”In the morning, everything was still as always. We had great weather, we were familiar with the area and, therefore, all three of us went diving at an old wreck. We only left our cutter „Venus“ alone for half an hour, but that was enough to put us all in mortal danger.

When we came up to the surface, I immediately heard the beeping of the smoke alarm. Thick smoke was billowing out of the saloon door. It had almost completely enveloped the ship since it was practically dead calm. The diving ladder was situated in front of the door, so I knew at once that we couldn’t get back on board. But we had to send a distress signal somehow! 

 Fortunately, on the other side of the cutter, our rubber dinghy lay alongside. We swam around the “Venus” and climbed aboard over the dinghy – into the middle of a black cloud of smoke and without knowing what was awaiting us. 

Immediately, acrid fumes hit us in the face. The stench took my breath away. Only I didn’t see any flames. On the bridge everything was black already. What came to mind was what we had learned previously: three breaths of smoke and that was it! But I knew I had to press the digital SOS signal for the sea rescue service. On the first attempt, I failed, the smoke was simply too thick. I couldn’t press the button long enough. 

On the second try, I managed it. For a moment, I was relieved, but my next thought was that we had to get off the ship at once. There was a 50-litre oxygen tank still on board that could explode any second. Quickly grabbing a handheld transceiver, we jumped in the rubber dinghy and got away from the ship as fast as we could. When we looked back, we could already see open flames in the saloon and then the window panes burst. That was really, really close!

Fortunately, a container ship picked up our distress signal and established radio contact between us and the Maritime Rescue Coordination Centre in Bremen. The DGzRS alerted two rescue vessels, a SAR helicopter and a customs ship sailing in our vicinity. This took us on board, and a little later the sea rescuers directed the helicopter to us. The air was filled with its noise as it hauled us up with its winch. 

We were then taken to the hospital in Niebüll and it was all over for us.  But the whole time my thoughts were with our ship. Later we found out what happened: Although the sea rescuers together with other ships were able to put out the fire, our “Venus” didn’t make it to the harbour any more. She sank off the coast of Helgoland.”

“Ahead of us, behind us, next to us, all I could see was water,” says Dieter Clasen remembering fearful moments in the valleys between the waves. In the evening of the 29th of August, off the Weststrand of Darss, with waves several metres high, he (70) and his daughter Inga Roland (47) got into a situation particularly feared by seamen: strong winds coming from open water press into shore and make a trip east to west extremely difficult. After a visit to relatives in Altefähr/Rügen, the two sailors cast off at wind force 4 to 5  and headed for their home port of Wismar. “I knew that my boat could take it”, says Clasen.

However, things turned out differently: the weather suddenly shifted. In the evening, the Darsser West Beach measured Beaufort 9. With bad visibility, the onshore storm pressed the boat so close to shore that it could no longer free itself on its own. It danced up and down, at the mercy of the waves . “Legerwall” is the term German seamen use for this dangerous situation. 

On the outer reef break, Clasen casts anchor. There is no longer any possibility to go forward or back. “I would have spent the night on board, but my daughter...“, Clasen relates. Inga Roland is struggling with severe seasickness. She loses more fluids than she can drink. The situation becomes dangerous, but Clasen has no radio set on board. With his mobile telephone, he calls his son, who does not hesitate: He notifies the MRCC BREMEN of the DGzRS. 

Around 19.25 hours, the alarm sounds on the SAR cruiser THEO FISCHER/Station Darsser Ort. Each of the four rescuers on board immediately knows, the impending mission will be anything but a stroll. Recoveries in the breakers have always been among the most difficult and most dangerous operations of the search and rescue services. All DGzRS units are therefore built so that they can withstand heavy swells and collisions. You never know...

The THEO FISCHER fights her way through high waves off Darsser Ort. Nevertheless, the search takes only a relatively short time – not least due to the rescuers’ familiarity with the territory. Not 100 metres off the Darsser Weststrand, they find the little boat quite fairly dancing in water only 1.5 metres deep.

The most difficult part of the mission lies still ahead of the sea rescuers. With their shallow-draught daughter boat STRÖPER, they approach the impaired vessel. The recovery of the skipper and his daughter turns out to be a challenge. Thanks to manoeuvres practiced again and again, the experienced lifeboat crew needs only three attempts to secure the two shipwrecked sailors on board. Then they return to the SAR cruiser. 

In the port of refuge Darsser Ort, the volunteer sea rescuers from the Station Prerow/Wieck take over the rescued persons, who are completely exhausted, soaked to the skin and in shock – having previously organized dry clothing and accommodation for the night. “The helpfulness of the sea rescuers at sea and on land was boundless. We owe them our heartfelt thanks!” Clasen is still relieved today.

Once again, this mission has shown the necessity of maintaining a DGzRS station in this area of the Baltic, from which the SAR services can intervene at close hand and speedily. 

On the VORMANN JANTZEN, lying at this time in Großenbrode, the international emergency VHF channel 16 is on round the clock in the cabins of the crew below deck. It is the same on all sea rescue vessels of the DGzRS. “We only really wake up when we are called. You can tell from the voice,” says coxswain Uwe Radloff. 

But in this night, the alarm does not come “over 16”. Valuable time is lost because the shipwrecked sailors –  perhaps in the rush and stress of the situation – call for help over a different channel. And so their emergency call reaches the sea rescue service via an indirect route. It is the MARITIME RESCUE COORDINATION CENTRE in Bremen that alerts the crew of the VORMANN JANTZEN.

Instantly, the four sea rescuers are wide awake. They respond to the emergency call, however, the radio is silent. The four men look at each other briefly. They realize, now it is a matter of life and death out there. Especially since the Baltic Sea is 6 degrees cold. 

Without delay, the VORMANN JANTZEN pulls out to sea. Each of the rescuers is occupied in their own thoughts with the seamen in distress, who, in the dark and possibly without a rescue resource, are completely on their own. “You never know what’ll happen,“ as they say among sea rescuers. 

“All levers down on the table“: the SAR cruiser sails full speed ahead. Suddenly, the lookout points to portside. The castaways are making weak light signals with a battery torch. “Searchlights over there!“

Now everything goes fast: daughter boat BUTSCHER out and over to the wreck. Only the masts of the cutter are still sticking out of the water. “We could not have managed to hold out ten minutes longer,“ says one of the survivors later. 

The SAR men take the survivors on board the rescue cruiser and give them dry clothing and warming tea. A volunteer crew member, a paramedic by profession and currently on board as reinforcement, gives the men first aid. Relatives pick them up at the harbour. “That was a close call,“ says coxswain Radloff.

It is a short night for the men of the VORMANN JANTZEN. In the morning, the next distress call comes in: a sailing yacht has run aground – but that’s another story.