The Rainbow. A World War One on Canada's West Coast Timeline
- Thread starter YYJ
- Start date
From Peter N. Moogk, Vancouver Defended, A History of the Men and Guns of the Lower Mainland Defences 1859-1949, Antonson Publishing Ltd. Surrey BC 1978 p. 51
The author footnotes his source for quotes as:
CG Beeston, The 15th Field Brigade, Canadian Artillery: A History and Commentary – 1919-1933, Canadian Defense Quarterly (CDQ) Vol. XV, No. 4 July 1938 p.444
A second battery was established by the army on the northwest side of Point Grey in early September 1914 (I have other sources that give an earlier date.) The militia gunners involved came from the Coberg Heavy Battery of Ontario. As “Admiral Lucas” told it, their 60 pound field guns “were rushed by rail from Ontario and dragged into position in West Point Grey… The land battery arrived on a sweltering day in September (other sources say earlier) a militia major in command. Drawn by trucks, the gun carriages rumbled through downtown streets and out to Point Grey, where positions had been prepared, about half a mile east of the present ‘washout gulley.’” When the guns reached their destination the soldiers discovered what they believed was an act of sabotage. “As the battery was being rolled into position, it was found that one of the hard steel breech blocks had been cracked clean across. ‘That was no accident,’ was the major’s comment, ‘only a man who knew how to destroy steel could have done that.’ A local welder and electrician undertook to repair the block, making an all night job of it, and both guns were ready for action the next day.
My commentary: since there are other obvious errors on the very same page, I am going to count my other sources for the dates as good. The author goes on to describe lots of different units doing "drills" on the guns, but not how much they were actually fired. The guns were pointed at a harbour full of ships. Then he goes on to say:
"The Point Grey Battery was the first to go. Cannda gave most of her 60 pound guns and other stores to the British army and by the end of September the Coberg Heavy Battery was back in Ontario."
So if the British got them the welded gun may have gone on to actual combat somewhere.
Thanks so much for that! I'm going to try to find some good sources (my house is even more of a shambles than normal, so I'll probably have to search for online sources) and try to find a good detailed drawing of the gun. IMO what had happened was an unseen fracture that developed into one clearly visible. Not an act of sabotage but simply metal fatigue. We have ways of checking such things now, back then it wasn't possible. Then again, I may well be wrong. It's too bad photographs aren't available of the damage!
With the limited visibility, Anadyr might be able to hurt Nurnberg. Anadyr might even be able to get the first shots off. The Russians would know to look for a German cruiser, while the Germans might see a merchantman at first. End result is still Anadyr losing, but she lands some shots on Nurnberg. Meanwhile, the Prince Rupert will still have the element of surprise, maybe even more so once the confusion of battle starts.
On the other hand the two 4" guns can hurt Nurnberg and they're dug in, and quite frankly it won't take too much damage to make Nurnberg ineffective as a raider since being half a world away from home rrepairs that require a dockyard aren't available and neither is more ammunition
Driftless
Donor
Very true about the potential for damage to the Nurnberg, but that also requires some aggressive handling by the Russian skipper.
Not sure which pair of 4" guns you speak of. To be clear: One pair is in Vancouver as a shore battery. One pair is currently deck cargo on a steamship bound for Prince Rupert, very much not ready for action. Another 2 pair are in storage in Esquimalt, waiting to be used as shore batteries somewhere. At the cabinet meeting there was a suggestion to mount one pair at strategic pinch point on Northern Vancouver Island. And the HMCS Shearwater and Algerine, the sources of these guns, currently unmanned dockside in Esquimalt each retain one pair.
I want to wet my whistle
Aug 17, 1820. Grand Trunk Pacific Railway Line, near Prince Rupert.
Lieutenant Adler stood on a lonely section of rail bed, train track disappearing into the fog in both directions. To the west, he could just see the ship’s boats, idling at the bottom of the embankment. He waited for 1820 on his watch. As the second hand reached the top, he gave the hand signal. A sailor at the top of a pole cut the telegraph and telephone lines. Two poles down the row, another sailor did the same. The men dragged the hundred meter sections of wire back to the boats.
The men quickly re-embarked, and the boats chugged up the passage between Ridley Island and the mainland. When they were safely distant from shore they threw the spools of line overboard. Adler had the boats keep to the west shore of the inlet, skirting around a townsite and cannery at Port Edward. The boats were pushing against an outgoing tide, but soon passed Watson Island, and split up, each boat heading towards one end of the Grand Trunk Pacific Zanardi Rapids rail bridge. There was quite a current running through the middle of the channel under the bridge, but the boats kept to each side. As the railroad grade and trusswork of the bridge loomed out of the fog, Adler, in the southern boat, noticed the silhouettes of two men standing idly on the tracks. The men had noticed the sound of the boats, and were moving their heads trying to get a better view through the fog.
“Halt! Who goes there?” one of the men challenged. It was clear both men were holding long arms.
“Keep going, steady.” Adler said to the sailor operating the boat. He put on his best nasal American accent. “HMCS Rainbow!” he called back. “Inspection!”
The men talked between themselves. “What is the password?” the Canadian yelled back. The boats kept approaching.
“No idea!” yelled back Adler. He motioned for the sailors to keep their guns ready, but hidden below the gunwales. He was feeling very exposed in the open boat. He heard other voices coming across the channel, from the other side of the bridge, but could not make out any of the words over the sound of the boat and the moving water.
The Canadians talked some more between themselves. “Say I want to wet my whistle!” the leader shouted at Adler.
“What?” yelled Adler.
“Say I Want. To wet. My whistle!” the guard repeated slowly. “C’mon!”
The boat was about 20 meters from the bank. Shots were fired on the other side of the bridge. The Canadians raised their rifles to their shoulders. Alder ordered “Fire!”
A great fusillade rang out. The Canadians were standing and firing two rifles from a high angle down into the boat. The Germans were firing 16 rifles and a Mauser pistol back. Wood splinters flew, Adler heard a man get hit. The Spandau gun opened up and empty cartridges bounced around the inside of the boat. The Canadians took cover, he thought one might have been hit. The boat crunched up on the gravel beach. Adler yelled “Charge!” and vaulted over the gunwale, firing his pistol wildly as he went. The German fire dropped off, as the men jumped ashore, and the Spandau stopped firing to avoid hitting them.
A single rifle fired down on Adler’s party, rapid fire, the shooter lying prone. The Spandau opened up again, and the sailors stormed the embankment with Adler in the lead. Adler crested the bank, onto the tracks, and found one man trying to clear a jam on his rifle. The other was lying on his back, holding his hand over a wound to his left shoulder. The men both wore khaki uniforms. Adler calmed his men, informed the Canadians that they were prisoners of war, and took stock of the wounded. Several sporadic shots where heard from the other end of the bridge, then quiet.
One of his men has been grazed on the upper arm by a bullet, another had been hit in the eye with a flying piece of gravel, and a man back at the boat was shot through the thigh. Adler brought the Canadians down to the boat, and made sure that all who needed got medical attention. The uninjured Canadian had his wrists tied behind his back in the boat. One of the sailors offered cigarettes, which both Canadians accepted.
The Spandau on its tripod was brought up to the tracks, and Adler saw he was short of men. With three of his men getting medical attention, one providing it, one taking care of the boat, and two men crewing the Spandau, he only had 12 men left to carry the Dynamite up the bank and rig the bridge for demolition. A sailor pointed out with raised eyebrows to Adler three places where bullets had passed through the wooden Dynamite crates. The sailor taking care of the boat was mostly occupied plugging bullet holes and bailing.
Adler called across to the other end of the bridge, and was relieved to hear the answer come back in German. He walked across, through the fog, watching between the ties the water swirling below. At the centre of the bridge he met the Petty Officer in charge of the other boat. Their gunfight had resulted in no injuries, and the two Canadian guards had run off into the woods, leaving one rifle behind. He suspected they had run out of ammunition. The demolition parties from both boats got to work. The rail bridge had three truss spans and three cantilever spans, supported on five concrete pillars in the stream of the channel, with a concrete abutment on each end. The northern approach to the bridge ran on a long curving timber trestle. The men rigged charges under the rails on top of the five pillars. The intention was to drop the spans into the water and wreck the pillars such that they needed to be reconstructed from scratch. Men from the other boat walked some length down the trestle pouring kerosene onto the ties from rectangular metal gallon tins. One of the tins trailed a stream of kerosene from a bullet hole.
Adler figured the only reason reinforcements of Canadian militia had not yet arrived was the time it took them to rally. He had no sense that any surprise still existed. So he hurried the demolition of the bridge. After the charges were set, he rushed his men back to the boats. He did take time to lay some spare railway ties across the tracks as a barrier. A munitions train falling into the bay would be a plus, but he did not want to harm a passenger train.
The other boat crew ignited the kerosene soaked trestle on their way back. The timbers took a while to catch in the damp fog, but by the time the boats were back in mid channel, the structure was burning merrily. The charges detonated on the centre span first, with big orange flash, then worked their way towards either end of the bridge. The steel bridge sections fell, in slow motion, into the stream, making great splashes. The longest centre truss span buckled when one end hit bottom. Pieces of masonry rained down from the foggy sky, some altogether too close for Adler’s liking. Then the current helped, and pushed the submerged bridge section ends downstream, dragging the supported ends off their shattered pillars with further giant splashes. What remained were two bridge sections supported at one end with the other end sunk, and the rest of the steel a tangled obstacle in the channel boiling white in the current, interspersed with the broken teeth of the pillars. The sound of the explosions was still echoing off distant mountains, off in the fog.
One of the sailors had brought the Canadian’s rifle along, and was trying to clear the jam, without success. If the tide had been high, Adler saw the boats could have made a short cut through a channel between Ridley and Kaien Islands. But now it was just an expanse of mud, and they had to retrace their steps. The fog that had shrouded them on the way in continued as before. Adler kept to the west bank as they passed Port Edward. Voices came through the fog, and it sounded like some kind of alarm was being sounded, or rescue party arranged. No one could have missed the sound of the explosions. The boats headed back between Ridley and Lelu Islands to the rendezvous point.
Lieutenant Adler stood on a lonely section of rail bed, train track disappearing into the fog in both directions. To the west, he could just see the ship’s boats, idling at the bottom of the embankment. He waited for 1820 on his watch. As the second hand reached the top, he gave the hand signal. A sailor at the top of a pole cut the telegraph and telephone lines. Two poles down the row, another sailor did the same. The men dragged the hundred meter sections of wire back to the boats.
The men quickly re-embarked, and the boats chugged up the passage between Ridley Island and the mainland. When they were safely distant from shore they threw the spools of line overboard. Adler had the boats keep to the west shore of the inlet, skirting around a townsite and cannery at Port Edward. The boats were pushing against an outgoing tide, but soon passed Watson Island, and split up, each boat heading towards one end of the Grand Trunk Pacific Zanardi Rapids rail bridge. There was quite a current running through the middle of the channel under the bridge, but the boats kept to each side. As the railroad grade and trusswork of the bridge loomed out of the fog, Adler, in the southern boat, noticed the silhouettes of two men standing idly on the tracks. The men had noticed the sound of the boats, and were moving their heads trying to get a better view through the fog.
“Halt! Who goes there?” one of the men challenged. It was clear both men were holding long arms.
“Keep going, steady.” Adler said to the sailor operating the boat. He put on his best nasal American accent. “HMCS Rainbow!” he called back. “Inspection!”
The men talked between themselves. “What is the password?” the Canadian yelled back. The boats kept approaching.
“No idea!” yelled back Adler. He motioned for the sailors to keep their guns ready, but hidden below the gunwales. He was feeling very exposed in the open boat. He heard other voices coming across the channel, from the other side of the bridge, but could not make out any of the words over the sound of the boat and the moving water.
The Canadians talked some more between themselves. “Say I want to wet my whistle!” the leader shouted at Adler.
“What?” yelled Adler.
“Say I Want. To wet. My whistle!” the guard repeated slowly. “C’mon!”
The boat was about 20 meters from the bank. Shots were fired on the other side of the bridge. The Canadians raised their rifles to their shoulders. Alder ordered “Fire!”
A great fusillade rang out. The Canadians were standing and firing two rifles from a high angle down into the boat. The Germans were firing 16 rifles and a Mauser pistol back. Wood splinters flew, Adler heard a man get hit. The Spandau gun opened up and empty cartridges bounced around the inside of the boat. The Canadians took cover, he thought one might have been hit. The boat crunched up on the gravel beach. Adler yelled “Charge!” and vaulted over the gunwale, firing his pistol wildly as he went. The German fire dropped off, as the men jumped ashore, and the Spandau stopped firing to avoid hitting them.
A single rifle fired down on Adler’s party, rapid fire, the shooter lying prone. The Spandau opened up again, and the sailors stormed the embankment with Adler in the lead. Adler crested the bank, onto the tracks, and found one man trying to clear a jam on his rifle. The other was lying on his back, holding his hand over a wound to his left shoulder. The men both wore khaki uniforms. Adler calmed his men, informed the Canadians that they were prisoners of war, and took stock of the wounded. Several sporadic shots where heard from the other end of the bridge, then quiet.
One of his men has been grazed on the upper arm by a bullet, another had been hit in the eye with a flying piece of gravel, and a man back at the boat was shot through the thigh. Adler brought the Canadians down to the boat, and made sure that all who needed got medical attention. The uninjured Canadian had his wrists tied behind his back in the boat. One of the sailors offered cigarettes, which both Canadians accepted.
The Spandau on its tripod was brought up to the tracks, and Adler saw he was short of men. With three of his men getting medical attention, one providing it, one taking care of the boat, and two men crewing the Spandau, he only had 12 men left to carry the Dynamite up the bank and rig the bridge for demolition. A sailor pointed out with raised eyebrows to Adler three places where bullets had passed through the wooden Dynamite crates. The sailor taking care of the boat was mostly occupied plugging bullet holes and bailing.
Adler called across to the other end of the bridge, and was relieved to hear the answer come back in German. He walked across, through the fog, watching between the ties the water swirling below. At the centre of the bridge he met the Petty Officer in charge of the other boat. Their gunfight had resulted in no injuries, and the two Canadian guards had run off into the woods, leaving one rifle behind. He suspected they had run out of ammunition. The demolition parties from both boats got to work. The rail bridge had three truss spans and three cantilever spans, supported on five concrete pillars in the stream of the channel, with a concrete abutment on each end. The northern approach to the bridge ran on a long curving timber trestle. The men rigged charges under the rails on top of the five pillars. The intention was to drop the spans into the water and wreck the pillars such that they needed to be reconstructed from scratch. Men from the other boat walked some length down the trestle pouring kerosene onto the ties from rectangular metal gallon tins. One of the tins trailed a stream of kerosene from a bullet hole.
Adler figured the only reason reinforcements of Canadian militia had not yet arrived was the time it took them to rally. He had no sense that any surprise still existed. So he hurried the demolition of the bridge. After the charges were set, he rushed his men back to the boats. He did take time to lay some spare railway ties across the tracks as a barrier. A munitions train falling into the bay would be a plus, but he did not want to harm a passenger train.
The other boat crew ignited the kerosene soaked trestle on their way back. The timbers took a while to catch in the damp fog, but by the time the boats were back in mid channel, the structure was burning merrily. The charges detonated on the centre span first, with big orange flash, then worked their way towards either end of the bridge. The steel bridge sections fell, in slow motion, into the stream, making great splashes. The longest centre truss span buckled when one end hit bottom. Pieces of masonry rained down from the foggy sky, some altogether too close for Adler’s liking. Then the current helped, and pushed the submerged bridge section ends downstream, dragging the supported ends off their shattered pillars with further giant splashes. What remained were two bridge sections supported at one end with the other end sunk, and the rest of the steel a tangled obstacle in the channel boiling white in the current, interspersed with the broken teeth of the pillars. The sound of the explosions was still echoing off distant mountains, off in the fog.
One of the sailors had brought the Canadian’s rifle along, and was trying to clear the jam, without success. If the tide had been high, Adler saw the boats could have made a short cut through a channel between Ridley and Kaien Islands. But now it was just an expanse of mud, and they had to retrace their steps. The fog that had shrouded them on the way in continued as before. Adler kept to the west bank as they passed Port Edward. Voices came through the fog, and it sounded like some kind of alarm was being sounded, or rescue party arranged. No one could have missed the sound of the explosions. The boats headed back between Ridley and Lelu Islands to the rendezvous point.
A winner!
Major T.V. Scudamore of the British Columbia Regiment, having been captured at Ypres after being wounded, wrote of the "contemptible" Ross rifle, "Those in the front line with that rifle will never forget... what it is like to be charged by the flower of the German army... and be unable to fire a shot in return."[8]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ross_rifle
Needless to say the various politicians who prevented Canada from acquiring a decent Navy are not going to fond of the Leipzig and Nurnberg
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I have one very important question. Will the mighty Canadian Shovel Shield make an appearance.
No one picked up on Premier McBride's earlier slanders of our Minister of Militia and Defence.I have one very important question. Will the mighty Canadian Shovel Shield make an appearance.
The chapter entitled "Burn the Money!"
The chapter entitled "Utmost Sorrow and Consternation."
