So, back to the story, we arrived on the morning of October 1 in Ventspil. We stepped onto the harbour bridge with our baggage. We explained our predicament to the harbour captain, a Latvian. After a two hour wait, two men approached us, who were Latvian police. We were escorted to the town sauna, which had been closed for some time. We stayed there until October 6, entirely under supervision and expense of our hosts the Latvian police. Naturally we were able to procure some extras since we had some money. Some of our party had taken army ration cards along, and bought with those, whatever was necessary at reasonable prices. I had left mine at home on the writing table.
On the morning of the 6th, we received directions to assemble at the harbour and board the ships that were to transport us to Gdynia (Gottenhaven, a harbour city in the Polish corridor, which was still under German control). At the bridge were side by side, two huge ships, probably training ships. The closest to the dock, bore the name “Nautic”, the other “Nordstern”. The number of people gathered on the docks had swelled to several hundred, mostly Latvians. There were also a large number of Estonian soldiers. My wife and I boarded the “Nautic”. As you can imagine, boarding of all passengers took well into the night. The Latvian police very generously looked after our nourishment needs right up until we were on board, even offering bread, cheese and butter as traveling meals.
We passed the time walking along the docks. Nearing the end of the day, I heard my name being called. The caller was a Tallinn lawyer friend, Johans Asund. He had boarded the ship “Nordstern” with his wife, and asked us to move our baggage from the “Nautic” to accompany them on the journey. According to him, the “Nordstern” was also more comfortable and cleaner. We went and examined his ship, and sure enough it was cleaner and looked to be more comfortable than the “Nautic”. But after discussing the move with my wife, we decided to stay on the “Nautic”. It was just too exhausting and an administrative hassle to switch at this late hour.
At 6:00 pm we started to move away from the docks, “Nordstern” in front followed by our ship the “Nautic”. Trailing behind us was a gunboat. One of the ship’s officers informed us that we were traveling through dangerous waters and his advice was to not go to sleep before 2:00 am. After 2:00 we would be beyond Memeli (Klaipeda) and free of danger. Only then was it advisable to fall asleep. So that is what we did. To make time pass quicker, we found ourselves some bridge partners and played until 2:00 am. Since I still felt a little ill, and with a fever, I was given a sleeping cot in the infirmary. My wife spent the night nearby on the mid deck, covered with my winter coat. In the morning about 8:00 am she came to my area with some breakfast. I fell back asleep, still dreamy and pondering our next moves.
At exactly 10:15 am there was a huge explosion that shook our ship. We jumped from our cots and ran upstairs to the open deck. My wife was heading for the infirmary, and we met on the ladder. She excitedly told me that something had happened to the “Nordstern”. When we arrived on the deck, you could not even see the “Nordstern” mast anymore. She had been torpedoed and sunk to the bottom in two minutes! The only thing visible on the surface was floating debris, and several crying and shouting survivors. We saved just 38 people from the “Nordstern”, and my friend Johan and his wife were not among them. Over 500 people drowned! Only then did our good fortune strike me. What luck fate had bestowed on us. Had we accepted Johan’s offer to move to his ship, we would likely have disappeared into the depths with 500 other unlucky souls. Fate or luck? Who knows? But certainly we had missed a horrible death by a very close call. The gunboat stayed behind, and started to search for the submarine. Some of the passengers on our ship had seen the sub’s periscope and the wake of the torpedoes heading for the “Nordsern”. One torpedo had even been directed to the “Nautic”. Thank god it had gone astray!
Any ways, it was not a good example of the much complimented and talked about German skill
for exactness. We were supposed to be at risk until 2:00 am, but 8 hours later at 10:00 we were
obviously still at risk!
“Nautic” now moved forward much slower, and on the lookout perch there were always seamen on guard. Once the gunboat disappeared from view, everybody’s fear level jumped. Now if anything would happen to us, there was no hope of being saved. Life preservers were distributed but there were not enough for all passengers. There were not even enough for all the women! Everybody was on the open deck, hanging onto lifeboats or life rings, whatever happened to be nearby. After some time, we managed to relax a little, and we arrived later in pitch black of night at Gdynia. We were allowed to spend the night onboard.
On the morning of October 8th, policemen boarded the ship to register all passengers. Documents were stamped as follows: “Arrived Gottenhaven October 7, 1944.”
Fellow officers numbered five, me being the sixth. We had agreed on the way that upon arrival in Germany, we would go our separate ways. Find work wherever, doing whatever, to avoid having to work in some government or military capacity for the Germans. We had our passports and other documents, but only showed the passports at registration. Everybody disembarked.
A carload of German officers pulled up to the ship, and one of them did a welcome speech. The passengers from the “Nordstern” were given immediate auto transport to the city. Everybody received instructions in Estonian, from colonel Litzmann and Dr. Mae which clarified that we escapees from our homeland were classed equally to German citizens. We were to find work in our fields of specialization. It was promised that Estonian territory would be “liberated” once again. The Red Cross van soon arrived with coffee and sandwiches.
While walking the docks with my wife, an SS officer approached me and took me aside. He told me that he was aware of my occupation in Estonia. It was his task to ensure that we officers, together with our families would be sent to Danzig. Apparently one of my colleagues had blurted out, from fear or self interest, who knows, that there were 6 officers on board. I protested, but there was no escape. They wanted to place us all behind barbed wires in some special camp, but we protested vigorously about this treatment and were allowed to spend the night in a nearby house. We all slept on the living room floor on sleeping bags.
