Tricked By The Germans

How the “Nurnburg'S"

Landing Party Silenced Fanning Island Cable Station in 1914

By Erle Wilson

“QAIL ho!”

At 10 a.m. on a morning in Septem ber, 1914, the cry that has electrified so many iso.ated Islands communities rang out at Napari on Fanning Island, bring ing the staff off duty at the Pacific Cable Station hurrying to the seaward verandahs and various vantage points with anticipa tion in their eyes ancf binoculars in their hands.

It was a halcyon day. The sea, sparkl ing beneath the breath of the trade that thrummed among the leaning palms, stretched away to a scarcely perceptible meeting with a limpid sky. Not a cloud was to be seen. At one point only, low down, the pure curve of the horizon was broken by a dark, unmistakable smudge.

Speculation was rife among the watchers on shore. What ship was it? There was

none due. Was she heading for Fanning, or merely passing away out there? Where, normally, contact with the outer world was made only at intervals of months the coming of any vessel never failed to mark a red letter day. Only those who have actually watched a distant “sail” under similar circumstances will understand the hopes that the sight awakened.

But, here and there among the watch ers were those who, mindful of the terrific struggle so newly raging in Europe and realizing Fanning Island’s importance in the chain of Empire communications, watched the distant vessel with some, misgiving. The battle of the Falklands was yet almost a month off, and Von Spee’s squadron was still at large.

It was soon apparent that the vessel was heading unusually rapidly for the island; and. almost as soon, the greyhound lines of a cruiser became recognizable. Excite ment spread among the watchers on shore.

Eyes giuei to binoculars searched for in dications of her nationality. She did not look British. Was she French?

Japanese? . . . German? . . .

Anxiously the cable superintendent. Mr.

A. Smith, looked for her colours. In the office, a few yards away, a pre-arranged code signal was waiting to be flashed to the two connecting stations —Suva (Fiji) and Bamfield (British Columbia) —should an enemy approach Ah! —There they were at last! . . .

The tricolour! . . . She’s French!

Greatly relieved, as the cruiser slowed down at the anchorage and put a boa! over the side, Mr. Smith hurried away to warn his wife to arrange a suitable recep tion for the French officers. Soon the who’.e staff, excepting those on duty, were gathered expectantly on the wharf. The Fanning Island Cable Station had a re putation for hospitality: this visit of an allied cruiser with the war scarcely a month old would be an occasion indeed!

Expense no object! Vive la France!

As a smart cutter put off from the cruiser, sun-burned men in shorts and singlets waiting on the wharf cast their minds back over varying periods of years to past school days in an effort to recol lect scraps of French once so painfully acquired. Somehow, “the book of my aunt,” “the pen of Charles.” “the hat of Robert,” even the fact that “the table is in the room” did not seem of much use for this occasion. Of course, if something, say a bottle or two. should be on that table! —But yes. this was an occasion!

“Hands Up!”

The command came as a bombshell to the waiting cable men, as the 'wicked muzzle of a machine-gun appeared sud denly over the cutter’s gunwale.

Germans! —Tricked completely! And the office unprepared!

Curiously enough none on shore had noticed that the uniform bonnets in the approaching boat did not bear the dis tinctive red “pom-pom” of the French sailor.

Briefly the officer in charge of the land ing party informed the superintendent that they were from His Imperial Germanic Majesty’s cruiser Nurnhurg and that th*> cable staff would not be harmed, so long

as they did not attempt any resistance.

Quickly they marched to the office where the staff on duty, still unaware of their visitors’ nationality, continued handling the unusual volume of work which had re sulted from the outbreak of war.

“Hands up!"

The English-speaking officer in command rapped out the order. Several of the busy operators grinned. It was a good joke; they kept on with their work.

“HANDS UP!” Again came the order in a more peremptory tone. The grins wavered.

"FOR . . . THE . . . THIRD . . . AND . . . LAST . . . TIME:

Hands Up!*'

There was no mistaking the deadly seri ousness of the deliberate warning.

An operator, realizing the true situation at last, had begun to send the pre-arrang ed warning signal to Suva when another of the staff —probably thereby saving his life—knocked him off his chair.

The invaders then took charge, and the wrecking of the station began. Efficiently wielded axes made short work of “siphon recorders” and other delicate instruments.

A number of sailors entered the battery room and began pushing over the batteries with their bare hands until biting acid made them retreat and finish the work from outside with long bamboo poles. That burning acid was the means of saving the “artificial line” (in a small room off the battery-room) from destruction. A for tunate circumstance: for, had it been des troyed it could not have been replaced until after the war. and the station must have remained idle in consequence.

The engine-room and freezer next re ceived the attention of the enemy. But. before wrecking them with dynamite, the wives and children of the staff were sent away. Out of consideration for their safety it appeared afterwards, but the ex plosions that presently wrecked the en gine and freezing plants caused great ap prehension to some of the women as they waited by the still, sunlit lagoon with de tails of German “atrocities” in France and Belgium fresh in their minds.

Their fears were groundless. None had been butchered. Instead, the German officer was asking whether he could buy some fowls for the officers’ mess aboard.

He was "profusely apologetic when it was explained that in dynamiting the freezer he had destroyed practically all the fresh

stores on the island. He protested that he had mistaken the plant for a wireless station.

Finally all papers were taken from the safe in the superintendent’s office, and then the cables were cut —in shallow water, as the German commander feared to delay too long. After expressing regret at having had to carry out such an unpleasant duty and admitting that they fully expected eventually to be sunk but that they would go down fighting, the landing party re turned to the Nurnhurg.

From the wharf, the superintendent and executive officers of the cable staff watched impatiently for the heaving of the anchor.

The cruiser once safely gone, no time would be lost in repairing the damage done and restoring communications with Suva and Bamfield by means of spare instru ments from a secret cache. Alas, for their hopes! In less than half-an-hour the Germans had returned, having found de tails of the cache and a conveniently clear plan of its location among the papers taken from the superintendent’s safe, where it had been put for safety!

After having unearthed and smashed the instruments and taken away £7OO in gold, buried in the same place, the Germans again embarked and, shortly afterwards, weighed anchor and headed at high speed from the island.

To the cable technical staff on shore fell the unenviable task of clearing up the mess and re-establishing communications.

With the assistance of Mr. Hugh Greig, who, by persistent diving, recovered the severed ends of the cables, they were able within a fortnight to speak again to the distant stations.

Three months later—on December 8, 1914—the German officer’s prophesy as to his ultimate fate was fulfilled in every particular; the Nurnhurg went down fighting gamely to the end, under the guns of Rear-Admiral Sturdee’s fleet at the battle of the Falklands.