Those Were The Days: When Madras was bombed by a German warship

In the early 1900s, when World War I was raging, Madras was one of the safest places to live in the British empire. The last time the city had been attacked was a century and a half before when the French laid siege to Fort St. George in 1758. In spite of a resolute five-day bombardment, the French had failed to make the fort fall.

Historians would say India was not involved in World War I. But though far away from the theatre of war, India sent a staggering 1.5 million men and 1.7 lakh animals to fight in Europe, Africa and Mesopotamia. As many as 75,000 of those men lay buried in some remote corner of the world far from home. So, to the distant German enemy, India was a key menace but then distance makes the heart grow more complacent and Indian cities had the least inkling they would be attacked.

It was Navaratri season in Madras, and a majority of defenders were already into their third round of drinks in the clubs and parties across the seaside city. To add to the risk, the Madras port was completely illuminated despite a blackout order. It was then the light cruiser SMS Emden, a part of the naval squadron in a German concession north of Shanghai, captained by Kapitan-Lieutenant Karl von Muller had come visiting.

Perhaps, the trickiest man on the high seas, Muller added a dummy fourth funnel which made the ship look like a British ship (HMS Yarmouth). Not only did enemy ships ignore it, some British ships even saluted it as they passed by.

Emden’s status was that of a lone raider who could choose its own targets. It had a very successful September sending over 40 vessels of Italy, Britain and Australia to the bottom of the ocean before it approached Madras.

One night, Emden hurled 130 shells on the unsuspecting city from a safe distance of 2 kilometres offshore, within 10 minutes. Shrapnel hit the court, sailing club, General Hospital, Vepery, Haddows Road in Nungambakkam, Poonamallee High Road, the gun battery in Royapuram, Casa Major Road and George Town.

A few unexploded shells were also lying around. Four storage tanks of the British-owned Burmah Oil Company containing 3,50,000 gallons of oil were aflame. Not waiting to be challenged the Emden sailed eastwards.

Three died and 13 injured and the city was scared out of its wits. There was some privately forced censorship and newspaper archives don’t have reports of the bombing. The rumour mongers had a field day and in spite of announcements for their capture were active.

The shaken city lost its sleep fearing that the Emden would return to haunt them. Three days later, Lord Pentland, the Governor of Madras, holidaying in Ooty visited the panic-ridden city. After spending a day or two reassuring his subjects, Pentland left for the hills again.

There was another rumour circulating that the Governor did not feel safe in Madras and people panicked. People left the city in fear and great hurry. The exit roads and railway stations were packed. Some walked and many took bullock carts. Their only destination was to be away from the sea. There was a scarcity of food and hoarding and price rise was rampant. The government sponsored and printed songbooks of reassurance in the Gujjili genre and had them circulated.

The British Navy took the affront seriously. The chase for the Emden began. After a memorable victory sail of 56,000 km, Emden which had bullied weaker ships all its life met its match. 50 days after the Madras attack, it was outgunned and beached on in the Cocos archipelago in a battle with HMAS Sydney. As Sydney’s heavier shells battered Emden, Muller refused to give up. Almost half the crew were dead before he surrendered as Sydney kept firing till the German flag was lowered from the ship’s mast. Madras had been avenged.

In spite of its loss, German ruler, Kaiser, awarded the Iron Cross to the ship. Many of the surviving members were allowed to add the name Emden to their own. Geographically, this was the only encounter India had in World War I but the word Emden tiptoed into the Tamil lexicon as an alter name for somebody who had to be feared. But why Madras? Was there an Indian to guide them to the port? A mysterious legend of a Captain Shenbagaraman persists though without much historical corroboration.