What are raiders in the First World War? The actions of the German passenger raider "Kronprinz Wilhelm" during the First World War. Royal Navy

An English elephant hunter tracks a German cruiser

When the First World War broke out, Germany was able to field four fast light cruisers as raiders - Emden and Dresden in the Far East, Karlsruhe (located in Havana, representing German interests in the Caribbean) and Königsberg (located in Dar es Salaam, the capital of the German colony of German East Africa), as well as four auxiliary cruisers (converted from Kronprinz Wilhelm-class passenger liners capable of twenty-five knots, faster than any major warship of the time).

Emden and Karlsruhe were especially active in the first three months of the war.

The Emden, having entered the Indian Ocean, sank sixteen merchant ships (total tonnage of more than seventy thousand tons) and two warships. Emden's artillery attacks on the ports of Madras (about five thousand tons of petroleum products were burned here), Colombo (Ceylon, at that time a British colony) and the harbor of Penang on the island of the same name in the Strait of Malacca (in the British colony on the Malay Peninsula, north-west) were defiantly daring. west of what is now Malaysia), where the Russian cruiser Zhemchug and the French destroyer came under attack.

On November 9, 1914, the Emden, during an attack on an English radio station on Direction Island (Cocos Islands), was shot by the Australian cruiser Sydney.

The cruiser Karlsruhe in the Atlantic Ocean, off the northeastern coast of South America, captured or sank sixteen merchant ships (total tonnage more than seventy-two thousand tons). The cruiser was lost as a result of a powerful explosion in the bow of the ship on November 4, 1914.

The cruiser Königsberg, operating off the eastern coast of Equatorial Africa, in mid-September 1914, heavily shelled the English port of Zanzibar, sinking the English cruiser Pegasus and several steamships stationed in the port.

Having received information that the British were gathering significant forces to search for the Koenigsberg, its commander decided to take refuge in one of the many channels in the Rufiji River delta, south of Dar es Salaam. The British guessed where the raider was hiding, but his parking place was not known exactly.

And then the English admiral took a truly extraordinary move - the famous elephant hunter Philip Jacobus Pretorius was summoned from the metropolis, who knew these places very well, the customs of the natives, and spoke the dialects of the local tribes.

Pretorius on a pirogue, posing as an aborigine, penetrated deep into the river delta and even swam close to a well-camouflaged ship, which completely blended with the tropical vegetation. Pretorius put the location of the Königsberg on the map, and only after that, on July 11, 1915, the British managed to sink the German cruiser.

The Dresden's actions were less successful - it sank four merchant ships (total tonnage about thirteen thousand tons). On March 14, 1915, the Dresden was blocked by two British cruisers in the bay of Robinson Crusoe Island (off the west coast of Chile, in the southeastern part of the Pacific Ocean) and sunk by them.

As for the large high-speed passenger ships converted into auxiliary cruisers, by the summer of 1915 they had proven their complete “unsuitability” - two of them, including the “Kronprinz Wilhelm” itself, were interned in neutral ports, the remaining two were sent by the British to bottom.

The initial successes of the raiders caused a lot of trouble for the British, who were not ready for retaliatory actions and often did not understand by what forces the damage was being done to them. But somehow significantly complicating maritime navigation on the seas and oceans, much less paralyzing it, turned out to be too much for the raiders.

In addition, since January 1915, the British Admiralty began to practice escorting merchant ships in convoys, accompanied by escort ships. An attack on such a convoy was doomed to failure.

It took the British only six months to become masters of the World Ocean. The noose of the British naval blockade began to tighten around Germany's neck.

The Kaiser greets the crew of the Wolf

At the beginning of 1916, German naval specialists began to look for a way out of this situation - it was decided that in the raider war against British shipping it was necessary to use relatively small merchant ships with sufficient autonomy and speed, placing on them large-caliber artillery and torpedo tubes and, accordingly, disguising them (passing off as ships hostile to Germany or neutral countries).

A total of five such auxiliary cruisers were sent “on the hunt.” Among the most successful, I would like to mention the auxiliary cruiser Möwe (“Seagull”).

Converted from a banana carrier, the Chaika made two military cruises, spending one hundred and eighty-six days in the Atlantic, and sank or captured thirty-nine (according to other sources, forty-six) merchant ships.

The mines laid by the Seagull killed the British battleship King Edward VII. The total tonnage of ships sunk by the Chaika was one hundred and eighty thousand tons.

The auxiliary cruiser "Wolf", converted from a bulk carrier, operated in three oceans - the Atlantic, Indian and Pacific, sank twenty-seven ships with a total displacement of one hundred and twelve thousand tons (sometimes they add eight ships sunk by mines supplied to them). The Wolf stayed on the high seas, without calling at any port, for four hundred and fifty-one days, covering sixty-four thousand miles (that is, she went “around the world” one and a half times) - an outstanding achievement for a coal ship of that time.

The merits of the Wolf crew were emphasized by the reception they received after returning to their homeland - on March 19, 1918, the Wolf crew, led by the commander, in front of a huge crowd of people, under the escort of the Imperial Guard, paraded through Unter den Linden from Brandenburg Gate to the Kaiser's palace, where he himself greeted the sailors on the steps of the main entrance.

But, perhaps, the most interesting and exciting page of the military operations of the German raiders is associated with the sailing of the sailing ship Seeadler. The Seeadler covered about thirty thousand miles in two hundred and twenty-four days in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, sank three steamships and eleven sailing ships with a total tonnage of over thirty thousand tons.

Felix Luckner is considered the last "gentleman of fortune" to sail in the age of armor, electricity and steam.

During the First World War, there were from twelve to fifteen raiders in the German fleet (even German historians are not unanimous in determining their number). The last of them operated back in February-March 1917, but without much success.

The commander of the Emden, captain 2nd rank Karl von Müller, and the commander of the Wolf, captain 2nd rank Karl August Nerger, were awarded the highest military award in Germany at that time - the Order of the Pour le Mérite. (“For merit”) - von Müller in the fall of 1918, returning to Germany from captivity, Nerger in March 1918.

Disillusioned with surface ship raiders, German strategists at the beginning of 1917 came to the conclusion that it was necessary to shift the center of gravity of the fight against British sea communications to submarines.

Germany began unrestricted submarine warfare, which, as is known, was one of the reasons for the US entry into World War I in April 1917.

Were the crews of German raiders corsairs?

Many publicists and writers often call the crews of German raiders “pirates of the Kaiser”, “corsairs”, “filibusters of the new time”, etc., that is, they resort to emotionally charged definitions that immediately refer the reader to examples of world adventurism that are well known to everyone from a young age. -adventure literature about sea robbers of the 17th–18th centuries.

As an example, I’ll cite, as they say, offhand, two books that are widely popular among the Russian-speaking audience - Igor Bunich’s “The Kaiser’s Corsairs” and Igor Mozheiko’s “Pirates, Corsairs, Raiders.”

Indeed, it is impossible not to notice the external sign of piracy in the actions of the German raiders of the First World War, namely, an armed ship attacks a merchant ship.

Here it is appropriate to quote from Bunich’s book: “Germany, as it were, compensated for the lost time when the British, Spaniards, Portuguese and French were engaged in sea robbery. In the first half of the 20th century, corsairs were almost exclusively Germans.”

I cannot but agree with another opinion of Bunich that the daring actions of the German raiders are in no way inferior to the raids of the corsairs of old times “in terms of adventure excitement.”

Just like pirates once upon a time, the crews of German light and auxiliary cruisers went to sea full of dangers and mortal risks, where luck was the reward for courage and where life was sometimes not worth even a broken pfennig, acting against many times superior British forces.

It should not be forgotten that German auxiliary cruisers, converted from commercial ships, had to show miracles of cunning and ingenuity in order to break through the multi-stage zone of the English naval blockade in the North Sea.

Overcoming vast spaces in three oceans, in different climatic zones, navigation and weather conditions, so different from each other, under the constant influence of unforgiving raging elements, often in little-explored, dangerous waters, acting against many times superior British forces, they proved themselves to be skilled sailors and brave warriors.

And it must also be said that, while sinking and capturing enemy ships, German raiders strictly adhered to the norms of international law accepted at that time, which ordered, in particular, raider commanders to take all measures to save the lives of sailors of captured or sunk ships. Captured sailors were treated humanely.

Unlike the pirates and corsairs of previous times, the teams of German raiders did not consider the property and valuables obtained during the capture of ships as personal gain; they were considered the property of the German state.

It is a known fact that when the auxiliary cruiser Wolf returned to her home port, the financial authorities, having checked the documentation on the captured ships, considered that commander Nerger’s report was missing 2,700 Reichsmarks. Nerger reimbursed this amount from his salary.

On September 27, 1942, the German OKM (Oberkommando der Marine), the high command of the Kriegsmarine, received a radiogram from the blockade runner Tannenfels, reporting that the auxiliary cruiser Stir sank as a result of a battle with an “enemy auxiliary cruiser” in the Caribbean Sea. Thus ended the odyssey (however short-lived) of “ship No. 23,” the last German raider who managed to break into the Atlantic.

"Shtir" after entry into service

Enlisted in the corsairs
With the outbreak of World War II, the German command still had high hopes for auxiliary cruisers. Admirals, like generals, always prepare for past wars. The successful campaigns of the Möwe, the odyssey of the Wolf, the dramatic epic of the Seeadler were still too fresh in the memory. At that time there were many living witnesses to these military affairs. The German command, not unreasonably, believed that with the help of cruiser-raiders converted from merchant ships - essentially inexpensive - it was possible to cause significant chaos and confusion on the vast length of the Allies' communications, and to divert significant forces of the enemy Navy to search and patrol. Therefore, in the pre-war plans of the Kriegsmarine, a significant place was given to the actions of raiders against enemy transport arteries. But, it would seem, many analogies that echo the previous war, upon closer examination turned out to be only external in comparison with the current war. Radio technology marched forward with great strides - the means of communication, search and detection improved by an order of magnitude. Aviation, which spread its wings during the 20 interwar years, gave a completely new format to naval operations.

Nevertheless, with the beginning of the Second World War, the German command sent surface forces to the ocean, along with the still few ocean-going submarines. At first these were specially built warships, but after the death of the Graf Spee and especially the Bismarck, such undertakings were recognized as dangerous and expensive adventures. And the battle on communications was completely transferred to Admiral Dönitz’s “steel sharks” and auxiliary cruisers.

The German raiders are picturesque and dramatic. They are replete with numerous vivid combat episodes. At the beginning of the war, pirate luck often winked at them. However, the Allies made Herculean efforts to turn the Atlantic, if not into an Anglo-American lake, then at least into a pocket backwater. The funds, forces and resources devoted to the struggle for communications were simply colossal. In the summer of 1942, despite the seemingly impressive successes of German sailors, especially submariners, this strategy began to bear its first, barely noticeable fruits. The number of regions in the ocean where German raiders and supply ships could feel more or less calm was inexorably decreasing. The breakthrough of German ships into the Atlantic became more and more problematic. The star of the 20th century corsairs was declining. It was in these conditions that “ship No. 23,” which became known as the auxiliary cruiser “Stier,” was preparing to go to sea.

The ship was built in 1936 at the Germaniawerft shipyard in Kiel and was named Cairo. It was a standard motor ship with a displacement of 11,000 tons, equipped with one seven-cylinder diesel engine. Before the war, it operated routine commercial cargo flights for the Deutsche Levant Line as a banana carrier. After the outbreak of World War II, the Cairo, like many other civilian vessels, was requisitioned for the needs of the Kriegsmarine. Initially, it was converted into a minelayer to participate in the never-completed Operation Sea Lion. After the initial successes of German raiders on Allied communications, the German command decides to increase pressure and increase the number of auxiliary cruisers operating in the ocean. Since the spring of 1941, the ship stood at the shipyard wall in German-occupied Rotterdam. Throughout the summer and autumn, intensive work was carried out on her to convert her into an auxiliary cruiser. On November 9, the former cargo ship was enlisted in the Kriegsmarine under the name "Stier" and began to prepare for the campaign. The ship received the standard armament for German raiders of World War II - 6x150 mm guns. Anti-aircraft armament consisted of a 1x37 mm gun and 2x20 mm machine guns. The Stir also carried two torpedo tubes. The range of weapons included a seaplane for reconnaissance. Zur See captain Horst Gerlach was appointed to command the crew of 330 people.

The crew spent the entire winter and early spring of 1942 preparing for the campaign. The raider received a huge number of different supplies necessary for autonomous navigation. After the appropriate work, the estimated cruising range using economic speed should have reached 50 thousand tons. By May 1942, all pre-campaign work was finally completed.

Breakthrough
By the time the Stir was scheduled to leave, the situation in the English Channel was such that in order to successfully break through the raider from the dangerous narrowness of the English channel, the Germans had to carry out an entire military operation. Much has changed since the breakthrough of Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen from Brest (Operation Cerberus, February 1942).

On the afternoon of May 12, the Stir, disguised as the auxiliary ship Sperrbrecher 171, left Rotterdam under the escort of four destroyers (Condor, Falke, Seeadler and Iltis). After leaving the mouth of the Meuse River, 16 minesweepers joined the convoy, which went ahead of the raider and destroyers. German intelligence reported on the possible presence of British torpedo boats in the strait. By nightfall, the German formation entered the Strait of Dover. Shortly before three o'clock the convoy came under fire from a British 14-inch battery, but to no avail. While the Germans were maneuvering, trying to get out of the zone of destruction of coastal guns, English boatmen crept up on them almost unnoticed, and managed to launch an attack from the side of the friendly shore. In a short battle, the Iltis and Seeadler were sunk. The British were missing the torpedo boat MTK-220.

On May 13, the Stir arrived in Boulogne, where it replenished its ammunition (the raider generously used illumination shells and small-caliber artillery in the night battle). Then the ship moved to Le Havre to reach the mouth of the Gironde on May 19. Here the raider took supplies for the last time and filled the fuel tanks to capacity.

From here Horst Gerlach took his ship south. This was the last successful breakthrough of a German raider into the Atlantic in World War II.

Auxiliary cruiser "Stir" in the ocean

Hike
When the tension caused by going to sea and crossing the Bay of Biscay subsided somewhat, the crew began to get involved in the everyday life of the campaign. Initially, this was not very easy: “Shtir” was filled to capacity with various equipment and supplies. “It seemed to us that the ship was going to Antarctica,” recalled a participant in the trip. The corridors and decks were littered with bales, boxes, sacks and barrels. Soon the raider reached the first area of operation near Fernando de Noronha (an archipelago northeast of the coast of Brazil).

On June 4, Stir opened its account. The first catch was the British steamer Gemstone (5000 GRT). Gerlach successfully set from the direction of the sun, and was discovered only when he opened fire from a distance of 5 miles. The Briton offered no resistance - the crew was transported to the raider, and the ship was torpedoed. As the interrogation of the prisoners showed, the ship was transporting iron ore from Durban to Baltimore.

The morning of June 6 began with a rain squall, on the edge of which an unknown vessel was spotted. It turned out to be a Panamanian tanker, which immediately turned its stern to the raider and opened fire with two guns. The chase began. The Stir had to expend 148 shells of its “main” caliber and, in addition, hit the fleeing tanker with a torpedo in the stern before the battle was over. "Stanvak Calcutta" (10 thousand GRT) was traveling in ballast from Montevideo to pick up cargo for Aruba. The captain and radio operator, along with the radio station, were destroyed by the raider's very first salvo, so, fortunately for the Germans, the distress signal was not transmitted.

On June 10, a rendezvous with the supply tanker Carlotta Schliemann took place. Refueling was difficult: at first the Germans had to redo the connections of the fuel hoses, then it suddenly turned out that due to an error by the senior mechanic of the “supply”, fuel containing more than 90% sea water was being pumped onto the raider. The enraged Gerlach, as a senior in rank, gave him an appropriate scolding.

Meanwhile, bad weather set in with storms and poor visibility. The commander of the Stir decides to request permission from headquarters to proceed to the west coast of South America, where, in his opinion, there were more favorable “hunting” conditions. On July 18, the raider again replenishes fuel from the Carlotta Schliemann, this time refueling takes place as usual. Not receiving the go-ahead for redeployment from headquarters, Gerlach circles around the given area, not finding much-needed loot. On July 28, a rare meeting of two “hunters” took place: the Stir met with another auxiliary cruiser, the Michel. The commander of the latter, Ruksteschel, after consulting with Gerlach, decided to stay together for some time to conduct personnel training and exchange some supplies. Both German commanders considered the area northeast of the Brazilian coast unsuitable for operations; shipping here, in their opinion, was extremely irregular. The two ships sailed together until August 9, after which, wishing each other “happy hunting,” the raiders parted. "Mikhel" headed for the Indian Ocean.

Literally a few hours after parting with a colleague in the craft, a large ship was spotted traveling on a parallel course. Gerlach approached cautiously and fired a warning shot. To the surprise of the Germans, the “merchant” turned around and walked towards them. At the same time, his radio started working, transmitting the QQQ signal (warning of a meeting with an enemy raider). "Shtir" began to work for defeat. The ship responded with a small-caliber cannon, the shells of which did not reach the German ship. Only after the twentieth salvo did the Englishman stop, having a strong fire in the stern. The Dalhousie (7,000 tons displacement, sailing from Cape Town to La Plata in ballast) was finished off by a torpedo.

Alarmed by the alarm signal transmitted by the English ship, Gerlach decided to move south - to the Cape Town - La Plata line. The raider commander, in addition, plans to make a stop near some remote island to carry out routine repairs and preventive maintenance on the main power plant. The Germans refused to park at the small volcanic island of Gough (Tristan da Cunha archipelago), which they initially considered. The sea was rough and no suitable anchorage could be found.

“Shtir” frankly had no luck with the search. The Arado-231 airborne seaplane, originally intended for large submarines, became depressed and was unfit for flight. Several times the raider's radio operators detected powerful and close sources of radio signals. On September 4, a lookout on the mast noticed a large ship moving at high speed. The Germans identified it as the French liner Pasteur with a displacement of 35 thousand tons, under Allied control. The low speed (11-12 knots) did not allow the Stir to give chase, and Gerlach only hoped that they would not be identified from the liner or would be mistaken for a harmless merchant.

Raider two days before his death. The torn side is clearly visible

The fruitless search continued. The raider was running out of coal reserves - it was needed for the operation of desalination plants. At least twenty tons per week. A radiogram came from the headquarters informing that at the beginning of October the Stir was waiting for a meeting with the supply ship Brake, from which fresh provisions, spare parts and spare parts would be received, and, most importantly, the loss of ammunition would be replenished. In the near future, Gerlach was ordered to meet again with "Michel", who was taking care of the blockade runner "Tannenfels", traveling with a cargo of scarce raw materials from Japan to Bordeaux. On September 23, the ships met near Suriname. "Mikhel" soon disappeared into the Atlantic again, and the raider's crew, taking advantage of the situation, decided to start painting the sides and minor repairs. Fortunately, the German instructions indicated that ships were not passing through this area at the moment. The instructions, as it soon turned out, were incorrect.

Fight and death
On the morning of September 27, the Shtir crew was still carrying out painting work. Tannenfels was nearby. A certain amount of provisions was reloaded from it to the raider, in addition, the commander of the blockade runner “gave” Gerlach a Japanese seaplane, which, however, was received without enthusiasm - it did not have a radio station and bomb racks.

Bulk carrier "Stephen Hopkins"

There was light fog and drizzle at sea. At 8.52 the signalman from the mast shouted that he saw a large ship on the starboard side. The signal “Stop or I will shoot” was immediately raised. The loud bells on the Stir began to ring out - a combat alert was announced. At 8.55 the crews of the main caliber guns reported their readiness to open fire. The ship ignored the signal and at 8.56 the German raider opened fire. Four minutes later the enemy responded. In this campaign, “Shtir” was simply “lucky” with “peaceful traders” who were by no means timid. Subsequently, in his report, the commander of the German ship will write that he collided with a well-armed auxiliary cruiser, armed with at least four guns. In fact, the Stier met with the conventional Liberty-class mass-produced military freighter Stephen Hopkins, armed with one 4-inch WWI gun and two 37-mm anti-aircraft guns on the bow platform.

Americans of the mid-20th century were a people cut from a slightly different cloth than those of today. The guys whose grandfathers explored the Wild West and whose fathers built industrial America still remembered what it meant to be “free and brave.” General tolerance had not yet liquefied the brain, and the American dream was still trying to sparkle with the chrome of a Ford radiator, the bass roar of Liberators and Mustangs, and not flash on the TV screen as an ugly clown in pink pants from McDonald's.

"Stephen Hopkins" without hesitation accepted an unequal battle with an enemy ship, which was many times larger than it in the weight of the salvo. Almost exactly a month earlier, on August 25, 1942, in the distant Arctic, the old Soviet icebreaker steamship Sibiryakov entered into a desperate and courageous battle with the heavily armed battleship Admiral Scheer. It is unlikely that the Hopkins crew knew about this - they were simply doing their duty.

The American turned sharply to the left, and the Stir, accordingly, to the right, preventing the enemy from leaving. Meanwhile, the Tannenfels was jamming the cargo ship's radio station. As soon as the raider turned around, he immediately received two direct hits. The first shell jammed the rudder in the extreme right position, so that the raider began to describe the circulation. The second hit was completely serious. The shell penetrated the engine room and broke one of the diesel cylinders. The shrapnel also caused other damage. The engine stopped. However, the inertia continued to move the Stir, and it was able to bring the left side guns into battle. Gerlach tried to torpedo the Hopkins, but was unable to because all the ship's electrical equipment had failed. The German 150mm guns fired heavily, despite the fact that the lifts were not working and the shells had to be removed from the hold by hand. The American cargo ship was already on fire and stopped. The Germans destroyed his gun with a well-aimed hit. By the way, the crew of this only gun, not even covered by a fragmentation shield, was destroyed shortly after the start of the battle. The crew rooms were occupied by volunteer sailors, who were also mowed down by shrapnel. In the last minutes of the battle, 18-year-old cadet Edwin O'Hara fired at the enemy alone until the gun was destroyed by an explosion. He was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross for Valor. The escort destroyer D-354, which entered service in 1944, will be named after him.

At 9.10 the Germans ceased fire for several minutes: the opponents were separated by a rain squall. At 9.18 the shooting resumed. The raider managed to score several more direct hits. The crippled enemies lay drifting in full view of each other. The American cargo ship was on fire. Seeing the complete futility of further resistance, Captain Buck orders the ship to be abandoned. At about 10 o'clock the Stephen Hopkins sank. Captain Paul Buck and the seriously wounded chief mate Richard Mozkowski remained on board, refusing to leave the ship, as did chief engineer Rudy Rutz, who had not returned from the engine room.

The duel with his last victim cost the unlucky corsair dearly. During the battle, Stir received 15 (according to other sources, 35 - the Americans also fired from anti-aircraft guns) hits. One of the shells that exploded in the bow hold broke the pipeline connecting the bow fuel tanks to the engine room. There was a fire raging there, which was becoming less and less under control. It was not possible to restore full power supply. Firefighting equipment was not functioning. Hand-held fire extinguishers were used, but after a few minutes they were empty. The Germans lower boats and barrels behind the boat: they are filled with water, and then, with great difficulty, they are lifted onto the deck by hand. With the help of buckets and other available equipment, it was possible to stop the spread of fire towards hold No. 2, where the torpedoes were stored. The Kingstons, with which it was possible to flood this hold, were unavailable. The torpedo tube crews were cut off by fire, but the torpedo officer and volunteers carried out a daring rescue operation and rescued people trapped in the space between decks at the waterline level. Attempts to start fire hoses from the Tannenfels were unsuccessful due to the excitement.

At 10.14 it was possible to start the engines, but the rudder still remained practically motionless. After another 10 minutes, it was reported from the smoke-filled engine room that there was no way to maintain the operation of the power plant due to heavy smoke and rising temperatures. Soon the heat forced the sailors to retreat from the auxiliary steering post. The situation became critical. Gerlach gathers his officers on the bridge for an emergency meeting, at which the ship's condition is now deemed hopeless. The fire was already approaching the torpedo hold, and the Stir was already directly threatened by the fate of the Cormoran, which, after the battle with the Australian cruiser Sydney, was destroyed by fire and its own mines that were not exposed.

"Shtir" is sinking

The order is given to abandon the ship. Tannenfels is ordered to get as close as possible. Boats and life rafts are lowered overboard. To ensure this, the Germans install demolition charges. The blockade runner had barely finished picking up people when the Stir exploded at 11.40 and sank. During the battle, three Germans were killed, among them the ship's doctor, Meyer Hamme. 33 crew members were injured. Of the 56 people aboard the Hopkins, 37 (along with the captain) died in battle, 19 survivors drifted at sea for more than a month, traveling almost 2 thousand miles, until they reached the coast of Brazil. Of these, four died on the way.

The German ship tried to find and pick up the Americans in hot pursuit, but poor visibility prevented this venture. On November 8, 1942, Tannenfels arrived safely in Bordeaux.

The commander of the West group, Admiral General V. Marshall, welcomes the surviving crew members of the Stir aboard the blockade runner Tannenfels. Bordeaux, November 8, 1942

The end of the era of raiding

Auxiliary cruiser crew member's badge

"Stier" was the last German raider to enter the ocean relatively safely. In October 1942, while attempting to break into the Atlantic, the hitherto successful Komet perished. In February 1943, the last petrel for Allied communications rushes into the ocean "Togo", but only to be severely damaged by the British "Beaufighters" of the air patrol. After the disastrous “New Year’s battle” in the Arctic, Raeder leaves the post of fleet commander, and his post is taken by the adept of uncompromising submarine warfare, Karl Dönitz. Operations involving surface ships in the open ocean are stopped - all heavy ships are concentrated in the Norwegian fiords or are used in the Baltic as training ships. Aviation and modern detection equipment put an end to the era of auxiliary cruisers - trade fighters.

The battle at sea is completely in the hands of the “grinning bearded men”, the submarine commanders. Gradually there will be more and more boats, and less and less bearded men. Places in central posts and in control rooms will be taken by beardless young men. But that's a completely different story.

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It was May 1940, the war was going on, the armies of Nazi Germany were victoriously moving west, and when the lookout of the British liner City of Exeter, plying the waters of the South Atlantic, reported a mast looming on the horizon, the captain became wary. But half an hour later, he was relieved to identify the approaching stranger as the 8,400-ton ship Kashii Maru - Japanese, therefore neutral.

On its deck, a woman was rocking a stroller; next to her, lazily leaning on the rails, stood several members of the crew, the tails of their untucked shirts, like all Japanese sailors, fluttering in the wind. The two ships separated without stopping or giving any signals. In fact, the carriage was empty, and the “woman” was not one at all. The names of the “Japanese” sailors leaning on the rails were Fritz, Klaus and Karl. The rest of the crew - sailors, gunners, torpedomen, 350 people in total - disappeared inside the ship. Hidden beneath the plywood fans, canvas pipes and paint was the German raider Atlantis, one of the most dangerous predators ever to hunt the oceans.

Throughout the war, the Germans equipped nine such raiders, which sank a total of 136 ships. But Atlantis had the most victories and trophies to its name, the most miles traveled astern, and one of the most distinguished captains. She left the slipway as the Goldenfels, a 7,800-ton fast merchant vessel. When the war began, it was secretly equipped with six 5.9-inch guns, a large number of smaller caliber guns, torpedo tubes, a seaplane and a load of mines. To make it look more like a harmless merchant, a variety of supports, supports, and braces were installed on it.

In March 1940, the Atlantis, under the command of Bernhard Rogge, an imposing forty-year-old German navy captain, sneaked off the Norwegian coast, pretending to be a Soviet steamer, and slipped into the North Atlantic. The order given to him was: to strike with maximum surprise all ships sailing past the African Cape of Good Hope.

After crossing the equator on April 25, Atlantis lowered the Soviet flag and removed the false funnel, turning into a “Japanese” ship, met by the City of Exeter, which Captain Rogge did not attack due to the large number of passengers on board.

The first victim of Atlantis was the British ship Scientist. The order to drift and not transmit radiograms came as a complete surprise to the British sailors. The radio operator maintained his presence of mind and sent a signal meaning “an enemy armed merchant ship is trying to stop me.” The Atlantis opened fire, hitting the Scientist in the middle part and destroying the radio room. 77 crew members of the damaged ship, two of whom were wounded, one fatally, boarded boats. All of them were taken aboard the raider as prisoners of war, and the Scientist itself was sunk. The Germans moved on past the Cape of Good Hope.

Two weeks later, Captain Rogge intercepted a British warning that a German auxiliary cruiser disguised as a Japanese vessel might appear in the Indian Ocean. Immediately, Atlantis threw off its “kimono” and turned into the Dutch motor ship Abbekerk.

His second victim was the Norwegian motor ship Tirranna, loaded with supplies for Australian troops in Palestine. Captain Rogge sent a prize crew to it and carried it with him for several weeks, using it as a floating prison. A month after the Tirranna, three more ships fell victim to the raider one after another, and the next month as many as five.

Messages found in a ship's trash bin revealed the British maritime trading codes to the Germans. After this, the Admiralty ordered all its ships to report suspicious ships by radio, regardless of the consequences. As a consequence of this, Atlantis was ordered to open fire first, then negotiate. Radiograms were sent from approximately every second ship attacked by the raider, most of which were fired upon by guns and sometimes with significant damage. However, it should be noted that Captain Rogge conducted his naval war as “civilized” as possible under those conditions. He kept prisoners in cabins and took on board everything that could be salvaged. During the 20 months Rogge spent at sea, there was a point when he held more than a thousand prisoners of all ages, both sexes and 20 nationalities. They were all given the same ration that the team received. During the day they were allowed to go on deck, unless Atlantis was in combat, and swim in the canvas pool. The captains of sunken ships had separate cabins. When the prisoners had to be transferred to other ships, Captain Rogge organized farewell dinners in honor of the captains.

The first half of the autumn of 1940 turned out to be extremely meager for production for Atlantis: only one ship in forty days. But in November, within two days, he came across three ships at once. The Norwegian tanker Ole Jakob, filled to the brim with high-octane gasoline, was captured without resistance by two Atlantis officers disguised as British officers who sailed up in a motor boat. The Norwegian tanker Teddy burned for several hours, turning into a huge torch, visible for several miles. And the British ship Automedon, carrying important documents, including a top secret War Office report and mail for the British Far East High Command, surrendered after a shell fired from the raider killed everyone on the bridge.

The year 1941 began poorly for Atlantis - only four ships in a few months. One of them was the Egyptian liner Zam Zam, carrying 140 American missionaries. Both the passengers and the Zam Zama crew - 309 people in total - were safely transferred to Atlantis. The next day, another German ship, the Dresden, freed the raider from all the prisoners and after some time delivered them to Bordeaux. The Allies suffered, perhaps, no less from the horror that the raider inspired than from the loss of their ships. The British had to send their warships, badly needed in other areas, south to search for him; captains of transport ships were forced to navigate them along detour routes, wasting time and fuel; it became more difficult to recruit teams, and a “danger zone” premium had to be paid.

For most of the summer, Atlantis sailed the southern expanses of the Indian Ocean, meeting no one except seagulls. Finally, on September 10, 1941, he captured his 22nd - and final - prize, the Norwegian ship Silvaplana. On November 21, landing after a morning flight, the Atlantis reconnaissance aircraft, having received damage, failed, and this happened just at the time when it was needed most. The next day, the raider had to meet with the submarine U-126 to take fuel on board. It was a rather complex operation, during which Atlantis became very vulnerable. The rendezvous took place halfway between Brazil and Africa, and by breakfast time the fuel pumping had begun. Several members of the raider's crew were sitting in a motor boat next to the submarine, and the captain of U-126 boarded the Atlantis, whose port side vehicles were dismantled for repairs.

Suddenly, the lookout, peering into the sunlit horizon, noticed the top of the mast. A few minutes later, the Germans discovered that the heavy British cruiser Devonshire, commanded by Captain R. D. Oliver, was approaching them. Instantly, the cables connecting the two ships were removed, and U-126 sank, leaving its captain aboard Atlantis. Did the British manage to see the submarine? From a hastily disconnected hose, fuel spilled into the water around the raider like a rainbow-colored spot. Atlantis had only one thing left to do: start negotiations and, stalling for time, try to mislead the enemy and lure him into an area where the U-126 torpedoes could reach him.

But Captain Oliver was very careful. With the exception of the fans and some other parts, this ship, which had spilled fuel around itself, corresponded to the Admiralty’s description of the elusive raider. Therefore, alternately changing course and staying out of torpedo range, he approached the Atlantis and captured it in the artillery fork with two shots.

The raider radioed that the ship was called Polyphemus. The captain of the cruiser sent a request to the commander-in-chief in the South Atlantic: could the ship he encountered turn out to be the real Polyphemus? For almost an hour, Atlantis, lying adrift and gently rocking on the waves, dragged out the negotiations. Captain Rogge never gave up hope that U-126 would sneak up on the cruiser and fire a torpedo. But the senior officer on the submarine instead ordered him to remain near the raider. At 9.34 the response from the Commander-in-Chief in the South Atlantic was received: “No - I repeat - no!” A minute later, the Devonshire opened fire. After the third salvo of eight-inch guns that covered the Atlantis, Captain Rogge gave the order to set the explosive clock mechanisms and abandon the ship.

A minute before 10 o'clock the bow artillery magazine exploded, and a few minutes later the Atlantis sank under the water amid applause and farewell cries of the sailors for whom it had been home for 20 months. Captain Rogge, who was in one of the boats with his Scottish terrier Ferry, saluted while standing.

Captain Oliver, as he explained in his report to the Admiralty, could not approach and pick up survivors “due to the risk of being torpedoed,” so the Devonshire soon disappeared over the horizon. As a result of the attack on the Atlantis, only seven people died, at least a hundred were floating in the water and clinging to the wreckage. The surfaced submarine picked up the wounded and irreplaceable specialists, 200 people were placed in lifeboats, and 52, equipped with life belts and blankets, perched on the deck of U-126, and if it sank, they had to swim to the lifeboats. The nearest land, Brazil, was 950 miles away.

The strange flotilla - six boats pulled by a submarine - set off on their voyage at noon, immediately after the raider was sunk. Twice a day, hot food was distributed using a rubber boat pulled out of the submarine.

On the third day they met the German submarine supply ship Python. The sailors of the Atlantis were brought aboard - only to soon find themselves in the water again, since the Python was met and sunk by another British cruiser, the Dorsetshire, famous for delivering the final blow to the Bismarck in a naval battle six months earlier.

In the end, on German and Italian submarines, the Atlantis crew members reached Saint-Nazaire and from there went to Berlin, where they arrived immediately after the new year of 1942. Captain Rogge received the rank of rear admiral and was appointed to lead the training of naval cadets. But later, when his anti-Nazi sentiments were revealed, he was transferred to some unimportant position.

"Shtir" after entry into service

From here Horst Gerlach took his ship south. This was the last successful breakthrough of a German raider into the Atlantic in World War II.

Auxiliary cruiser "Stir" in the ocean

Raider two days before his death. The torn side is clearly visible

Bulk carrier "Stephen Hopkins"

"Shtir" is sinking

The German ship tried to find and pick up the Americans in hot pursuit, but poor visibility prevented this venture. On November 8, 1942, Tannenfels arrived safely in Bordeaux.

The commander of the West group, Admiral General V. Marshall, welcomes the surviving crew members of the Stir aboard the blockade runner Tannenfels. Bordeaux, November 8, 1942

The end of the era of raiding

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Surely military glory was not at all part of the plans of the management of the famous German shipping company North German Lloyd, when in 1900 it ordered a new four-pipe fast liner from the Vulcan shipyard in Stettin (the current Polish city of Szczecin).
In accordance with the loyal traditions of the company, the new ship, even before laying, was named “Kronprinz Wilhelm” - in honor of one of the representatives of the royal house of Hohenzollern that ruled in Germany. The new transatlantic liner was supposed to strengthen the prestige of Germany on the European-American line, won with blood by the first-born - the speedboat "North German Lloyd", the steamship "Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse" built in 1897, which took away the most prestigious prize, the "Blue Ribbon of the Atlantic", from the British .

In addition, the construction of the Kronprinz was intended to put to shame Lloyd's rivals in Germany, the transatlantic Hamburg-America Line, whose four-pipe Deutschland speedboat took the Blue Ribbon away from Big Willie, as the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse was dubbed. » his many fans. Despite the fact that the economic data of the Deutschland were kept secret, it was no secret to anyone that the new Ribbon Bearer, built with huge government subsidies, was too gluttonous to make a profit, but it was a bearer of the national German prestige on the Atlantic.

In order not to fall into the same mistake as its Hamburg competitors, the North German Lloyd company used two relatively economical quadruple expansion steam engines with a total power of about 36,000 hp on its new liner. s., operating on two screws. Steam for the machines was supplied by 12 single-furnace and 4 double-furnace boilers located in four boiler rooms. Each of them had an individual chimney. Naturally, a large amount of coal was required to fire the boilers - when running at maximum speed (23 knots), the Kronprinz Wilhelm consumed about 500 tons of fuel per day. For comparison, however, the competing liner Deutschland had a daily coal consumption of up to 1,200 tons. The main designer of the steamship was the famous shipbuilder Robert Zimmerman, who had extensive experience in designing passenger ships, the author of the “Big Willie” project.

In its architecture, “Kronprinz Wilhelm” generally repeated its older brother, “Big Willy” - it had the same low silhouette, a straight knife-shaped stem, a cruising stern with an overhang, an elongated superstructure from the forecastle to the very stern overhang and four pipes combined into two closely spaced pairs. At the same time, in addition to installing more modern machines, the liner had a displacement of 600 tons (14908 tons) compared to “Big Willie” and was 3.05 m longer (202.1 m).
Despite its similar size and displacement, the Kronprinz Wilhelm was, in comparison with the Big Willy, a quite cost-effective and capacious ship - the ship could carry 367 first-class, 340 second-class and 1054 third-class passengers.
Like any fast liner being built at that time, the Kronprinz Wilhelm was supposed to be able to act as an auxiliary cruiser in the event of war.

For this purpose, reinforcements were provided on the forecastle and superstructure of the ship for the installation of artillery guns, and the most vulnerable parts of the hull - in particular, the boiler rooms and engine rooms - received structural protection. To store ammunition in the immediate vicinity of the reinforcements for the guns, special storage rooms were provided, which, in the event of conversion to a warship, were converted into artillery cellars.
In addition, there were innovations in the design of the new liner, although not directly related to its potential military purpose, but very useful during conversion into an auxiliary cruiser. These included, in particular, the presence of an extensive telephone network, providing good communication between the bridge and most posts throughout the ship, a radio room equipped with the latest technology, which, by the way, had 4-mm steel walls and a roof, as well as very voluminous refrigerators, which could provide the crew of the auxiliary cruiser with quality food for several months.

The liner made its first voyage to New York in September 1901. And on one of its subsequent voyages, exactly a year later, in September 1902, the Kronprinz Wilhelm took the Blue Riband of the Atlantic from the Deutschland. Upon arrival in New York, the liner had a rather unpresentable appearance - the powerful waves through which the Crown Prince sailed without slowing down stripped the paint off its bow. But even this was perceived by the public as battle scars, and only increased the prestige of the new ship and its owners. The Kronprinz Wilhelm became one of the most popular liners on the Atlantic.

In 1903 and 1904, the “Big Willie” and the “Kronprinz Wilhelm” were joined by two more fast liners, somewhat larger and quite economical, named in the tradition of the “North German Lloyd”: “Kaiser Wilhelm II” and “Kronprinzin Cecilie”.
Until the very beginning of the war, the Kronprinz Wilhelm and its partner ships enjoyed stable and enduring popularity, bringing significant profits to the company. The popularity of the German four was practically not affected by the fact that in 1907 the Blue Ribbon of the Atlantic returned to the British again - two giant turbo ships, the Lusitania and the Mauretania, entered the transatlantic route. North German Lloyd was optimistic about the future. But after the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo, the world inexorably slid towards a major war. All German ships and ships, both military and civilian, began to prepare to participate in hostilities. In early July, all Kriegsmarine combat units received full wartime crews and began intensive training to ensure they were fully armed when war was declared.

Small cargo ships, converted into supply ships, departed for pre-designated points in the World Ocean. They were to play a vital role in the raider war on long-distance communications. A number of large civilian ships flying the German flag began to be converted into auxiliary cruisers. These works were carried out at all German shipyards on the Baltic and North Sea coasts.

True, almost all German transatlantic airliners continued to make regular flights. Their owners managed to convince the country's leadership that a one-time removal of all large ships from the transatlantic line at the height of the summer season would lead not only to a decline in German national prestige, but also to a significant reduction in treasury revenues.
That is why, at the end of July 1914, three liners from the German four were in New York: Kronprinz Wilhelm, Kaiser Wilhelm II and Crown Princess Cecilie, as well as the newest three-pipe giant Vaterland and several other smaller liners.

Despite the threat of war, the Crown Prince, who arrived at the North German Lloyd pier on July 29, was greeted by a crowd of well-wishers - mostly Americans of German origin. The American representative office of the shipowner worked as usual; Captain Karl Grann received an order from there to bunker the ship and load food on board for the return voyage. On the 31st, another order followed, this time from the company’s headquarters: to take on board an additional 2,000 tons of coal and a supply of several tons of fresh water.
On the first day of August, while the handlers were bunkering the Kronprinz, pouring American coal into its belly, the management of the North German Lloyd canceled the sailing to Europe planned for the 4th and officially announced that the Kronprinz Wilhelm, together with the Wilhelm II, and the Crown Princess Cecilie will remain at Hoboken Pier in New York "until further notice."

At the same time, Germany had very specific plans for using the Kronprinz Wilhelm as an auxiliary cruiser. On the evening of August 1, K. Grann was called to the New York office of the North German Lloyd company and notified that his ship must leave US territorial waters as soon as possible. The captain of the Kronprinz Wilhelm was handed a package delivered by diplomatic mail with secret instructions on further actions, which was to be opened on the high seas.

On the night of August 1–2, the crew of the liner worked tirelessly. Preparations were underway for the escape from New York and for further service as an auxiliary combat unit of the Gohseeflotte. Stewards and sailors were busy loading coal, the engine crew carried out maintenance on the machines and prepared them for long-term operation. At the same time, the decoration and unnecessary interior items, especially wooden ones, which could become food for fire, were dismantled and transferred to the holds.
Those decorative elements that could not be dismantled were wrapped in pillows and mattresses. All portholes and windows were equipped with blackout curtains. Large windows in the public areas of the liner and glass panels in the salons had to be covered with wooden shields.
Large buckets of sand were placed throughout the ship (now a warship) to extinguish fires. All these preparations were carried out overnight and, moreover, with secrecy - if the essence of military preparations on board the Kronprinz Wilhelm had become clear to an outside observer, they would have been immediately reported to the British warships patrolling the approaches to New York. York.

But despite all the team’s efforts to maintain secrecy, the next morning it became clear to many that the German liner was no longer a passenger ship. American naval intelligence and the New York police sent a large number of agents to monitor the Hoboken Pier, but, apparently, their attention was distributed evenly between the three liners, and the preparations on the Crown Prince were simply not given due attention.

Captain Grani gave the order to be ready to sail at any moment on the morning of the second of August. By this point, the threat of internment of German airliners in New York had become very real. But the next day, August 3, when German troops invaded Belgium, the moment of truth came for Captain Grann - a terrible thunderstorm broke out over New York with a prolonged downpour. Apparently, most of the agents, unaccustomed to long, hardships in the open air, hurried to natural shelters. In the midst of a thunderstorm, Grani, as if nothing had happened, called tugboats, which at 8 o’clock in the evening brought the Kronprinz onto the fairway and turned it towards the ocean. The liner moved down the river.
Naturally, his departure did not go unnoticed; reports from British agents soon reached British warships patrolling in international waters near New York. But the British expected that Grani would send his ship the shortest route to Germany, so the main interception forces were concentrated east-northeast of the Nantucket lighthouse.

Grani, expecting precisely such actions from the British, immediately turned south upon leaving New York. This maneuver, combined with darkness and bad weather, ultimately saved the Crown Prince from being captured or sunk.
Having avoided contact with the enemy, Grani opened the envelope with secret instructions. The latter ordered to move south and listen to the radio on a clearly designated frequency, waiting for a “message of extreme importance.” The message was not long in coming - just four hours after the successful escape from Hoboken, the German light cruiser Karlsruhe contacted the Kronprinz, assigning the liner a rendezvous point on August 6, 300 nautical miles east of Cuba.
Grani managed to avoid unwanted encounters with unfriendly ships and vessels by frequently changing course, maintaining a high speed and observing the strictest blackout. However, on August 4, the British steamer Seguranza of the Ward Line company reported on air that it had spotted a German liner off the coast of Virginia. This message, as well as a subsequent exchange of dispatches between British warships patrolling along the east coast of the United States, were intercepted by radio officer Brinkmann.
From this radio exchange it became clear that Germany was already at war with Great Britain. Enemy radio traffic clearly indicated that when British ships met the Kronprinz Wilhelm, the liner would most likely not be detained, but sunk.

Fortunately, the rest of the passage passed without incident, and at 9 am on August 6, the small four-tube light cruiser-raider Karlsruhe approached the Kronprinz Wilhelm at the rendezvous point. Half an hour after the rendezvous, the cruiser was securely moored to the starboard side of the liner; both ships stopped moving, but kept their boilers under steam, so that if the enemy appeared, they could instantly set sail.
An order from Berlin ordered Grann to transfer part of the coal stock and other supplies to the cruiser. In turn, a group of 16 Gochseeflotte officers under the command of Lieutenant-Commander Paul Thierfelder was supposed to move from Karlsruhe to Kronprinz Wilhelm; weapons with significant ammunition were also supposed to be installed on the liner. Thierfelder was supposed to take command of the Crown Prince from Grann and begin independent raiding.
At the same time, Grani became the first mate. Thierfelder served on the Karlsruhe as a senior navigator; he was only 31 years old, but he was already a very experienced naval officer. After the military crew boarded the Kronprinz Wilhelm at noon, the imperial war flag was hoisted from the liner's mast. The pride of the North German Lloyd company has officially become a combatant.

Meanwhile, the situation at the Karlsruhe and the Crown Prince, drifting in broad daylight with good visibility in the open ocean, was extremely dangerous - the enemy could appear on the horizon at any moment. The liner's radio picked up an intense exchange of dispatches between British cruisers patrolling nearby. The transshipment of supplies proceeded with feverish haste, the ship's band of the Kronprinz encouraged the ships' crews, playing bravura German marches. First, the sailors from the liner and cruiser, stained with coal dust, reloaded some of the coal from the Kronprinz's bunkers through the side ports onto the Karlsruhe, then it was the turn of food supplies and fresh water. At the same time, the bow cargo booms of the liner lifted two 88-mm cannons, boxes with 290 shells for them, a Spandau machine gun and thirty Mauser rifles from the deck of the cruiser. This was not all that the cruiser had to transfer aboard the Kronprinz, and the loading of supplies onto the cruiser was not yet completed, but at about 15.00 a cloud of smoke appeared on the horizon.
As it later turned out, it was the British armored cruiser Suffolk. The liner's horn barked, activated by the lookout in the crow's nest on the foremast. The sailors from the liner's deck crew immediately began cutting the mooring lines connecting their ship to the Karlsruhe, and the cruiser's gunners took their places at the guns.

Both ships immediately set sail. Loading operations were forced to be interrupted when the distance between the ships made them impossible. Having reached evolutionary speed, the Kronprinz Wilhelm immediately turned to the left, while the Karlsruhe turned to the right, leading the enemy away from the vulnerable liner. Aboard the Suffolk, Rear Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock watched as a single target on the horizon suddenly split into two. After brief hesitation, Cradock ordered pursuit of a target clearly identified as a German cruiser.
These few minutes of hesitation gave Thierfelder the opportunity to escape: he ordered to set on a course that would lead the liner in a straight line away from the English cruiser, and to develop full speed. The Kronprinz Wilhelm reached a speed of over 24 knots - incredible even during her transatlantic career. Naturally, there was no talk of any pursuit from the old Suffolk, which was developing just over 20 knots. Moreover, at this time the Englishman tried in vain to force the battle on the much faster Karlsruhe.

The flight of the Crown Prince from the Suffolk was directed to the west. Over the next two days, Thierfelder did everything possible to throw off possible British pursuit. At night the course was changed to the north, at noon the next day - to the west, then - to the southwest. Coal reserves were quickly depleted. Thierfelder decided to go to the Azores area, where a small German supply ship, the Valhalla, was located at a pre-designated position. Along the way, radio interception revealed that the Karlsruhe successfully evaded the battle with the Suffolk, and then evaded pursuit by another British cruiser, the Bristol.

But, in addition to the joyful news, there was also unpleasant news: the British fleet received irrefutable information that the Kronprinz Wilhelm was “on the warpath” and had clear instructions to neutralize the new enemy raider. Talentedly using radio interception data, as well as his intuition, Thierfelder successfully passed the curtain of British warships deployed in the central part of the Atlantic.

On the way to the Azores, the crew of the liner continued to prepare the Kronprinz for military service: first of all, two 88-mm cannons were placed on the forecastle. They were installed on under-deck reinforcements in such a way that each of the guns received a firing sector of about 180 degrees. Both guns had first-shot fenders mounted. A machine gun mount was installed on both wings of the bridge. Shooting cells were equipped on the promenade deck.
The bulkheads, in places where they could be exposed to enemy fire, were covered with mattresses and carpets, which provided good protection from bullet ricochets and secondary fragments. Improvised “mattress armor” in several layers protected the navigation bridge and the former first-class smoking room, where a twenty-bed infirmary with an operating room was located.
In addition, a team led by the liner's senior engineer turned the liner's Grand Salon into a huge coal bunker, where coal could be quickly unloaded from a supply ship or from a captured vehicle, after which fuel could be transported through the newly cut lapports in a short time. time to pour into the main bunkers located directly under the cabin.

On the morning of August 18, "Kronprinz Wilhelm" in sight of Fr. San Miguel (Azores) has reached a rendezvous with Valhalla. For four days, during daylight hours, the raider received coal and supplies from the supply ship, while at night the ships cruised close to each other. Radio interception was carried out constantly, its results indicated that there was a lot of tasty prey in the North Atlantic - unafraid British transports. By the time of parting with the Valhalla, the Kronprinz Wilhelm had received 2,500 tons of coal and a significant amount of fresh water and food supplies on board.
About a hundred people from the peacetime crew of the Kronprinz - mostly sick and people with poor physical fitness - were sent on board a supply ship to Germany.

The amount of coal that the raider received from the Valhalla was barely enough for two to two and a half weeks of cruising at a limited speed. However, Thierfelder believed that during this time the ship would be able to replenish its bunkers by capturing some kind of coal transport. The raider was in close proximity to the busy sea routes connecting Britain with its African and Indian dominions. But within two weeks after parting with the Valhalla, the Kronprinz Wilhelm encountered only a neutral Danish schooner and a Russian barque at sea.
Neither ship was carrying coal or any military contraband, and after a thorough search, both were released. On September 3, the Kronprinz met with the supply ship Asuncion near the Brazilian Cape of San Roque and received several hundred more tons of coal to continue cruising. And already in the evening of the next day, the lookouts of the Crown Prince noticed the British 2840-ton cargo steamer Indian Prince of the Princess Line company. Thierfelder brought his raider close to the British, after which he ordered the slow-moving victim to stop, illuminating him with searchlights. Night time, bad weather and strong excitement prevented the prize party from boarding the delayed transport immediately. Early on the morning of September 5, the Indian Prince was moored to the port side of the raider. The prize turned out to be very useful - in addition to several hundred tons of Cardiff from its bunkers, the Kronprinz crew received a significant increase in their diet - fresh meat, cocoa and coffee.

Naturally, the first desire of the German raider’s crew was to quickly unload the prize and send it to the bottom, but Thierfelder, having landed an armed prize party on board the Prince, ordered the captive steamer to be taken away from the routes of the allied ships. Only four days after the capture, the Prince was at low speed (!) completely unloaded and flooded with demolition charges. The small crew and twelve passengers of the English steamer were accommodated in the first class cabins of the Kronprinz Wilhelm.
The capture of such a rich prize naturally inspired the raider's crew, but the next victim was forced to wait. Two days after the sinking of the Prince, northwest of Cape San Roque, the raider met with the supply ship Ebernburg and remained at this point for the next three weeks, taking coal and supplies in succession from three supply ships arriving at the rendezvous point in sequence.

On September 14, the routine procedure of reloading coal was unexpectedly interrupted: a radio interception brought news that 150 miles south of the Kronprinz’s position, the German auxiliary cruiser, the former liner Cap Trafalgar, had entered into battle with its British “colleague”, the former liner Carmania. . At full speed, the Crown Prince rushed to the rescue. This was a completely understandable human gesture, but Thierfelder violated the direct order of the German Admiralty: to avoid detection by enemy forces in every possible way. Fortunately for the Crown Prince Wilhelm, the Carmania sent the Cap Trafalgar to the bottom before the former had the opportunity to intervene in the battle. Thierfelder had no choice but to return to the rendezvous point with the supplies and continue receiving supplies.

On October 7, a raider intercepted 200 miles east of Buenos Aires the new British refrigerated steamer La Correntina, heading from Argentina to England with 7.5 million pounds of frozen beef.
In addition to the meat, which La Correntina, against its will, supplied the Crown Prince in abundance, the prize provided the Germans with 1,800 tons of coal and two British 120-mm guns, although without ammunition. The economical Thierfelder immediately ordered the installation of captured cannons on the poop of the liner to be used for training gunners and for firing warning shots using modified salute charges.

On October 14, the destruction of the prize was completed, the La Correntina's kingstons were opened, the ship capsized and disappeared from the surface. The crew and a few passengers of the British steamer kept company with the prisoners from the Indian Prince.
The successful hunt for "Crown Prince Wilhelm" infuriated the British public and even became the subject of parliamentary hearings. The press was throwing thunder and lightning. The British fleet redoubled its efforts to capture the raider.

Thierfelder continued his actions against Allied shipping. In the five months after the sinking of La Correntina, the list of victims of the Crown Prince was replenished with thirteen ships with a total tonnage of 49,000 tons. The effect was not only economic - the British Admiralty was forced to constantly maintain four to five mobile groups in the central and southern Atlantic, whose main task was to catch German raiders and supply ships.

The activity of "Kronprinz Wilhelm" significantly complicated the delivery of food products and raw materials from South Africa and South America to England and France, which, in turn, immediately affected the morale of the allies, primarily the civilian population - the episode with "La Correntina" confirmed this perfectly. Thanks to her high speed and excellent seaworthiness, as well as the talent and instincts of her commander, Kronprinz Wilhelm successfully evaded interception, continuing her truly stellar career.

But by mid-March 1915, for several reasons, the Kronprinz Wilhelm's career as a raider was jeopardized. Firstly, the liner’s machines needed major repairs - they were simply not designed for such long-term operation without proper preventive maintenance. The hull structures also needed repairs, especially the plating on the port side, to which the prize ships were moored. The liner's crew, consisting mainly of civilian sailors, was exhausted by constant fear of pursuit and hard work, as well as an almost constant lack of fresh food and fresh water - the liner's desalination plants had little capacity and were highly saline. By the end of March, about forty people from the raider’s team were in the hospital diagnosed with tropical fever. These people were provided with proper care, but there was no one and nothing to treat them - there was neither a therapist nor appropriate medications on board the Crown Prince.
And finally, starting in January 1915, taught by the bitter experience of the first months of the war, the British Admiralty began to assemble its military transports into convoys and give them a powerful escort of warships. There was nothing to oppose such a convoy. The hunt for supply ships also intensified, as a result of which their network on the Atlantic was greatly thinned.

On March 28, 1915, the Kronprinz Wilhelm stopped its latest victim, the British 3,800-ton steamer Colby. After the destruction and sinking of the prize, the raider set off to rendezvous with the supply ship Macedonia, which was waiting for the Crown Prince 200 miles north of the mouth of the Amazon. After the liner was bunkered and supplied with food, and the prisoners were transferred to the Macedonia, Thierfelder decided to break through to Norway or, if he was lucky, across the North Sea to Germany.
But these plans were not destined to come true.

British naval intelligence figured out the location of the Macedonia, and while Kronprinz Wilhelm was still in line of sight, the supply ship was captured by two British light cruisers. Thierfelder managed to escape unidentified: when the lookouts noticed enemy warships on the horizon, the raider was oriented with his nose towards them, not “glowing” with his characteristic four-pipe silhouette. Thierfelder ordered a "full reverse" and was able to disappear unidentified over the horizon. For several more days, the raider remained near the rendezvous point in the hope of meeting with another supply person and completing the bunkering. But the supply ship never showed up, there were insufficient coal reserves for the crossing of the Atlantic, and fever was raging among the crew. Under these conditions, Thierfelder decided to go to the nearest neutral port and intern.

The American Newport News was chosen as the destination. On the night of April 10, the liner was 60 miles from the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay. Several British warships were patrolling in neutral waters, but the German commander had extensive experience in evading meetings with them; fortunately, the British did not observe radio silence. The team took their places according to the combat schedule, and the liner, having developed full speed, rushed to the breakthrough. Taking advantage of the darkness of the night, Thierfelder sailed his ship between two cruisers patrolling the waters off Cape Henry, and at 10 a.m. on April 11, battered and with paint peeling off its sides, the Kronprinz Wilhelm entered the Chesapeake Bay and was greeted with a salute from American warships.

(The interned Kronprinz (left) in Philadelphia, side by side with another German ship, the Prinz Eitel Friedrich)

Thus ended the raiding career of one of the most successful German auxiliary cruisers, which covered more than 37 and a half thousand nautical miles from August 1914 to April 1915 and destroyed 15 Entente ships with a tonnage of 60,522 tons.
A few hours after the liner arrived in Newport News, the German Imperial Embassy asked the American side to repair the liner at a shipyard in Norfolk and return it to Germany. Naturally, the request was rejected, and the liner was interned. The Kronprinz was transferred to a shipyard in Philadelphia and laid up next to another North German Lloyd steamship, Prinz Eitel Friedrich.
German flags continued to fly on the ships, but the crews were transported to an internment camp, and the only inhabitants of the German ships were several dozen shipyard workers.