and in fifteen minutes lay dead in the water.
Listing heavily to port, it was feared the vessel might take a lurch and sink suddenly. Twenty-one boats were lowered, three had been smashed by the explosion. "Abandon ship," was ordered. The bugle sounded "Silence," and silently the men went down the Jacob's ladders as if they were at drill. The destroyer Smith stood close by, taking the men from the boats. Thirty officers and men remained aboard with the Captain until an hour after the torpedo struck.
Hoping to save the transport, a salvage party was organized, to go on board as soon as the men could be collected from rafts and boats. The little Smith, which in addition to its own crew of one hundred, had aboard 800 of the Covington's officers and men, encircled the transport to keep off the submarine and prevent it from firing another torpedo.
Another destroyer, the Reade, came to the rescue; at 4:20 a. m. the British salvage tugs, Revenger and Woonda arrived, and at 5:30 o'clock the American tug Concord reached the scene. The Smith, which was ordered to take to port all the crew not needed, at 5:20 left for Brest. By 6 o'clock the three tugs had the Covington in tow, and were making from five to six knots through the water. Two more destroyers joined shortly after to guard the crippled ship from attack. She was then listed about twenty degrees to port, and about noon took a quick list of ten degrees more.
By 1:30 p. m. she had heeled to an angle of 45 degrees. Sensing sinking conditions, the working party was directed to leave the ship, the Nicholson taking them off. At 2:30 the Covington began to sink rapidly by the stern and disappeared two minutes later. The ship went down with her colors flying.