Two Cruisers, two Chrismases
Christmas 1914 is famous for its Christmas truce on the Western Front but if you head south, as south as you can go, there was a German cruiser, SMS Dresden, hiding in the myriad of islands of Tierra del Fuego and being hunted by British warships.
The Dresden was the only ship to survive the Battle of the Falklands on the 8 December and Kapitan Ludecke was trying to figure out what the best course of action was open to him and also to try and muster supplies of coal, food and supplies. One of the Danish crewmen aboard would later write his memoirs of his time aboard and this was his description of Christmas 1914.
(It is google translated from the original Danish but I’ve tried to edit it to make some sort of sense in places…)
In Hewett Bay we celebrated Christmas Eve a good time of the week after we had dropped anchor. Christmas Eve rolled around but the morning was just like all the other days, besides that, there were people in the country (islands?) trying to get green branches to decorate the staff rooms and the fairs with.
The Christmas season after all, it is the southern hemisphere’s summer, and it was difficult to find something that looks like Christmas or our usual notion of a Christmas Eve. The weather was mild, almost warm, and the green deciduous trees in the country rather looked like they should be at a Midsummer party.
The wild Christmas spirit was not really with me or most of my Comrades. Here and there one was heard humming a stanza of a Christmas hymn, but it sounded so backwards, almost parodic.
We had entered a different world than the one we were used to. All connection with the real Christmas was severed, I thought.
In the afternoon we were ordered on deck and stepped in front of a small lectern that had been erected on the rampart and was adorned with the war flag. I wasn’t real
aware of what was going to happen before I saw Kapitanleutnant Wieblitz go up to the lectern with a book in hand. He took off his cap, and the officers who stood around the lectern, did the same. The long line of enlisted men took their hats in hand without command.
The Kapitanleutnant opened the book and began toread. He had a beautiful, calm and sonorous voice, without a trace of the harsh command tone, which many of the officers could not free themselves from. The words came out to every man in the great assembly, and there were then, unspeakably quiet everywhere.
“But it happened in those days that a command went out from Emperor Augustus, that the All World should be written in M and tal----------”
I bowed my head under the reading of the Christmas gospel
Majesty, alike in the churches of Southern Jutland and on the deck of an outlaw cruiser hidden in foreign bays. Large tears ran down my cheeks, and thoughts struggled, confused by distance and hopelessness, towards those at home. I saw none of the others, only heard the familiar words, whixh today had acquired a height and a beauty which I had never understood before.
The Kapitanleutnant concluded the Reading of the Gospel, and the band began to play one of the Christmas carols.
The officers sang along, and soon the whole ship’s crew sang along, as best they could, to the old songs words that conjured an uninterrupted series of distant memories in my mind.
After the hymn, the Kapitanleutnant gave a short Christmas sermon. He was an excellent speaker, and I never remember hearing such a beautiful Christmas sermon. He ended by saying a prayer, the last words of which still stand clear to my memory:
“Shouldn’t we be surprised to see our home and Fatherland more, so let’s anchor in the harbor, where there is eternal calm and peace. Amen!”
We sang another Christmas hymn, and with that the service was over.
The rest of the day we were left to ourselves. Most were very moved by the service, and many had moist eyes but tried to hide it, as well as they could. Sydfeld said to me as we walked together but under cover: — It was the most beautiful Christmas service I have attended.
Below deck we had decorated with green branches, N— and some others had come up with various pranks that all too quickly ruined my Christmas mood, One had, with the help of Paper decorated one of the large felt plugs, we should use to stop leaks with under Kamp, out like a giant grenade and written “42 cm” on it in memory of the great German mortars, and others had tried to make a Christmas tree, which, did not collect any special attention.
The quiet Christmas atmosphere quickly drowned in noise and jokes.
Each did his part to make the evening as unusual as possible. Nievergall appeared in his Glans number as an Ape. All of his likeness pointed in that direction under normal circumstances, but when he painted his face with coal dust and pulled the head down between the shoulders, was the likeness with a Giant Ape complete.
Others played cards, whilst others gathered and sat around the little Gittel, a cheerful Leipziger who was known for his adventurous Lies.
He sacrificed his entire repertoire for the evening’s special occasion. Rartsch was in a really bad mood for once. He walked around looking angry and muttering something about, Christmas wasn’t what it should be if you couldn’t have a proper dram.
I guess I was one of those who had the hardest time finding my way under this form of Christmas Eve. I was the youngest and had Hjemvé (homesickness?), so I could have cried loudly if I hadn’t bothered about the others. It was exactly one year after I had said goodbye to my mother and father and now we are in Hewitt Bay.
Christmas Eve came to an abrupt end. The Watch had an eye on the entrance of the fjord, and all the men crashed up on deck to see what was going on. We had been visited by a boat a couple of times before here in our safe hiding place, by a German motorboat, which reportedly came from Punta Arenas and always had provisions for us. There was only one man in it
The boat, probably a German reserve officer, who made his great contribution on the altar of the fatherland. (Alfred Pagels)
We never spoke to him, he always went straight to the officers, but we admired him from a distance for his courage and noldness. Surely he has had time and time again sailed right past the English Warships not to speak of the many small vessels whose crews were paid by the English to look for us.
However, our friend from Punta Arenas* was not there, but a foreign motor sailing boat, which quickly disappeared out of the bay again, before we had any chance of catching up with it with our boats. We stood silently by the Railing and looked for it.
No one was in doubt as to what it meant, that this stranger, the boat had had its nose inside our bay and seen the Dresden, the most talked about ship on these shores, lying there peaceful at Anchor.
— Now we are discovered, said Sydfeld, who was standing beside me, there sails a man on his way to 400 pounds sterling.
The very next day we eased anchor and left the Bay where we had celebrated our lonely Christmas. We sailed extremely slowly through narrow channels, edged by craggy mountains, past a multitude of small islands and reefs.
One of the vessels that was hunting the Dresden was the armoured cruiser HMS Kent. Her assistant surgeon, Dixon, recorded;
Thursday December 24th - Christmas Eve! Came in to port 9 a.m. and proceeded to coal from Pensilva. Did a second coaling at 150 odd tons an hour. Some fun in the ward room after dinner including Waits from the crew forward who broke down badly however.
Friday December 25th. Christmas Day. Yesterday after coaling some of us tried to get ashore to get holly for decorations. A squall was blowing and although the officers double-banked the oars with the crew of the lifeboat we could make no headway against the wind and tide and ignominiously drifted to leeward. We were seen and rescued by the Glasgow’s steam boat which towed us back.
Later on in the afternoon the CPOs got there in calmer weather and brought back a boat load of arbutus, laurel, berberis, wild fuchsia trees and plenty of flowers, lilies fuchsias and unknowns.
So this morning we had a fuchsia tree at the top of each mast. Its red flowers made it look just like holly. The crew borrowed some of the officers’ clothing and made up to represent us. They held a mock court martial which was great fun and imitated us beautifully. At 12 the Captain visited all the messes followed by the officers who had to taste the various plum uddings and other goodies. It was amazing to see what there still was in the ship in the way of extra food and how cheerful the men were in spite of no beer. In the ward room we had asked the warrant officers and the midshipmen to join us in some champagne before lunch. While there, a parcel arrived from “The Mayor of Margate” for Dunn. It contained a set of infant’s underclothing - Dunn being a bachelor.
We hung the articles along the light rail above the table and they made an interesting decoration. The clothes arrived amongst other things sent by the ladies of Kent apparently. After lunchthe crew seized on every officer and carried him round the decks behind the funny party and a “band”. Some officers went ashore in the afternoon.
The PMO being ill in bed with dysentery I stayed aboard. Very hard luck on Fleet Surgeon being ill at such a time. We did our best to cheer him up, however. After the return of the shore party laden with huge tree ferns, fucsias, etc, we had a sing song and some exellent new songs, one of which had escaped the lynx eyed censor (the parson) and was much enoyed, or atleast two verses of it “Little by little, and bit by bit”.
Our dinner in the in the evening was a triumph for the Paymaster and Cook. The decorations of ferns, fucsia and lilies and baby’s garments were really beautiful. Turtle soup, Pate de foie gras, turkey and salmon cutlets, and plenty of fizz and plum pudding. Afterwards the fun was kept up well. Jones’ song (See the Kent Kronikal) and Burn’s dancing being the features, especially the latter’s last effort in an impromptu Salome costume. The Captain was our guest for the evening. We all remarked that it was the cheeriest Christmas on a ship we could remember and felt sorry for the sad folk (probably) at home.
Saturday December 26th. Got ashore in the afternoon for a picnic, about in the afternoon for a picnic, about 15 of us. Landed in a little landlocked bay with beach and forest running down to it. Perfect summer weather, blue sky and sea and high mountains all around us. Some of us plunged at once into the Virgin Forest over tree trunks, under creepers, up trees, along the tops of undergrowth, falling into deep mossy pits every few yards, picking flowers and digging up ferns. Jones climbed a tree and tore his pants badly. After a rest in a clearing in the hill side we struggled back to the beach to find the Marine Captain boiling water and opening tins of sausages. We all bathed and it was great to feel the water again all around one at once. It was quite warm. The fried sausages, biscuits and cocoa - so good. After, we sketched, took photos and wandered. Only those who had been shut up in a ship for several months can appreciate properly how we enjoyed ourselves on shore again. The “Major” was a fine chef and contributed largely to the success of the show.
Loved this. What a contrast in the experiences of the respective crews.
Great to see the Mayor of Margate discharging their duties so efficiently too...