This is the dramatic story of the four American surgeons, starved in German prisons, whose demand for release by President Wilson nearly resulted in a declaration of war against Germany. Few more dramatic tales have been brought forth than the story of adventure, hardship and peril at sea, short commons on land and the new danger from the sky which was related by four American professional men. Snapped up by the German raider in mid-ocean, they cruised around for days while the commerce destroyer was gathering in further prizes. Then they made the voyage in the Yarrowdale to Swinemunde, under such conditions that they expected the ship's seams to open and the vessel to sink beneath them at any moment. They lived for more than two months in prison camps in Germany, on the meagre prison fare provided by the German government. This is the record of how the Americans of the Yarrowdale, by enduring hunger, deprivation, cold, despair, and days of pitiless imprisonment, wrote their names in the annals of the United States. It is romantic, for the elements of daring naval adventure and of international diplomacy are present. Ambassador Gerard, after several communications to the Wilhelmstrasse, which were more than energetic, was promised the release of the Americans, and the threatened declaration of war on this issue was averted. Dr. McKim, an American veterinarian, was aboard the White Star liner Georgic, in charge of twelve hundred horses for the Allies, when she was sunk by the German raider Moewe during its romantic exploits. He was taken to Germany, with the other prisoners, on the Yarrowdale. Dr. Snyder was captured aboard the British steamship Voltaire, the first vessel to be captured by the raider, while he was returning to America from France. Mr. Zabriskie was the veterinarian on the steamship Mount Temple, a Canadian horse transport, which lost three men from shell fire. Dr. Davis and Dr. McKim were on the White Star liner Georgic, the most important bag of the German raider. Dr. McKim was the first of the Americans to return and related his experiences in the New York World—Copyright 1917 by the John N. Wheeler Syndicate. A few episodes from his adventures are now retold.
I—"MY FIRST NIGHT ON GERMAN RAIDER"
The first night on board the German raider which had sunk the Georgic (when we were hurled into a sea alive with swimming, drowning horses) was hell. That is the only way to describe it, if you will pardon the expression. At 9 o'clock all lights were put out. Even the tiny bulb that illuminated the compass on the navigating bridge was shielded and not so much as a match was allowed to be struck on the decks.
We were shut up in the forecastle, and we either had to go to bed or sit around in the dark. The ship rolled heavily and the propellers raced and pounded as her stern occasionally lifted out of the water because of the high speed at which she was constantly pushed. Nobody knew where we were nor where we were going.
With the others, I lay down on a hard, thin mattress, stuffed with excelsior, in the middle of the floor, and envied the men who had bunks or hammocks. Each of us had a shoddy blanket which was as damp as it was dirty and smelly. My bones ached from the cold when at last what seemed an endless night was over.
A sailor who had been detailed as a steward for us brought a mixture masquerading under the name of coffee and more of the black bread and beet jam. There seemed to be no end of bread, and Dr. Snider, who had been surgeon on the Voltaire, ate chunk after chunk of it.
"How can you swallow all that stuff?" I asked him.
"When you've been on this d—— ship as long as I have, you'll know," he said. And before I got out of Germany I did.
I had no sooner eaten a few scraps of breakfast than the coffee nauseated me as it had the night before, and my frugal meal and I promptly parted company. As I returned to the quarters where the other men were I started to "beef" about my troubles. Immediately they all broke into song. The tune was that of the hymn, "Holy, Holy, Holy," and the words were: