by Erich Topp
Afterwards the guards present arms, the officers leave the church, the companies take up their formations. The commandant, the major, and a few veteran officers inspect the assembled troops. Then the commandant steps up to the decorated rostrum. He reminds everyone of the significance of this day and stresses the obligation we assume in memory of the dead, of their commitment, and of the sacrifice they made for our nation. We shout a triple "Hurrah" for the Fuhrer and for our patron, the venerable Field Marshal von Hindenburg. The ceremonies conclude with the singing of the national anthem and the Horst-Wessel Song.
NAUTICAL TRAINING ON THE GORCH FOCK
Diary:
June 14 to September 26, 1934
I am once again in Kiel. We march around the bend of the inner harbor. On the left we are greeted by the castle, and a few steps later we behold for a brief moment the mast tops of the Gorch Fock. We respond with a sudden motion in our ranks, as everyone wants to he the first to get a glimpse of the Navy's most beautiful vessel. We pass my alma mater where I had been a student for a short while and go along the Dusternbrookerweg, the latter unexpectedly splendid in the foliage of early summer. Next comes the building of the Naval High Command, as massive and mysterious as always, followed by my fraternity house, once the scene of a merry student life but today stripped and empty. Then we turn left onto the shoreline drive of the Hindenburg-Ufer where on Sundays I had taken many a walk. At last we reach the pier of the Blucherbrucke and the Gorch Fock, whose snow-white hull rises up from the grayish water, her masts pointing straight into the blue afternoon sky.
Once on board, we are divided up into groups and assigned to our corporals without regard to the bonds that have grown among comrades during basic training. And then the circus starts in earnest. We receive our hammocks and try to sling them. How in the world are we to know what a Schlippsteg is (sailor's knot), or that a hammock has two ends instead of one? We have no idea where to get gear to clean ship (in the Rurnpelkarnmer, of course), what a Versaufloch is (a spillway allowing water to run off from the upper deck), or where to find the various Hellegats (storage areas below deck). We have to ask the old hands what the Barring might be, a Kuttenlecker (cleaning brush), or a Schlagputz (bucket made from canvas). Several times we simply run into each other or trip over all kinds of unexpected obstacles. With awe we glance up into the maze of masts and yards, already imagining ourselves climbing all over. Certainly we won't have to wait much longer.
There are no bunks on board. Sleeping in a hammock requires some practice. One side may be too loose, so that the whole thing hangs through and you have to wriggle like a worm to find a comfortable position. Despite all these challenges we slept perfectly that first night. The next morning we were not a little astonished when the chief boatswain's mate announced that the ship was in terrible shape and a thorough cleaning was called for to erase all vestiges of our past as landlubbers.
Cleaning ship is different from the corresponding procedure ashore. First you take off your shoes and socks. Then the deck is inundated until the water reaches your ankles. You hold your broom in a very special grip and turn it around 180 degrees when you hear the command, "Achtung Null. " We save a lot of soap by using sand to scrub the deck. The superstructure is to be cleaned with fresh water only, and never, ever, smear paint around when you are polishing brass!
At this point I must add a comment. A comrade of mine hated cleaning ship so much that he allowed his frustration to inform the entries in his official diary:
Easter Sunday: Clean ship, two eggs.
Easter Monday: Clean ship, one egg.
Easter Tuesday: Clean ship, not even one egg.
For this he was punished by having to climb several times all over the ship's masts, yards, and rigging.
At noon our commanding officer, Captain Raul Mewis, spoke to us. This is the gist of his remarks: Our posting to the Gorch Fock means the beginning of our nautical training and thus of our chosen profession. The transition may not be easy, but we will get used to it. Often times will be tough, but we must give our best and endure. Certainly we know other men who have suffered through it all before and can guide us in doing the right thing. German history is full of magnificent deeds from which we can draw the necessary enthusiasm, inspiration, and strength for our task. Above all, we should remember the man for whom our ship is named. He did not rest until he had fulfilled his dearest dream, namely, to join the Navy. He later paid with his life for his undying desire to serve his people and his fatherland. Our motto for the weeks ahead will be: Eyes open, mouth shut, and hard work. Eyes open to get to know our job; mouth shut to learn how to obey and to work. Our true motto was: "One hand for the ship, one hand for yourself," in order to survive.
June 17, 1934
This afternoon [the former Free Corps leader and governor of Bavaria] General Ritter von Epp visits the ship. His picture had decorated the walls of my room when I was a boy. After a brief tour of the vessel the governor addressed the crew with these appropriate remarks: At least 50 percent of all young men in Germany yearn to go to sea. We are privileged to serve aboard a sailing vessel that represents in itself the basis of a mariner's profession and extends highest challenges to each and every one of us. From his own personal and military background he urges us to work hard from the beginning, to take advantage of all opportunities to learn, because the acquisition of knowledge and skills is the key to future careers. A man can only get as far as his will is prepared to take him.
The same holds true for the nation: The greatness of a nation depends on its will to achieve. For fifteen years the German nation had forgotten this crucial maxim, had chosen to be small. That has now changed for good. But to raise the nation again to its former stature it is absolutely imperative that everyone subscribe to this principle. We, our generation, have taken up the challenge. Another irrefutable truth is that the fate of an individual is determined by his community. Our ship provides a particularly solid education on the basis of both those principles.
June 18, 1934
The sound of gunfire and a plume of smoke over the [ancient pre-dreadnought] Schleswig-Holstein make us look up from our chores. There is no time to think; more shots are fired, and we come to attention, face to starboard. Again and again guns are fired in salute. We learn that the Chief of the Naval Command is paying a visit to the [light cruiser] Leipzig. A short while later the (light cruiser] Karlsruhe hoists the flag of the Reich Minister of Defense and joins in the firing of salute.
Firing salute is an ancient custom among seafaring nations. It goes back to the times of the muzzle-loaders. In those days a man-of-war was allowed to enter a foreign port only after having fired all its guns to show it had no hostile intentions. Likewise, piping the side for a visiting officer and receiving him with the proper number of honor guards at the gangway has a long tradition. In the old days visitors were heaved aboard in large baskets. Since men tend to gain a little weight as they grow older, it was not uncommon that, say, an admiral required more attendants in that particular procedure than a young lieutenant. Thus, many seemingly nonsensical and ridiculous customs, today merely observed pro forma, are based on valid historical precedents. If one is familiar with such historical developments, one appreciates what for others remains unintelligible. Tradition acts as a firm link between us and our forebears.
June 26, 1934
An address by the commanding officer: Today everywhere in Germany flags are flying at half-mast and half-staff. Fifteen years ago the delegates Dr. Muller and Dr. Bell signed the Treaty of Versailles. This treaty did not issue from genuine negotiations for peace but was a diktat based on intransigence and hatred. At its core is Article 231, which assigns the war guilt to Germany. This lie about the war guilt is the legal basis for all other articles and is reflected in the incredible burdens Germany has to bear: the payment of reparations, the loss of our colonies, the restrictions on our military establishment, and last but not least the hu miliation we all feel. [Comment: Germany was suppo
sed to pay reparations until 1988, the very year I am writing this book.]
The great campaign against the diktat of Versailles began with the National Socialist movement. A first success was the discontinuation of the reparation payments. Next will come the enlargement of the military. Nothing demonstrates more firmly Germany's desire to restore her national honor than her withdrawal from the League of Nations, that guardian over Versailles, on November 12, 1933. But our moral rehabilitation is not yet complete. Nobody should rest until our honor and respectability are fully restored. We vow to make this our life's goal. To underline our determination we join in a triple hurrah for our fatherland.
June 30, 1934
At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, against all normal routine, both watches are instructed to stand by on the upper deck. The commanding officer announces an order by the Reich Minister of Defense: An increased state of alert because of domestic political difficulties.
After we are dismissed, our first reaction is that we will be deprived of liberty ashore today. We assemble in groups, some large, some small, and speculate wildly about what kind of political tensions might have arisen. One comrade suggests that the whole thing is just a smokescreen for a foreign crisis. Another mentions a possible rebellion by the SA [Stormtroopers] against the Army, while yet a third hints that the government may have run out of money. No one had any idea what had really happened. We were astounded to learn that the SA Chief of Staff, Ernst Rohm, along with several other SA leaders, had been arrested and shot because of rebellious and treasonable activities. Soon, news of the events reaches us more rapidly and in greater detail. The Fuhrer himself had supervised the arrests after SA leader August Schneidhuber proclaimed that the Fuhrer and the Army were out to get the SA. Police president Viktor Lutze has taken over as Chief of Staff. His appointment is part of far-reaching reforms inside the SA and a redefinition of its role, especially a return to Spartan simplicity of purpose, blind obedience, strictest discipline, and moral character. We all feel relieved because the SA had departed from the path that had made it great, had been led astray by less admirable elements in its leadership, either through neglect or deliberate lapses.
Comment:
In such and similar ways we experienced the situation on the Gorch Fock. The state-controlled media of the press and radio, but also the officer corps itself, silenced any criticism from the start.
The leadership of the German Army, itself implicated by supplying arms to the Schutzstaffel (SS) for its purge of the SA, welcomed the action as a strengthening of its own power base. It even accepted the fact that two recently retired and entirely uninvolved officers, Generals Kurt von Schleicher and Kurt von Bredow, were liquidated in the course of the affair. Their SS murderers were never brought to justice. When the Schlief- fen Society issued a feeble "Declaration of Honor," all criticism among soldiers ceased. Inasmuch as we never learned all the facts about the Rohm Affair, we did not develop reservations about its legality. Besides, we held a strong conviction that the state was ultimately responsible for dealing with matters of law, of right and wrong.
In retrospect, today we are appalled that the Reichswehr leaders chose to do nothing even though they knew full well the details of this night of murder and that dozens of people had been killed in cold blood without the benefit of a trial. By taking no action, the officer corps violated the moral principles of its upbringing and its traditional dedication to a state based on law and order. Only a few realized that the Nazi regime had dropped its mask. But even they remained essentially silent until mid1941 when Hitler's Commissar Order and restrictions regarding the Army's jurisdiction in the theater of operations revealed for everyone the regime's criminal character. At that point one member of the German resistance, Henning von Tresckow, wrote these prophetic words: "With these actions the German people assumes a measure of guilt that the world will not forgive us in a hundred years."
Diary:
July 13, 1934
As part of the second division of the starboard watch it is our responsibility to work the capstan. We sing the time-honored tune of "Lampenputzer ist mein Vater" as we slowly bring the anchor up. Each turn of the capstan is the equivalent of 40 centimeters of chain cable. One hundred meters of cable thus mean 250 turns altogether-hard work and lots of sweat indeed. The rhythm of the music helps. But even better is the incentive provided by several young ladies, all of them student sailors of the local yacht school, who circle our ship in their small boats and cast curious glances in our direction.
July 15, 1934
At noon we enjoy a well-earned hour of rest. Who cares about the sea and the weather? We know the boatswain's mate watches out for us. Today the 'tweendeck seems darker than usual, but we hardly pay any attention. Then, without warning, the alarm whistle chases us to the upper deck. The spars and masts creak under the pressure of a sudden storm gust. It begins to rain. "Furl all sails!" The Fehmarnbelt ja strait between Germany and Denmark where the bark Niobe went down under similar circumstances two years before with heavy loss of life] is not far away. We climb up the rat-lines as fast as we can. The storm drives raindrops straight into our faces. "Lay out!" It's not raining any more; it's pouring. We can barely make out the deck below. It seems the storm wants to push us right off the snatch-locks that we need for balance. With great difficulty we haul in the sails-heavy, wet, stiff, and hard to handle as they are. Finally they are properly secured, the ship is safely at anchor, and we stand raindrenched on deck. Then the squall has passed, we weigh anchor, set sail again, and the sun laughs from the sky as if to make fun of us.
July 18, 1934
Not every day is a day of sunshine. Sometimes the sun seems to set on you, especially if nothing you try with best intentions wants to go right. This brings on despair and depression, as you contrast your restless life on hoard with that of others whose daily challenges appear trivial in comparison. You may even be tempted to ask: "What's the use of doing all this?"
Those are dangerous hours, but they can also be a blessing in disguise. They can teach you to regain your proper balance, to carry out your inner struggles like a man.
Comment:
The words of the diary hint at how terribly the petty officers treated us. This is something no longer comprehensible from today's perspective.
Because of my build I was slower than my comrades. I got stuck in the rat-lines and often reached my work station later than the others. As a consequence I became a virtually permanent member of the infamous "Climbing Club." After hours, usually in darkness, we had to assemble on deck and then were chased up the rat-lines, all the way to the top yard. We might have endured these procedures stoically had the petty officers not added extra chicaneries. Most notable was the obligation to carry along our hammock, almost the size of a grown man and quite heavy, draped over our left arm. We had to drag it along wherever we climbed as we carried out our acrobatic act on the top yards. The petty officers below, to keep track of us aloft, strapped oil lanterns to our backs. Our ordeal became particularly hairy when, handicapped by our hammocks, we reached platforms at the juncture of masts and yards that could be circumnavigated only by leaning dangerously backward. Needless to say, the whole exercise was life-threatening. To this day I cannot understand why the officers tolerated such actions.
Diary:
July 20, 1934
An excursion to the Marienburg [East Prussia]. Through a high gateway we step into the outer court of the castle once built by the Teutonic Knights. Everyone is silent. We sense the historical significance of the state the Teutonic Knights ran here so many centuries ago and its underlying ideas, now forever cast in stone. What an attitude that created this state and its gothic architecture!
We proceed to the Westpreusseukreuz ]where the borders of Germany, Danzig, and Poland converged]. One has to have seen the inscription "Trait a de Versailles" in order to realize the influence the former French government had in creating these borders. One has to have experienced with one's own eyes how unn
atural the lines are: how everywhere they reflect military considerations; how they violate the right to self-determination; how they run straight through German farms and estates, rendering them economically difficult to operate; how, for instance, villages and towns are cut off from their train stations, their only way of reaching the outside world; how the borders discourage and depress the local population; and how, in the end, the seeds are planted here for a renewed confrontation in the future. We see the consequences of "solving" the question of access to the Vistula River: a narrow strip, 4 meters wide. No wonder the levees are in disrepair, the river is silting up.
Tannenberg-the stone embankments and towers of the memorial [where Hindenburg defeated two invading Russian armies in 1914] project into the July sky under the black clouds of a gathering thunderstorm.