by
W. Bro. William A. Moore
At the time this article was written W. Bro. Moore was
serving as master of United Masters Lodge #167 (a lodge of Masonic Research) in
Auckland, New Zealand. We regret that W. B. Moore passed this life on Aug.
19,1988. We are, however, pleased to publish his moving account about the life
of Count Felix Von Luckner.
I would gladly live to be a hundred and fifty if I could
use all my time to work for reconciliation and understanding between the
nations, to work to convince men and women that it’s worthwhile to believe in
love. Men are too apt to listen to evil, and it’s so very necessary that they
should listen to good.
There’s no shortage of goodness; it’s everywhere in the
world. Very often it can’t be seen
because it’s hidden by a cloud of misunderstandings. Once the misunderstandings
are cleared away it becomes easy to see that fundamentally everyone wants the
same thing. Everyone wants to live in peace and happiness and lead a life
without fear. If there is still anyone who doesn’t believe this let him ask a
young mother what it is above all she wants for her child. Her answer will
dispose of the last vestige of doubt.
These are the words of a man whose life presents a host of
apparent contradictions. It is doubtful that you would expect them from one who
was born into a military family and attained rank and world-wide fame in this
profession. Sickly in his infancy he was in later life, for a time, a circus
strong-man, a wrestling champion and, even when well past his prime, continued
to delight audiences with his feats of strength. While achieving amazing results
for his country in the field of war, he yet became and remained a hero to
countless thousands of his country’s enemies! He joined the Freemasons at the
age of forty after the career which sealed his fame and made him a household
name throughout the world, but his actions had shown him to be a true Freemason
before his formal initiation.
He was born 9 June 1881 in Dresden, Saxony. At age
thirteen, after being captivated by the menu of a luxury liner, looked to the
sea and ran off and shipped as an unpaid cabin boy, on a Russian sailing ship
bound for Australia. Life aboard was very different from the pictures evoked by
the aforesaid menu. His duties included cleaning the latrines and pig-sties! And
he was lucky to survive a fall overboard. Not surprisingly he abandoned ship in
Fremantle and for seven years he roamed the world in a great and bewildering
series of jobs, including selling the Salvation Army’s War Cry, assistant
lighthouse keeper, kangaroo hunter, circus hand, professional boxer, fisherman,
seaman, Mexican army guard for President Diaz, railroad construction, tavern
keeper and barman. He even spent time in a Chilean gaol accused of trying to
steal pigs; won a wrestling competition in Hamburg; twice suffered broken legs,
was thrown out of a hospital in Jamaica for lack of funds, but was lucky enough
to be befriended by some German sailors.
Aged twenty, and with less book knowledge than an average
ten year old, he entered a German navigation training school. After qualifying
and serving on a South American liner, he was eligible to become a reserve
officer in the German navy. In his uniform he returned home to a family which
had long given him up as lost. He
remained in the merchant marine service, passed his Captain’s examination, and
in 1912 entered the German navy for active service in the ship Panzer. A visit
to German territories in Africa saw him engaged on an elephant hunt. World War I
broke out in 1914 but the British blockade of German ports severely limited the
German navy’s capabilities. In the great battle of Jutland, von Luckner
commanded a gun turret on the Kronprinz with skill and cunning. These
attributes, combined with the fact that he was apparently the only German naval
officer who had served ‘in sail’ singled him out for a unique command which
sailed him into the history books of the world.
The Seeadler (Sea Eagle).
A 1570 ton three masted sailing ship, built in Glasgow 1888
and captured by the Germans while under a British flag, was converted under von
Luckner’s directions to an auxiliary cruiser, heavily armed and equipped with
two 500 H.P. engines, but carefully disguised inside and out as a Norwegian
timber ship Inna. Von Luckner managed, during a violent gale in the North Sea 23
December 1916, to break the British blockade,--the Inna was inspected and
passed—and sailed north around Scotland into the Atlantic.
Over the following 88 days his ship, renamed the Seeadler
or Sea Eagle, disguise removed, captured eleven Allied ships in the Atlantic,
and sank ten without a single loss of life, crew or captive. Even the ships’
cats were safe, at one time there were 144 on board his ship! At times up to 400
persons, men and women, were held in the ship until transferred ashore in South
American ports. “I had the courage to sink ships”, he said, “but I had not the
courage to deprive a mother of a child. I fought the war without killing anyone
. . . I always thought of my mother, and imagined what tears and sadness I would
cause if I killed the son of some other mother.” It is claimed that he once
delayed sinking a sailing ship until the Captain’s false teeth had been saved!
If perhaps you feel that von Luckner was a good self-publicist, Newbolt’s
History of the Great War tells of a “bold, calculating, and adventurous leader;
and we have every reason to believe that he was a kindly and courteous gentleman
as well” . .”believing concerted
action between (his prisoners) impossible” . . they “had been allowed to roam
about their ship as they wished; and apart from this, Count von Luckner had
several times acted graciously and generously”.
In April 1917 he rounded Cape Horn and entered the Pacific
where three more ships were sunk. On 2 August his good fortunes ran out and
Seeadler was cast ashore by a tidal wave onto remote Mopelia Island in the
Tahiti group, inhabited only by three Kanaks left by the French to catch
turtles. Von Luckner tells of Sunday services conducted by himself to “worship
the Great Ruler of the Waves”. Beside the Bible rested the German flag plus
those of the prisoners. “I wanted our prisoners to feel that the service was as
much theirs as ours, and that we did not feel ourselves any more a chosen people
before Cod than any other people.”
Von Luckner was involved in many more adventures before
returning to Germany as a hero. The highest award made to him was an honour
placing him above the scope of German law, usually, the prerogative of only the
German Royal family. He was even summoned to Rome by the Pope who called him “a
great humanitarian.” Between the two world wars, von Luckner and his wife
Countess Ingaborg travelled throughout Europe and the United States. In 1938 he
again visited New Zealand in his yacht Seeteufel.
Tremendous crowds greeted him wherever he went and, ever the showman, he
delighted audiences whenever he spoke at public meetings. Some, however, felt
that he was a propagandist for nazism, a charge that he denied, claiming to be
an ambassador for peace only. Although too old for active service in World War
II, Hitler attempted to use him for propaganda purposes but demanded that he
renounce Freemasonry. Our hero who had been initiated in Zur Goldenen Kugel
Lodge No. 66, Hamburg on 26 May 1921, refused.
He also refused to renounce the various honorary citizenships granted him
in the United States. In 1943, in Berlin, he saved the life of a Jewish girl by
finding her shelter and giving her a passport picked up on a bomb site. She
managed to reach a neutral country and then the United States. After the war,
when the Count again visited the U.S.A. appealing for the expulsion of the
hatreds engendered by the war, she opened previously shut doors by her
influence. “I was given an opportunity of reaching the hearts of men and women
who had previously rejected me in their own sorrow and refused to listen to what
I had to say. They had refused to give me a hearing because I was a Cerman and
came from that country whose government had once brought them such terrible
sorrow.”
Hitler made life difficult for von Luckner, and his bank
account was stopped. In remote Halle, where he was living, the citizens seemed
to feel that their relative immunity from air-raids was due to the presence in
their midst of the Count, who had been given the freedom of so many American
cities. In the closing stages of the war refugees from other areas crowded in. The Count was asked by the Mayor and
others in April 1945 to seek out the approaching American troops and seek terms.
The German General in command disclaimed any responsibility, but permitted him
to try. The control officer from Berlin remarked disdainfully: “There’s another
international Freemason.” He did manage to find and negotiate with the
Americans, among whom were Masonic friends, and they agreed not to bomb the
city. He was able to so advise his friends in Halle but, on the advice that
Hitler had condemned him to death, he was forced to f,ee into hiding.
Count Felix von Luckner died 14 April 1966, in Malmo, Sweden. Thus ending a career that might have come straight out of the pages of ‘The Boys’ Own’. His last wish was that it should be said of him, as it had been said of his own hero, another Mason, Buffalo Bill Cody: “He was a great white scout, a loyal and honest man”, and this wish was fulfilled in Lodge White Lily, 16 April 1966.