In 1917 and 1918, the ‘proudest’ and most ‘joyful’ period in the short history of the German Navy, there was no longer any need for the humiliation of excuses. On January 31, 1917, Germany proclaimed her intention of sinking at sight every ship found in the waters around the British Isles and the coast of France, or in the Mediterranean Sea. It was at the same time announced--quite falsely--that the German Government had conclusive proof of the misuse of hospital ships for the transport of munitions and troops, and that therefore the traffic of hospital ships within certain areas ‘would no longer be tolerated.’ President Wilson dealt promptly with this infamous proclamation. On February 3, he told Congress that he had severed diplomatic relations between America and Germany; on April 6, he formally declared war. The savages were now entirely free to take their own way, and they took it. On the night of March 20, 1917, the hospital ship _Asturias_, steaming with all navigating lights, and with all the proper Red Cross signs brilliantly illuminated, was torpedoed and sunk without warning. Of the medical staff on board, 14 were lost, including one nurse, and of the ship’s company 29, including one stewardess. On March 30, the _Gloucester Castle_ was torpedoed without warning, but her wounded were all got off in safety. On April 17, the _Donegal_ and the _Lanfranc_ were both sunk while bringing wounded to British ports. In the _Donegal_, 29 wounded were lost, and 12 of the crew. The _Lanfranc_ carried, besides 234 British wounded and a medical staff of 52, a batch of wounded German prisoners to the number of 167, including officers. ‘The moment the torpedo struck the _Lanfranc_,’ wrote a British officer on board, ‘the Prussians made a mad rush for the life-boats. One of their officers came up to a boat close to which I was standing. I shouted to him to go back, whereupon he stood and scowled, “You must save _us_.” I told him to wait his turn. Other Prussians showed their cowardice by dropping on their knees and imploring pity. Some cried “Kamarad,” as they do on the battle-field. I allowed none of them to pass me.... In these moments, while wounded Tommies lay in their cots unaided, the Prussian moral dropped to zero. Our cowardly prisoners made another crazy effort to get into a life-boat. They managed to crowd into one--it toppled over. The Prussians were thrown into the water, and they fought with each other in order to reach another boat containing a number of gravely wounded British soldiers.... The behaviour of our own lads I shall never forget!’--but there is no need to tell that part of the story; it is old, centuries old, and is repeated unfailingly whenever a British ship goes down.