MY WAR RUSE

HOW sad and desolate it now looked in my little house!

Immediately at the beginning of the siege, my good Patzig was obliged to leave me and to rejoin his 21-centimetre Battery-commander. He had only luxuriated for four weeks in the possession of our beautiful little home, and now he sat in his redoubt and fulfilled his duty until he had fired his last shell and the Japanese, with their heavy howitzers, had levelled to the ground the whole of his battery.

As soon as the first shot was fired, my Chinese cook, Moritz, faithlessly left me in the lurch, and one evening I found that also Fritz, Max and August had vanished without trace.

After a few days a new Chinese cook—Wilhelm—appeared on the scene, and recounted with emphatic gestures:

“Kind Master, me plenty good cook; me no lun away like bad fellow Molitz; me havee no fear; me makee plenty good chau-chau.”

I believed him, promised to give him five dollars and more. Things went fairly well, until one day the first enemy shells burst close to my house, and Herr Wilhelm as promptly disappeared as his predecessors.

I now sat alone in my deserted home with my faithful batman, Dorsch. We were the only inhabitants of the whole villa quarter of Iltis Bay.

Not exactly a safe or pleasant spot, for the villas were built on the hill which carried our chief batteries, and the enemy shells which whizzed past them landed straight in our midst. But we were very cautious. That is to say, we left our top floor and settled down comfortably and safely on the ground floor. As a further precaution we placed our beds in a corner, in such a way that they were far from a window, and thus we secured sufficient immunity. It was, however, lucky that no heavy shell challenged this position.

But I did not remain for long in sole control of the air.

On the forenoon of the 5th of September, under an overcast sky, with low-hanging clouds, we suddenly heard the purring of a motor, and I ran home to see what had happened. I was hardly there when an immense biplane shot into sight close over our heads. I was speechless, and peered dazedly at the apparition. Soon, however, the first explosions rent the air, and I now perceived the round red balls under the planes.

It was a Jap!

I must say that I felt rather queer on beholding my huge enemy colleague floating so near us in the sky. A bright outlook for the future!

Kiao-Chow regarded the advent of the enemy airman as a most disagreeable surprise, for no one had expected that the Japs would be equipped with aircraft.

On the whole, they eventually produced eight aeroplanes, amongst them four gigantic seaplanes, for whose possession I heartily envied the Japs. How often in the ensuing weeks did I gaze longingly at them, as they circled round the town, and wish for one!

The Japs flew well and with extraordinary pluck. It is lucky, however, that their bomb-dropping was not on a par with it, otherwise it would have been a bad look out for us. The Japanese bombs were heavy, of recent construction, and most destructive.

The enemy seaplanes also had a tremendous advantage over us. They were able to take off at a great distance, without consideration of the wind, with as much space for turning out as they could wish for; and when they had ascended with the greatest security to the altitude of 3000 metres they swooped down upon us, and simply jeered at our shrapnels and machine-guns.

One of the chief aims of the enemy was to destroy my hangar. Soon matters became so unpleasant for my aerodrome that one fine day I decided that it was time to stop my enemy colleagues’ little game.

My real shed lay at the northern end of the ground; it made a splendid target, and the Japanese knew its location by heart. I now built unobtrusively a new shed on the opposite side, close to a mountain slope, covering it with clods of earth and grass, so that nothing of it could be noticed from above. We then proceeded with deep cunning and malice to the erection of a bogus aeroplane, with the help of planks, sailing canvas and tin. From above it looked exactly like my Taube. And after that, the moment an enemy aviator was in sight, we played a little comedy.

On some days the doors of my old shed were wide open, and my imitation Taube sprawled in front of it on the beautiful green grass. On others the shed was closed and nothing to be seen. Another day my sham machine sat in a different place, where it could be spotted at once. Now the enemy aviators arrived and dropped bombs and bombs in their endeavours to hit the innocent bird. Whilst this was going on we sat in the real aeroplane, well protected by our roof, holding our sides with laughter as we saw the bombs seeking their bogus victim.

Once when we had been specially deluged with them, I picked out a fine splinter from a Japanese aviation bomb, affixed my visiting card to it and wrote:

“Kindest greetings to the enemy colleagues! Why do you shy at us with such hard objects? If you aren’t careful you will end by hurting us! It isn’t done.”

I took this letter on my next flight and dropped it in front of the Japanese seaplane station.

But this was only to announce my visit.

In the meantime one of our men had been preparing bombs for me. Simply marvellous specimens! Huge tin boxes of 4 lb. each, on which could be read in big letters: “Sietas, Plambeck & Co., best Java coffee.” They were filled with dynamite, horseshoe nails and scrap iron, a lead spar fixed to the bottom and a fuse at the top. It was exploded by a sharp iron point which hit the percussion-cap of a cartridge. All these things seemed pretty uncanny to me, and I handled them with the greatest caution—always happy when I had done with them. But they never caused much damage. Once I hit a torpedo boat, and even then it did not explode; on several occasions I just missed a convoy. And once I learned through Japanese reports that I had dropped a bomb into the midst of a Japanese marching column and sent thirty yellow ones to the nether regions!

I soon got over the first pleasant emotion of bombing. My time was fully occupied apart from it, and the results did not justify the time I lost.

I often met my enemy colleagues in the air. I did not hanker for these meetings, for I could do little with my slow, laboriously climbing Taube against the huge biplanes which carried a crew of three men. Above all, I dared not forget that my chief object was reconnoitring, and after that to bring back my machine to Kiao-Chow in good condition.

Once I was busily engaged on my observations, when my aeroplane began to pitch and toss. I thought this was due to bumps in the air, caused by the many steep and rugged mountains of this country which made flying extraordinarily difficult. Without even looking up, I went on taking observations, only grasping the control-lever with one hand in order to keep the aeroplane steady.

After my return I was informed, to my great surprise, that an enemy plane had flown so closely on top of me that they thought I should be shot down.

Next time I was more careful. And on sighting one of my enemy colleagues I followed and shot him down with my Parabellum pistol, after firing thirty times.

A short time afterwards I nearly shared his fate. I was only at an altitude of 1700 metres, and in spite of the greatest efforts I could not get any higher. I was just above the enemy seaplane station as one of the great biplanes started. I now carried out my reconnaissance, thinking to myself: “Well, he can bestir himself until he gets up as high as I!”

But after forty minutes, when I looked on my left over the plane, I saw the enemy already gaining on me at a distance of only a few thousand metres. This meant to be on guard and climb higher. But my Taube simply refused to budge, and I could not gain another yard. A quarter of an hour only elapsed before the other chap had outdistanced me, and was coming diagonally across my trail, trying to cut me off from the road to Kiao-Chow.

It was now a matter for betting who would first reach Kiao-Chow, but I won the race. When I returned to my aerodrome I simply dived down, and no sooner did I reach the ground than bombs were bursting all around us.

It is extraordinary how they sometimes find their mark!

Strict orders had been given at Kiao-Chow that everybody should make for cover as soon as an enemy airman was sighted. We had only two casualties—a non-commissioned officer and a Chinese. And that was quite marvellous enough. On my aerodrome I had about one hundred coolies, and they always sped to safety. One day, however, a native remained standing in the middle of the ground, all on his lonesome, staring at the large bird. Bang! A bomb hurtled through the air and exploded but a few paces away. The poor devil was badly hit. To have really bad luck there is no easier way than to be on the spot where shells and other heavy missiles are flying about.