Battle of the River Plate, The Page #9

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All right, Woodie. Here we go.

Make to Achilles and Cumberland,

- "Form a single line ahead."

- Yes, sir.

Flag deck.

Break on hoist order one.

And it's an outsize in bowler hats

if this goes wrong.

The sun is sinking.

The evening is fine and clear.

Everybody who can walk ride or crawl

has come down to the waterfront

to get a ringside view

of this first real climax of the war.

The crowd here on the beaches and rooftops

would put football crowds to shame.

All afternoon, we watch men have been transferred

to the SS Tacoma,

the German merchantman

which has moved up close to the Graf Spee.

There can only be a suicide crew left on board

this monster lying here before us in the harbour,

this sinister powerful menacing monster.

This afternoon, we heard the Graf Spee's engines.

Now her diesels have started up again.

There's black smoke

coming out of her fun...

Excuse me, I let get it drink a water.

My throat's getting dry with excitement.

Mine too.

Pop, give me a drink.

Excuse me, while I gulp some water.

My throat's getting dry with excitement.

- Hombre, la ltima botella, huh?

- What, you too?

The vast crowd, which has been so noisy,

seem to have lost their voices as well.

Everybody is watching in silence.

Now.

Now.

Yes. Yes!

Ladies and gentlemen, the pocket battleship

Graf Spee is finally moving.

Yes, she's moving out of the harbour, moving

out of the harbour now under her own power.

Go on to 18 knots.

140 revolutions.

Steer 270. Due west.

Port 10.

The SS Tacoma's following her.

Oh, brother! Anything could happen now.

Catapult aircraft.

Catapult platform, catapult aircraft.

We're standing spellbound here in Montevideo

as the great pocket battleship

leaves the harbour.

Some people are waving.

I can see some women on their knees praying.

Nobody knows

what Captain Langsdorff intends to do.

Nobody knows what Herr Hitler

has told him to do.

Whether he prefers

the pride of the German Navy to be interned

or whether he wants her to fight a short and

spectacular vicious action, nobody knows.

But we're all aware

that the German propaganda machine

cannot possibly afford to lose a battle

with the whole of the world looking on

and taking sides.

Ajax aircraft reporting.

I think she's left the deep channel

for Buenos Aires.

The Graf Spee is now about three miles out.

She seems to have changed course.

Yes, yes. She's changing course

toward the British ships.

Now she's slowing down.

It looks like she's going to stop.

She's stopped now.

Yes. Definitely. She has stopped.

The mighty battleship has come to a halt.

We're all in suspense.

The sun is just touching the horizon,

and through my glasses

I can see quite clearly that a big launch

has left the battleship

and is proceeding to the Tacoma.

I can see that the launch is full of men.

I can assure you

that although we're able to follow every move,

it's impossible to imagine what will happen next.

The suspense here is unbelievable.

The best guess is that they've left

a suicide crew on board

to put up as good a fight as possible

against hopeless odds and go down fighting

the British ships...

- An enormous sheet of flames! A tremendous.

- What happened?

We can feel the blast here, three miles away.

It's suicide. She's tearing herself apart.

Another explosion.

And another!

The smoke's just pouring out of her.

Red and yellow flames.

Listen. You can hear the thunder

of the explosions from here.

It's fantastic!

A gigantic witch's caulron of fire.

It's like a Viking's funeral barbaric

savage overwheiming.

It's a staggering thundering

petrifying spectacle.

We're witnessing the dying convuisions

of a hunted beast.

We're all cowering under the irresistible force

of the explosions of ammunition,

tons of fuel, shells warheads and torpedoes,

which are tearing her great body into bits

tossing tons of steel into the air

until the blazing hull is like a steel volcano.

Timed to the second.

Exactly at sunset.

The twilight of the gods.

Well, that's that, Woodie.

Yes, sir.

Make to Achilles and Cumberland.

"Many a life...

...has been saved today."

Recover aircraft.

Stand to attention. Face to starboard.

They're cheering us, sir.

- Hooray!

- Hooray!

Hooray!

Hooray! Hooray!

Aircraft secured, sir.

- Chief Yeoman.

- Sir?

- Make to Achilles and Cumberland,

"Follow Father."

- Aye-aye, sir.

- Pilot.

- Sir?

- You see that bonfire over there?

- Yes, sir.

Well, steer straight for it.

Kapitn "Tacoma",

this is the gunboat Uruguay.

Hier!

You left harbour without clearance papers

and without a pilot.

You are under arrest. Send over your launch.

I protest.

By international law...

You have been openly assisting a belligerent

warship in Uruguayan territorial waters.

This is a merchant vessel.

It is not on my country's war reserve.

Is Kapitn Langsdorff on board?

Yes.

I am coming on board you.

Leutnant Schneider.

- Schneider!

- Jawohl, Herr Kapitn?

Die Leute sind alle runter.

Jawohl, Herr Kapitn. Die sind fnfzig.

Sagen Sie ihnen, sie sollen es schneller

machen. Es wird bald ganz dunkel sein.

Jawohl, Herr Kapitn.

Los! Beeilen Sie sich doch da unten

bevor es ganz dunkel wird!

Kapitn.

I have orders not to detain you,

Kapitn Langsdorff nor any of your men.

Captain Langsdorff.

Well, Captain Dove.

They let me come out to see you.

I was glad to come.

Things have changed a bit for you

since we said goodbye four days ago.

Yes.

I had sort of unofficial orders

to come and see you because...

...there's a rumour in Montevideo

that you perished with your ship.

The safety of my crew comes first.

I want you to know, Captain, that everyone

on shore who's come in contact with you...

...respects you very much.

And I can only say, as a private person,

even your enemies.

I'm sorry to see you in this situation...

...and alone.

Every commander is alone, Captain.

Goodbye.

Thank you.

This is Mike Fowler reporting to you once again

and finally from Montevideo.

In these late hours

of Sunday 17th December 1939,

there are still thousands of people

milling around here in front of me.

They just don't want to go home.

They can't believe it's all over.

It's like a thriller that you can't put down

till you get to the last page.

The tiger of the seas has been hunted down.

There she lies burning from stem to stern,

while the hunters

those who tracked her down fought her,

pursued her,

and drove her to a violent and tragic death.

The hunters are back on their watch.

And this is yours truly, Mike Fowler, signing off

and saying good night to you from Montevideo.

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