Charting New Guinea; Attack on Hollandia; Berlin Memories; Royal Exit

CHARTING NEW GUINEA

It was in the Napoleonic wars that the Hydrographic Service of the Royal Navy came into being, and at once made itself popular by producing charts which were issued gratis to H.M. ships.  This prosaic duty might not appear very important today, but at that time the innovation was most welcome, as it relieved the captain and the master (as the navigator was then termed) of the duty of providing his own charts.  This duty was both tiresome and expensive, and because charts of that day were priced in guineas.

Often at five or ten guineas, in an age when guineas were golden guineas - few mariners could afford the luxury of owning good charts.

Thus, when these old sea dogs found prize money scarce and it became necessary to get along on bare Navy pay, the choice of purchasing a half hogshead of rum or some new charts of the English Channel, or, on the other hand, if a decision had to be reached between a pipe of Madeira wine and a set of charts on the Atlantic seaboard of North America, the answer was never in doubt.

It can well be imagined that many hoary relics of cartographical skill - water-stained and arrack-stained to a point of illegibility did the duty of charts on board H.M. ships. Thus, by the service of supplying charts, the Hydrographic Office, from the first, gained appreciation, and in time the profession of nautical surveying was looked upon as a most worthy occupation for a naval officer in time of peace.

On the outbreak of the Crimean war a surveying vessel, H.M. paddle-ship Lightning, was attached to the Baltic Fleet, but the Admiral, one of the old school, remarked that "he did not know what it came out for, or what was the use of a surveying ship, unless to make a fire vessel of". In point of fact, the Lightning was used for bringing off potatoes and beef. This Cinderella-like duty the surveyors patiently bore until, later in the campaign, the Admiral retracted his earlier statement and found that the surveying ship was an important factor in guiding his fleet through the intricate waters of the Baltic.

Although the surveying service performed some meritorious service in the Great War Of 1914-18, little spectacular surveying was needed, except to buoy channels through minefields, and carry out work of a similar nature. For most of the time the surveyors were employed in the general service of the Royal Navy, with the result that in outlying parts of the world, such as Australia, hydrographic surveying was abandoned entirely during these war years.

In the early years of this war, following the precedent of the Royal Navy Surveying Service, our surveying personnel were largely scattered in the general service of the R.A.N., but spasmodically some important surveys were made. While it has not been recorded that our surveying vessel, H.M.A.S. Moresby, was employed fetching beef or potatoes, she was for a period engaged on non-surveying work of a necessary but mundane nature.

When the operations were being planned, about September 1942, to evict the Japanese from Buna, it was found that to reach Buna was no easy problem. It was not possible to carry heavy equipment over the difficult Kokoda Trail, and sea-borne transport was considered the only practical method for carrying sufficient men and equipment to the fighting area. Two sea-routes were open to use by Allied shipping. One to the east and north of the Trobriand Islands was a deep-sea route, fairly clear of navigational dangers, but could not be used at that stage without exposing

our forces to disastrous attacks from enemy aircraft and submarines. In addition, it would be necessary to wait until sufficient amphibious craft were available in the area, as an attack to the north of Buna could only be made in force.

The other route was through the inner waters-the channel between the D'Entrecasteaux Islands and the mainland of New Guinea, past Capes Vogel and Nelson to Oro Bay, where forces could be assembled to drive on to Buna by land. This route was judged comparatively safe from the menace of submarines, and it was considered possible to build up sufficient forces to the south of Buna without delay by the use of merchant ships and without waiting for large numbers of special amphibious craft to arrive in this area. It was, however, an unknown and unsurveyed route, little frequented by shipping, and reported to contain many navigational dangers little known and inaccurately charted.

The duty of surveying this route was undertaken in November by two small vessels, H.M.A.Ss Polaris and Stella, under the command of Lieut.-Commander G. D. Tancred, and Lieutenant J. J. Cody, R.A.N. These two ships were joined shortly after by H.M.A.S. Whyalla, under the command of Lieut.-Commander K. E. Oom, R.A.N. On the personnel of these three vessels fell the arduous duties, during the following six months, of fulfilling the requirements of this surveying programme, during which the surveyors and men worked hard for long hours. fixing and running lines of soundings, erecting beacons, and observing under most difficult conditions.

It is not proposed to deal minutely with the results of these surveys, as such details would not be of general interest, but it is well known that in a remarkably short period a route was surveyed through Raven Channel to Goschen Strait, to the confined area in Ward Hunt Strait, and through the tortuous waters around Cape Nelson to Oro Bay. Everywhere coral patches were located and their position promulgated

for the information of ships proceeding to Oro Bay, where during December 1942, having been guided by the surveying vessels, troops and equipment were landed for the attack on Buna.

During this period Japanese aerial activity was still strong and as yet unbroken. As it was necessary for the surveying vessels to work in waters adjacent to enemy-held territory, they were frequently spotted by enemy aircraft, and several bombing attacks were made on the harbours while the surveys were in progress. It was often necessary to take cover by concealment along the steep foreshores of these bays, and the unwelcome sojourns amongst the mangroves were responsible for the large incidence of malaria among the surveying personnel, to a proportion unusual in a warship.

In January 1943, while the Whyalla was anchored in that deep inlet, Maclaren Harbour, on the Cape Nelson Peninsula, a force of twenty Japanese dive bombers approached undetected and attacked in a most determined manner.  The Whyalla had field parties away, and her two tenders, Stella and Polaris, were sounding off the harbour entrance. Several bombs near-missed the Whyalla, which suffered damage from splinters and two casualties-members of the bridge Oerlikon crew who were seriously wounded.

The splashes from these near misses raised several tons of water which deluged the bridge, and washed over the side the plotting sheets upon which the commanding officer was working.

They were recovered later, floating on the surface, and although legible, the accuracy of the drawings was affected by their immersion in water and the whole work had to be replotted - an extra labour which could only be relieved by violent expletives against all Japanese and an ever-lingering hope of some chance for inflicting reprisals. On other occasions surveying vessels were near-missed by bombs, but no other casualties were sustained.

Surveys were made for the task force occupying the interesting Trobriand Island, and passages were surveyed in the waters adjacent to the picturesque and beautiful D'Entrecasteaux Islands and the remarkable Amphlett Group.

During the campaign many ships navigating unwisely in unsurveyed areas, discovered new shoals by the old-time method-that is by hitting the submerged dangers. On occasions incautious navigation caused vessels to hit dangers already charted by the surveyors, and as many of these stranded vessels failed to get off, they became permanent navigational marks and a caution "to encourage the others".

The survey of Milne Bay, that extraordinarily deep gulf, was commenced by the Whyalla and finished later by other vessels. Some parts of Milne Bay had been surveyed by the surveyors of H.M.S. Dart as far back as 1885, but much of it required re-examination by modem methods. This was especially emphasized by the re-survey of Killertan Anchorage, which had previously been examined by Lieutenants Dawson and Messum of H.M.S. Dart in 1886. In the southern entrance, right on the leading line, a rock with only eight feet of water covering it was discovered. On weighing -anchor next morning and proceeding out through the eastern entrance in the first light of dawn, the Whyalla discovered a fairly extensive reef by running aground on it. Where the previous surveyors had marked thirteen fathoms, was found a reef a hundred yards in width with less than three feet of water covering it.

During the next forty-eight hours, until the Whyalla floated off, unaided and undamaged, the surveyors had time to ruminate on the problem: "Did the coral grow out of over seventy feet of water in that time, or were the oysters on the reef so good, that the earlier surveyors wished to keep the news hidden from other hungry seamen?" In honour of this unique event the two discoveries were called Messum Rock and Dawson Reef, which, although contravening accepted principles in nomenclature and awarding honour to whom it was least due, gave a subtle feeling of satisfaction, if not an answer to the above conundrum.

As operations advanced northwards, the strength of the surveying service was augmented by the addition of H.M.A.S. Shepparton, and later, in June 1942, by H.M.A.S. Benalla, which replaced Whyalla. In addition, a number of tenders was assigned to the group and at the end of 1943 H.M.A.S. Moresby was commissioned for surveying duties. Thus, as time went on, the force increased considerably in numbers, with the consequent increase in the scope of the surveying service's activities.

Valuable surveys were made in that part of the New Guinea coastline between Buna and Vitiaz Strait, which up to that time had remained practically unsurveyed. In this area soundings up to 2,000 fathoms were obtained by the use of sonic sounding methods, and interesting delineations were made of the edge of the continental shelf in this part of New Guinea. Great submarine canyons or sea valleys were discovered leading right in close to the land, and probably had been scoured out of the continental shelf by the action of water from the New Guinea rivers. It was also found that everywhere along the 100 fathom line or along the edge of the continental shelf, coral patches rose precipitously from deep water. 

Great use was made of Asdic, to discover coral patches which otherwise might have been missed, and as a result of experience gained in this survey, and from reports from other parts of the South-west Pacific, it has been stated that all surveys made before 1933 in coral-infested waters will require examination by these modem methods before they can be confidently declared safe for deep-draught shipping.

Another important part of the surveying service's undertakings has been the establishment of navigational aids in the New Guinea area, where before the war few aids existed. To achieve this purpose and to carry out the maintenance of buoys and lights, lighthouse tenders were taken over and assigned to the surveying service. These vessels have carried out an important service with efficiency and cheerfulness in the face of many difficulties.

One of these difficulties is well worthy of record. H.M.A.S. Cape Leeuwin was assigned the duty of erecting a light on Mitre Rock, a well-known landmark in the north-east coast of New Guinea. This rock, which is forty feet high, is almost inaccessible, and only by erecting a special ladder was the upper portion of the rock reached. A midshipman was sent aloft to get through the undergrowth, and to secure to the summit a rope by which access could be achieved. He had not penetrated far before he was aware of the million or so "local inhabitants" - a particularly vicious type of ant, rare to the coast - which set on him with enthusiasm as being probably the first meat they had encountered on that barren rock. 

In order to get down he had first to secure the rope, and thus was forced to carry on to the summit. When this duty was done, the watchers below were startled to see the midshipman fling himself out of the undergrowth, almost set fire to the rope as he slid down, and then without pause dive into the sea. Subsequently it was found that no white man could work on top, and that even natives, who were requisitioned to cut down the undergrowth, went on a sit-down strike and refused to "work belong bloody Navy". Finally the ants were only got rid of by burning off the top with the assistance of fuel oil, petrol and cordite. A light now exists on this important mark and is a most useful guide to shipping.

While surveying in the Admiralty Islands, the surveyors came under rifle-fire from the Japanese troops ashore, but the only casualty sustained in this area was from more indirect causes by enemy action. A hydrographic surveyor well known in New Guinea and well versed in all the varied habits of both the natives and the fauna of the Territory, was observing angles near a native village when he sighted a boar. Thinking it tame, he took little notice. The placid nature of the pig, however, had been upset, firstly by Japanese intentions on its ultimate fate, and secondly by the bombing, and to the intense disgust of this intrepid New Guinea explorer the boar attacked and gashed him in the leg.

His colleagues have suggested that he should now apply for a wound stripe, considering that, in the cause of duty, he hesitated too long in order to save his theodolite and thereby failed to reach the nearest tree. The work of the surveying service continues with the forward operations and movements of the South-west Pacific campaign, and these surveyors hope that at no distant date they will be bringing up to date the charts of the approaches to Tokyo Bay. LIEUT.-COMMANDER G.C.I., R.A.N. (ret.)

THE ATTACK ON HOLLANDIA

As before the Arawe landing, Wewak, Aladang and Gasmata were hot favourites. Yet in similar manner our gallant ship's company were to be proved equally wrong.

The troops we were to take were units of the Sixth Army. They were tough and well trained, yet had very little "ship-to-shore" experience so we proceeded to train them in this type of warfare. After some days of net and boat drills, we weighed anchor and proceeded to a position twelve miles east of Lae to carry out a rehearsal of the big attack. The force was under the command of Rear-Admiral Fectheler, U.S.N. The rehearsal was carried out on Red Beach, one of the beaches used in the attack on Lae last year. We rehearsed all Easter Saturday and were quite satisfied with our efforts. A few minor mistakes showed up and were speedily corrected.

At 1700 one day in April we sailed from Cape Cretin with the White Attack Force which was to attack Humboldt Bay, six hundred and twenty miles west of Finschhafen. There were to be three simultaneous landings. The Red landing was to be at Tanah Merah Bay, twenty-seven miles west of Hollandia. The troops landed here would drive straight for the Hollandia airfields. The aim of the Blue landing was to capture Aitape, one hundred and sixteen miles to the east of Hollandia. R.A.A.F. units were to go with them. Our job was to capture the base and port of Hollandia, on Humboldt Bay.

Red landing force was the biggest, and included the two other R.A.N. Landing Ships Kanimbla and Manoora. Australia, Shropshire, Arunta, Warramunga and U.S.N. units were to escort it. It was led by Rear-Admiral Barbey, U.S.N., in the destroyer Swanson, which was at the Casablanca and Sicily landings. As at the rehearsal, our force was led by Rear Admiral Fectheler in the destroyer Reid. Blue landing force was led by Captain Noble, U.S.N., in the destroyer La Valette. 

Lieutenant-General Eichelberger commanded the troops at Tanah Merah Bay, Major-General Fuller (former U.S. attaché at Paris) the troops at Hollandia, and Brigadier General Doe those at Aitape. Lieutenant-General Krueger attended the Aitape landing in the destroyer Wilkes, while General MacArthur made us very happy by coming to our landing in a U.S. cruiser. By the time the whole force had formed up it numbered roughly 170 ships, including aircraft-carriers.

Although the three landings were part of the one operation, I can only speak at first hand of the one in which we, took part. After many alterations of course to fool the enemy, midnight preceding D-Day found us steering a course for Humboldt Bay. The Red and Blue forces had left us. Ahead was a glow in the sky caused by large fires at our goal, over forty miles away. These fires had been started by our bombers. A 0500 we were off the entrance to Humboldt Bay and commencing to disembark our troops. Large fires raged ashore. 

It looked as if the site of the enemy's biggest New Guinea base had suffered some devastating blows. At 0535 the first streaks of dawn appeared, and we could make out Cape Djar and Cape Soeadji, the two headlands through which you must pass to enter the bay. They looked nice positions for guns, yet no fire greeted us. One of our soldiers fell overboard and was rescued by a ship coming up astern.

At o6oo the three six-inch cruisers opened fire, and what a spectacle it was. They were so disposed inside the bay as to be able to bombard at ease the most important targets. There were many tracer shells. No fireworks display I have ever seen was as

thrilling * as this. As many of the projectiles, were visible to us we followed them right into the enemy positions. The fire was very accurate, and Japs and their equipment were blown sky-high. At o640 the destroyers joined in the bombardment, and at o655 bombers from the carriers lent a hand. The crew of one enemy gun were later found sprawled dead about their weapon. Each man appeared to have been knocked on the head. 

The rising sun dripped red with Nipponese blood. No troops could stand and face such murderous fire, and the Japs showed no intention of doing so. Most of them incontinently fled. Our troops found food cooking over fires in their camps and dug-outs. No attempt was made at demolition. Valuable stores, such as aircraft engines and wings, parachutes, naval and army guns, lathes and 400-pound bombs, were found scattered everywhere. The Jap was token completely by surprise. It is thought he expected us to attack Wewak first.

At 0700, when the only thing alive on the foreshore could be insects, the U.S. troops landed at three beaches. At two of the beaches our troops were the first to land. The men raced over the sand between Cape Pie and Cape Tjoberi, and along the eastern shore of Cape Tjeweri. Mangrove swamps were just inshore; but the troops were prepared for this, thanks to good aerial photographs and intelligence. The few remaining Japs were quickly mopped up, and when at o8oo we moved In to within a mile east of Cape Pie the enemy had been chased well inland. While the larger landing craft beached and disgorged men and equipment, naval aircraft bombed and strafed ahead of the troops.

Before long, bombs and cannon shells from the planes had set alight to ammunition and fuel dumps hidden in the scrub underneath the palms. Fires ringed the bay, the thick black smoke and explosions issuing from them spelling the end of much of the enemy's vital stores. A huge store of rice was set alight and burnt all day. Through binoculars, we could see smoldering equipment and gutted warehouses, proof of the effectiveness of previous bombings. Once-green palms looked like black poles stuck in the ground. In places was utter desolation, contrasting with the lush tropical growth near by.

The cruisers and destroyers kept up intermittent fire at targets ashore with H.E. shell. The town-ship of Hollandia received much attention and soon smoke from burning oil dumps there was rising to a height Of 4,000 feet. These ships thoroughly enjoyed their shooting. Several score of Jap barges in Imbi and Jautefa Bays made nice targets. One destroyer trapped a large Jap barge against a cliff face and let go with every gun she had. The barge was tough, and did not sink for some time.

On the summit of Cape Soeadji, at a height of 650 feet, we could see a gun position. It was well hidden, but could be seen with glasses. The U.S. cruiser Phoenix wrote finish to it. A destroyer closed the shore and demolished a pillbox with one salvo. The five Japs inside never knew what hit them. We could see a number of native villages, the houses built out over the water on piles. The main ones were Jembe, Entsjau, Engros, Holtekang and Tobati. No fire was directed at these, however, as they were presumed to be deserted. In previous Pacific landings, the natives had suddenly left the district on the day prior to D-Day. It is amazing how they know. Before the Japs came here almost two years ago the native population of the place was 7000, with a further 15,000 in adjoining districts.

All the forenoon, while discharging the 550 tons of equipment in our holds, we expected attacks from Jap aircraft. Wewak was only a half-hour's flying time away, Madang about an hour. In the other direction Ambon was about two hours away for a fast plane. But no Jap aircraft came, although we had many false alarms. Scores of Allied aircraft were overhead all day, the sky was dotted with them. They were always circling about waiting to be called down by the troops to bomb or strafe a stubborn enemy post. It was nice to watch sticks of bombs falling, and know they were dropping on Japs. We had got that way by now. 

Being so close to the shore we got all the noise of battle. The strafing was interesting to watch, as with the tracer shells you could see them strike objects and ricochet up through the coconut palms. Often I thought shells from one aircraft would rise up and hit the next ahead. They went very close. I do not think those Navy fliers worried much about such trifles. At times they sped below the level of the tops of the palms seeking Jap positions. There were occasional bursts of ack-ack fire which were quite ineffective; we could see the bursts well clear of our aircraft.

About the middle of the forenoon we saw, a long way off, U.S. soldiers climbing a winding trail leading to the 730 feet high, bald crest of Mount Leimok. When they reached the top we cheered softly to ourselves. From then on, men climbed that trail all our stay. The other troops were advancing in forest or scrub, so we did not sight them unless they crossed one of the many clearings which abound in the hinterland. On the western side of the bay General Sherman tanks were operating. Infantry near here found a large store full of Jap beer and cider. Evidently the enemy was determined to settle here in comfort. I think these beverages were disposed of very quickly.

One officer had a narrow escape. He was standing in the open with a bottle of beer in his hand when it was shattered by a sniper's bullet. The troops advancing toward Hollandia made rapid progress. One important task of theirs was to capture 1,100 feet high Jarramoh Hill, which by reason of its height and position dominated both the town and the harbour. Hollandia nestles in a flat-bottomed valley one mile to the north-west. Normally it is a quiet Dutch colonial outpost where ships and flying boats occasionally called. Native gardens and plantations adjoin it, bordered by unexplored jungle.

No matter how far the troops advanced, however, they halted sharp at 1500. This was the field order of Major General Fuller, a shrewd tactician and a wise leader. He knew that in this type of warfare, relatively new to military minds, troops must cease advancing in the afternoon and wire themselves in for the night. Each unit runs barbed wire around itself, digs foxholes and lays out lanes of machine-gun fire, then mans its own defences. Thus Japs, infiltrating during the night as they invariably do, find a series of strong positions, instead of a scattered assembly of men waiting to be shot.

Despite the fact that the Japs had sworn to get Westralia (three months previously Tokyo Radio broadcast that the ship had been sunk) not a shot was fired at us. All shore defences had been knocked out by the preliminary bombardment. We were the largest ship of Task Group 77.2 and sat in that none-too big harbour all day. It was rather like a wildfowl grounded in a clearing, a sitting shot for all. And fully aware were we of the honour bestowed upon us by the Force Commander in allowing us to expose ourselves thus. The ship's company remained at action stations all day, and thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this historic occasion. They'll not forget D-Day at Hollandia for many a year.

As we heard that the harbour was probably mined, U.S. minesweepers searched it before we were allowed to enter. Our boats saw much excitement. One of them carried two prisoners, wizened little Japs with sores on their feet, from Cape Tjeweri to Beach One, behind Hamadi Island. These Japs had been dug out of a pillbox destroyed by rocket projectiles, and were immediately taken before U.S. staff officers for interrogation. The Americans were very anxious to know all about the 6,000 troops that were garrisoned here. 

That they had left in a hurry was obvious, as officers had even left their watches and coats behind. In their quarters, books and clothes were found. There were signs on every hand that most of the garrison had moved inland in large parties at the commencement of the bombardment. Some had gone to the three airstrips ten miles to the west. These strips, Hollandia (bomber), Cyclops (fighter) and Sentani (bomber) were known to be heavily defended, and were a great prize. The Americans knew they would not be captured without stiff fighting. Aerial photographs revealed strong defences.

One of the sights of the day was when a 2,000-ton Jap tanker received a direct hit from a bomb dropped by a Navy bomber, whilst alongside the wharf at Pim. Clouds of thick black smoke, with angry red flames at the base, rose from her decks to a height of 2,000 feet. She burned for hours, only three miles from where we were anchored.

It was a memorable day. We were off the beach for nine hours. By 1500 we had cleared the heads. Humboldt Bay was ours. The troops had captured large tracts of surrounding country. A fine port, in which fifty cargo ships could anchor, had fallen into our hands for a mere few dozen casualties. It occupied a strategic position on the northern coast of New Guinea, with only five miles west of it the largest fresh-water lake on the island. Considerable Jap equipment fell into our hands. The landings at Tanah Merah Bay and Aitape were equally successful. There was less opposition at the former. At Aitape the airstrip was taken after six and a half hours' fighting.

Altogether over 700 sea-borne aircraft covered the landings. Arrangements were made to move two squadrons of Kittyhawks into Aitape. Later nearly 10,000 Navy and Army construction engineers moved in to build strips, roads and bases. Staff officers considered that in ten days a large base would be in operation at Hollandia, with such routine matters as paying the troops in progress. The total number of troops landed at the three points was almost 50,000. As a result of this over 60,000 Japs were trapped between Madang and Aitape with little chance of escape. Only two alternatives remained for them. To stay where they were and die of bombs and starvation or mass at one base, say Wewak, and fight it out to an honourable end. A few of them might escape by submarine; but only a handful of senior officers and technicians would escape this way.

The whole operation was a masterpiece of planning. When the huge convoy steamed on its journey it could have been bound for any one of half a dozen places, apart from points on the northern coast of New Guinea. Under cover of night we had altered course to our three destinations. When daylight came, the navigation of these big convoys proved to be faultless.

When we finally reached the open sea again we were tired but happy. We had taken part in the first Allied landing on Jap-held Dutch territory. One thing was apparent to us. It is almost impossible for any troops to hold a shore against a determined assault. Even shell and bombproof positions cannot save them, as Tarawa showed. Perhaps the thought uppermost in the minds of the captain, and his officers and men, was that if victories could be thus won the power of Imperial Japan in the South-west Pacific was coming to an end. Also, ringing in our minds, was the simple, congratulatory signal from the Admiral commanding the central Attack Force: "Many thanks for a fine job." We would like to have replied: "We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves." Naval ethics would hardly allow this, however.

By Friday the 28th April all three airstrips had been taken. Two hundred and seventy four Japs had been killed, twenty prisoners taken. The remainder had withdrawn inland. In six days, victory was complete. So the biggest Pacific invasion up to that time, was successful, and the R.A.N. was there.

"AMPHIBIAN."

SEATONE

• Grey dawn, and a long uneven sea. 
  • Scarlet tint in blue, hue, 
  • Sullen shallows, and white crest swirl, 
  • Pastel blush and mother o' pearl, 
  • Blue of eternity.
• Royal blue and Reckitts blue. 
  • Sun and sky, and nothing else. 
  • Fullness and emptiness. 
  • Nothing old or new.
• Sway and whip of masts a-rake, 
  • Slow roll from the south. 
  • Spray-swept fo'c'sle and dipping deck. 
  • Sky-silk and cloud fleck, 
  • Soapsuds in the wake.
• Brazen sun and bilious moon, 
  • Lift and lull, swing and sway, 
  • Day is night and night is day, 
  • Sometime is soon.

ABLE SEAMAN C.L.B. P.M.4677

BERLIN MEMORIES

But the Nazis inherited the idea, developed it and received the support of the German Army and its generals in exploiting it to the full. Hitler led the Nazi Party to power on a flood of oratory, but if it had not been Hitler the Army would have found someone else.

Anyone adversely reported on ran grave risk of being sent for and beaten up in one of the Brownshirt or Blackshirt offices, and anyone failing to contribute adequately to a current appeal would probably lose the wheels off his car, or would find that the whole of his office staff had been conscripted for the labour battalions. An even better joke was for him to be told that his staff was inadequate and overworked, and he would have half a dozen Brownshirt loafers planted on him to keep and pay for a month or two, or until his contribution reached a sufficiently  high standard.

The elections provided another source of danger to opponents of the regime. Officially they were carried out by secret ballot, but it was common knowledge, or at any rate common rumour. that voters were handed numbered envelopes with their voting papers inside so that their vote could be checked afterwards. There was another peculiarity about the elections: they were not held to elect anybody. Usually all that the voter was required to do was to state whether or not he agreed with Hitler's policy. 

In fact he was expected to subscribe to a vote of confidence. But whereas the instructions on the cards said clearly, "If you agree write 'Yes' ", there were no instructions what to do if you didn't agree. The police who guarded the booths explained to people who had the courage to ask that if they did not agree they should put a cross, when, in fact, they should have put a "No". A cross meant an informal vote; so that usually the final result was 97 per cent in favour, 2 per cent informal, and a miserable, but courageous, minority of 1 per cent against.

One of the first things the Nazis did when they acquired power was to restore the German people's confidence in themselves, and to teach them to be independent. This was of great importance for their future plans, but it had an intimate effect on the life of the people in a minor way. Signs appeared everywhere, on posters, on notice boards in restaurants, written on hoardings, that "German people don't do this" or that "German women don't do that". 

There was an occasion when one of the junior secretaries of the Embassy went into a restaurant and found written on the wall-mirror above his table "Die deutschen Damen schmincken nicht", which means that German women do not make up. This was quite true: they were not allowed to use rouge or lip-stick and they had to brush their hair straight back, so that most of them looked extraordinarily plain. The secretary got a piece of chalk and wrote under the notice "Schade" which means "And what a pity "

The Nazis also started to clear up the night life of Berlin, which had become extremely sordid, and to remove beggars from the streets. When we first arrived the streets were full of beggars, and grim poverty could be found round any corner. An organization called "Winterhilfe" (Winter Help) had been formed in the bad days of the depression.

Everyone who had anything had given to this, and it had been well run, and had done a lot of good. The Nazis abolished visible poverty, and took over Winterhilfe. All who could work were found work, those who couldn't were put away somewhere in the country where they couldn't be seen. It became an offence to beg and the Nazis were, justifiably, proud of the improvement they had made. But appeals for the Winterhilfe went on just the same and they were frequently accompanied by threats.

Wagons, manned by Hitler's Brownshirts, paid house to house visitations demanding money, food and clothing for the poor, and woe betide the poor German who did not give enough. These wagons always came on weekdays, when the man of the house was at work, and the blustering Prussian in charge would so terrorize the poor hausfrau that she would often give much more than her husband could afford.

The Nazi leaders made a great show of opening the Winterhilfe season in November of each year. Goering, Goebbels, Baldur von Shirach, Himmler and others would take collecting boxes round the streets in which their offices were situated, and into the foyers of the fashionable hotels. If you were a German you were just too unlucky if you happened to be drinking a bock or a stein in the Kaiserhof when Goebbels came in with a collecting box. 

The joke (doubtful) about it all was that none of the money collected went to the poor, but to the Party funds. Rumour had it that Goering built the great new Air Ministry out of the Winterhilfe collection of 1933. Winterhilfe, which had been organized for the relief of suffering humanity, had become one of the greatest ramps ever perpetrated by any Government on its deluded people.

One day in my office I received a truly "kolossal" envelope containing an invitation card engraved in gold from the "Herr Minister President von Preussen", Air Marshal Goering, inviting the "Hochwohlgeborener Englischer Marine Attaché und anddige Frau" to an evening party at the famous Opera House, followed by a champagne supper as the guests of the Minister President of Prussia. Extracts from the programme, and notes about the composers and conductors were enclosed and evidently it was to be a great evening. There was also an acceptance card which I began to fill in, when I discovered a little note in the left-hand bottom corner: "Tickets 40 marks each [about three guineas]: for the Winterhilfe." It was a stunt of Goering's to raise money, and no German who received such an invitation would dare to refuse.

We disliked this ramp so much that we decided not to go, and did not even answer the invitation, but stuck it in our scrap-book. A few days before the performance I was rung up by the private secretary to the Minister President, who said that the Minister was much distressed to observe that he had had no reply from the highborn Attaché to his invitation to the opera. However, anticipating acceptance, seats had been reserved and tickets would be for-warded on receipt of cheque. The highborn Attaché did some quick thinking and replied that there must be some terrible mistake. Had not the Herr Minister received a letter saying that to their deep regret the Attaché and his wife would be absent from Berlin on the night of the opera? 

Mutual and insincere regrets were exchanged, with some unmerited criticism of the post office, and the conversation terminated hurried home and told my wife to pack, and we left for Dresden early next morning, taking care that the social columns of the newspapers should record our departure.

Soon after our arrival in 1933 the Ambassador, who was also a newcomer, took the staff to be presented to the old President, Field-Marshal Hindenburg, at the President's Palace in the Wilelmstrasse. The President was an old man, distinguished-looking, though rather bent and looking his years. He had ceased to wear uniform, and on this occasion wore a civilian frock coat and dark-grey trousers. He received the Ambassador first, who then presented the rest of the staff, starting with the Charge' d'Affaires, and then going on to the Service Attaché's and the other members. The only person with whom he exchanged more than a word or two was the Military Attaché, with whom he chatted for several minutes. He always liked talking to soldiers about soldiers and war.

When the ceremony was over we escorted the Ambassador to his car and he drove off past a well-turned-out guard, escorted by a motor police escort, although the Embassy was only a few hundred yards along the Wilelmstrasse. Before leaving, the Charge' d'Affaires, on behalf of the Ambassador, had to tip the uniformed butler who had been looking after his hat and gloves. This was a universal practice in Germany, and, indeed, in all the northern States of Europe. 

Whenever you went to a meal with friends, or even to a tea- or cocktail-party, you had to leave a tip for the servants. It used to be a mark for a meal and fifty pfennig for any other party. It is not a bad idea because it makes your servants appreciate parties. More than once our maids came to us and asked if it were not about time that we had another, that they wanted a new hat or a visit to the pictures.

On one occasion the Ambassador went to see the President on some important business, and this time he took his hat up with him, and put it on a table in the reception room. A secretary came in and said that the President would not keep the Ambassador more than a minute.  He then saw the hat and removed it to a corner out of sight, and said apologetically, "It would never do, Your Excellency, to leave it there. The President would be sure to sign it. He signs everything these days." He was, indeed, fading fast, and soon retired to his country home where he died soon after-wards, leaving Hitler undisputed ruler of Germany.

Hindenburg was buried in great state in the Great War Memorial at Tannenberg, which had been erected to commemorate his victory over the Russians in 1914- We all went to the ceremony, which was most imposing and carried out with all the German love of detail.

There were, however, two unrehearsed incidents. Round the memorial were seven towers; on the top of each was a tank of burning oil, representing funeral pyres. In the middle of the ceremony, in full view of thousands of spectators, an old workman who was tending one of the pyres walked out from behind his tank and gazed down on the spectacle. He was dressed in shabby blue overalls with his shirt hanging down outside his trousers. 

As he looked down upon us he yawned, hitched up his shirt, thrust a hairy arm down his trousers, and had a hearty scratch. The other incident occurred when Hitler was about to deliver the funeral oration. He rose and marched down to the dais. The audience rose too, and, giving the Hitler salute, poured out a thunderous welcome, "Sieg Heil, Sieg Heil, Sieg Heil," until he silenced them with a gesture. He mounted the dais, gave the Hitler salute himself, and took his notes from his A.D.C. 

He began with his usual opening words: "Mein deutsches Volk ... Then there was a pause; something was wrong. He closed his notes and began to speak ex tempore, and a fine speech he made too. But we found out after-wards that his A.D.C. had given him the notes of the speech he had made the previous evening. History does not relate what happened to the itchy workman and the careless officer, but popular opinion expected that they would be bound together and thrown on to, or into, one of the funeral pyres.

I had not been very pleased when I was appointed Naval Attaché to Berlin, as I still thought of the Germans as the "b-- Huns". My wife and I, therefore, took particular trouble to study the German case, and to acquire some sort of synthetic sympathy for the German people, if not for their rulers. This caused considerable amusement among the Embassy staff, who wondered politely how long we should preserve our fond illusions. It was not for long, for Huns must remain Huns, and the Germans themselves soon taught us that our sympathy was misplaced.

A short personal anecdote may prove the point. Shortly after our arrival we were bidden to an official dinner party at the home of the Naval Chief of Staff. We were asked at 8-30 p.m., and everyone else at 8.25 P.m. so that they should all be present when we arrived. These parties are always most formal, and when we arrived punctually at 8-30 we were solemnly paraded round the circle and presented to the many senior officers and their wives who had been gathered together to meet us. We then drank a small glass of sherry, and our host turned to me and said.

"Before we go in to dinner, Herr Captain, I have something to show you which I think will interest you very much." He led me into the next room, and swinging back a curtain displayed a large seascape in oils:

"That," said he, "is a picture of the German naval victory at the Skagerrak," (which is what the Germans called Jutland).

Though somewhat startled I managed to reply, "Beautiful, my dear Admiral; we have one even bigger than that in London. It is called 'The Defeat of the German Fleet at Jutland'."

This made a thoroughly good start to a chilly evening. Shortly afterwards I was invited to attend the victory celebrations at the Skagerrak memorial in the Siegallee in the Tiergarten.

Goering was the butt of most of the stories which circulated round Berlin. He was fat and happy-looking and his passion for uniforms and decorations resulted in a host of stories being told about him. It was reported that he gave his valet five marks for every good story he brought in about himself, and ten for every bad one about his rival Goebbels. His marriage to Emmy Sonnerman in the Dom Cathedral in Berlin produced quite a few. As the happy pair came down the steps of the cathedral some wag let out from the dome a flight of five storks, which flew down the Unter den Linden in front of the bridal car. After the wedding he and Emmy went down to a little village in Bavaria where they were not known, and, indeed, were not recognized. They took with them a little dachshund which he had given her as a wedding present. 

In Germany a dog licence is issued in the form of a metal disk which has on it the owner's name and address and the number of the licence. This must be worn on the dog's collar whenever it is out in the street. A dog found without a licence can be taken by the police to the nearest pound, from which it can only be released on production of the licence and payment of a fine.

On this occasion Goering and Emmy took the dog for a walk. They were stopped by a policemen who pointed out that the dog had no licence on its collar. Emmy turned to Goering and said:

"Hermann! I asked you to put the licence on Mizzi's collar."

"Did you, my dear," said Goering. "I don't remember. What was it like?"

"Don't be silly, Hermann. You must remember: I only gave it to you this morning. It's a round disk-like a medal. Ach! There it is. If you haven't pinned it on your chest next to the Iron Cross!"

Admiral Raeder, who rejoiced in the title of Oberbefehlshaber der Kriegsmarine, told me once that he had had a great deal of difficulty in persuading Hitler to become sea-minded. For a long time he would give the Army and the Air Force all they asked for, but it was hard to get anything for the Navy. At last they lured him down to Kiel, and he inspected the Fleet. He was greatly impressed and wanted to go to sea for manoeuvres, but the Admiral was rather anxious lest Hitler should be seasick. They kept him busy for a day or two waiting for a propitious weather report, and at last set forth. 

The weather remained perfect, Hitler was delighted, and later on when he returned to Berlin gave Admiral Raeder a blank cheque for all his naval requirements. Goering also took to the sea. and did a trip to Norway in one of the cruisers. On his way back the weather deteriorated and Goering was observed by one of the sailors leaning over the side "examining the draught marks". Later on the same sailor saw Goering coming along the deck towards him, and said to his mate, "Hier kommt der Hochfischfuttermeister!" (Here comes the great master fish-feeder), a remark that was overheard and earned him seven days cells for lèse-majesté.

On another occasion Hitler and the staff were inspecting the pocket-battleship Graf Spee. On the other side of the basin were two sailors in a copper punt touching up the bottom line of one of the cruisers. Looking round, one of them saw Goering put his head out of one of the mess-deck scuttles of the Graf Spee.

"Look, Fritz!" said he. "There's Goering, and I'm verdammt if he hasn't gone and hung a battleship round his neck this time."

I had only one prolonged conversation with Hitler himself. It was on the occasion of a State banquet which had been given in honour of Sir John Simon and his Mission, and at which Hitler presided. Afterwards a large reception was held in the President's Palace, in the course of which I had to act as interpreter between Goebbels and one of the Mission. A point was raised which required Hitler's approval, and Goebbels took us up to "Der Fuehrer" and we remained talking, there for some minutes. Goebbels then happened to turn away to speak to someone else:, and I found myself alone with Hitler. Being anxious to start the conversation on a non controversial topic I asked him if he ever went to the pictures. He replied that he did not often go to the public cinemas, but he saw a good many films in his private theatre. He went on:

"I saw a very good so-called British film recently. It was called 'The Bengal Lancer'."

I agreed, and asked why he used the words "so-called".

"Because it's about Englishmen, but is made in Hollywood. The principal character who plays the Bengal Lancer is an American. Even I, who can't speak English, know that he has an American accent; so have most of the others. If I were an Englishman, and had a story like that to tell, I would be ashamed not to make the film in England with English actors."

I could not but agree, and said I was glad he liked it.

"Yes! " he said, "I liked it very much. I have seen it six times. It is a remarkable film, and I have given orders that it is to be shown in every school in Germany. It will show my young men how the pure Aryan races handle the barbarians."

By this time Goebbels had turned back again and had overheard this part of the conversation, and he now chipped in: "Yes, mein Fuehrer, and it will teach them also to demand back their colonies."

This remark was quite successful in breaking up the party.

I left Berlin just as the Olympic games started in August 1936, and was given a final lunch party by Admiral Raeder and all the senior officers on the naval staff. As a parting gift I was presented with a photograph of Der Fuehrer, signed "Adolf Hitler", in a red velvet frame.

G.C.M.G. Rear-Admiral.

ROYAL EXIT

"JERRY BARRARD."

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