August 16, 1914. Esquimalt Naval Dockyard, British Columbia.
“It would seem that the Germans have taken the gamble to split their fleet and lose concentration of firepower in the end.” Commander James gestured in a circling motion with a thin stick around relevant areas of the map spread before them, “Simultaneously attacking targets on the eastern side of Vancouver Island and the mainland itself is a rather cunning strategy, especially in regard to our general lack of defenses.”
“Given the amount of port calls the German fleet did across the world prior to the war, being in the loop with regard to our frankly embarrassing defenses should have been expected at this point.” The intelligence officer let out a smoke filled long sigh, “This strategy of dividing their raiding fleet puts a damper on the effectiveness of the submarine pair, they basically have to act in unison given their performance and reliability issues to make an effective attack. Hell, even a successful strike against one of the raiders would leave the other free to waltz back out into the shipping lanes to continue their work.”
Commander Trousdale furrowed his brow, “This is almost all too convenient on the part of the Germans, if we were in any other part of the world I would expect espionage but look at this place.” He outstretched his arms for a moment before dropping them back down to his sides, “Canadian politicians are a bigger enemy from within than even the most dastardly Hun spy, in the end the Germans are simply reaping the rewards of a long due harvest.”
“On the brighter side.” His compatriot continued, “We at least have a halfway clear idea which ships are where and when.
Leipzig is likely in transit to her next target and
Algerine is currently bombarding Nanaimo. That would explain the reports and damage so far however, this entire situation does make me wonder if this is all the Germans accounted for or not…”
A knock on the office door sounded through the room but before it could be properly acknowledged, a white haired man pushed his way inside.
“Ah Premier McBride.” Trousdale stated cordially, “You are a few hours late to see our submarines off to battle but it would seem you’ve arrived just in time for lunch, 12:00 sharp to be exact.”
The politician chuckled nervously as he placed his hat down on a nearby table, “Unfortunately so Commander, I was not left an especially generous amount of time to make the sudden departure given the pandemonium all around. Thankfully the taxi drivers here are eager to make some coin regardless of the situation at hand. Local police and Militia are keeping the situation in hand but I fear the worst might be yet to come.”
He produced a paper bag from his other hand, revealing a trio of wrapped sandwiches, “I managed to find one local shop keep who had not run for the hills but it seems he was the exception to the rule. Reports of looting, petty vandalism and general disregard for law and order are especially rampant in Vancouver, it’s difficult to get a straight answer in regard to severity but having explosions in the streets seems to cause such things.”
Both naval officers obliged the kind offer and began their simple but quite needed lunch, the Premier continuing as he leaned against a nearby wall.
“Speaking of straight answers, that is partially why I am here gentlemen. Between the frankly erroneous reports coming across my desk, the ballooning egos of the Militia officers and my repeatedly ignored calls through to the Prime Minister in Ottawa, I decided that dallying around the parliament building and waiting for a shell to strike me down was not the best use of my time.”
The base intelligence officer, Commander James swallowed a bite of his sandwich before responding.
“I do appreciate your confidence in us over our Militia counterparts and I am rather sure we can provide the most reliable information in the province at the moment however, that most reliable information is shrouded by the fog of war. With all due respect Premier, interject if you have any relevant local information but we are trying to piece together a larger picture here so it might get a bit messy.”
McBride nodded before gesturing to the officer to continue.
James points at the map table taking up most of the real estate of the room, “To make a long story short, we are fairly certain that a pair of German raiders are currently attacking targets on Vancouver Island and on the mainland as we speak. It would seem that part of the difficulty in communications would be due to the fact that the Germans have destroyed or damaged the various facilities up the Indian Arm which generate power for the greater Vancouver area. We have reports that oil refineries in Port Moody, Vancouver port logistics and shipping in the area have been thoroughly ravaged but we will have to wait until the smoke clears to get a full picture. The ship we believe to be the cruiser
Leipzig fled back out into Burrard Inlet around 11:30 and from our most recent information, she turned North up Howe Sound and is likely poised to attack the infrastructure in the area very soon.”
A muffled “Christ” was all McBride got out as the intelligence officer continued his spiel.
“Another vessel which we believe to be the captured sloop
Algerine formerly under Captain Robert Corbett has been attacking targets on Vancouver Island, starting with the town of Ladysmith and is presently believed to be bombarding Nanaimo. Comox and other locations along the coast are likely to be attacked in short order assuming the Germans have been properly rationing their ammunition. The various coal loading ports, coastal mines and whatever shipping cannot escape is at imminent risk. Shortly before you arrived, we are trying to determine if the Germans will circle back around and flee out into the Pacific from the way they came or if they will try to run the Johnstone Strait and take the longer route out.”
Trousdale finished his sandwich and placed his hands on the table, “The Germans can essentially sail outside of the realistic range of the Victoria and Esquimalt coastal guns given their antique specifications, the 9.2” battery at Signal Hill is the only section able to range out further and it is in such a sorry state that it would be lucky to kill any fish. Unlike Commander James, I am more partial to believing the Germans will take the strait North given they will not have to double back and can save time. To play my own devils advocate, the strait is dangerous enough for experienced local ships and I would imagine a foreign vessel could have serious troubles even if they have stolen charts.”
“So the fate of the province lands in the lap of this nascent submarine force then? Even if we flip a coin and come out with the correct guess, we won’t come off the winners here.” McBride snorted in between chews, “I suppose that fate is rather sealed at this point, the Germans have already ransacked much of the area to the point that any blow we deliver will simply be a boot to the rear as they flee out the door.”
An awkward silence fell over the room as that last unsavory fact was digested, the politician might not have been a military man but his point was very valid nonetheless. As they all stared down at the map in front of them partially obscured by strewn about papers, Trousdale decided that little would be gained from dwindling too long in such an atmosphere.
“How about some fresh air?” Trousdale said pointing a thumb towards the door, “Clearing our heads and tackling this from a different angle might help.”
McBride nodded and reached for his hat, James simply shrugged his shoulders and leaned over the map table.
“Feel free to leave without me, I should have another batch of reports arriving any minute which require my attention. Besides, I am distinctly more comfortable here than trouncing out around those dusty parade grounds.”
Trousdale couldn’t argue with the man, James was the typical intelligence closet skulker, more akin to a creation of Bram Stoker and about as adverse to light as one. He was a fairly competent officer all things considered for the average on this coast, so best to leave somebody reliable to hold down the fort. The atmosphere out in the greater naval yard was little of an improvement from the cramped room previously although the mid-day sun and a slight breeze did something to calm the nerves. Sentries white knuckled their rifles even before Trousdale and McBride would step through their line of sight, the groups of men doing various drills in the courtyard could almost be seen forcing themselves through their activities, like invisible piano wire was pulled taught through them and ready to snap at any moment.
Through the crowds of moving bodies, McBride spotted a familiar face in an unfamiliar uniform. Leading a troop of fresh faced reservists in a cutlass drill with notes in hand and a fairly authoritative tone, was the newly minted Sub-Lieutenant Thomas Allsop Brown. As both men passed, Brown snuck a short glance at them before turning to clatter off a salute towards Trousdale. Returning the gesture, Trousdale leaned his head over towards McBride.
“It would seem that you and Pilcher’s little sleuth is getting along rather well for himself, jumping straight from Able Seaman to Sub-Lieutenant is a rather Nelsonian accomplishment.”
“Well.” McBride stated, “Being such an instrumental part of such a...sensitive operation does prove his loyalty and conviction is deserving of some reward at least. Although if I am not mistaken, are his sleeve ranks crooked?”
Trousdale craned his head over his shoulder to chance a peek and as Brown raised his arms to signify the next movement of the drill, the wavy rank bands along his jacket cuffs were indeed slanted rather jauntily.
“It would seem so.” Trousdale chuckled, “I believe he will clean up ship shape in due time, especially if we can persuade your friends in Ottawa for some proper stocks of uniforms. That coat may very well be older than the man currently wearing it.”
The Premier opened his mouth to speak but the sound of rapidly approaching foot falls caused him to save his remark for another time. Skidding to a stop in front of them, the young lad Trousdale had been using as a document mule doubled over to catch his breath, the lone sheet of paper in his hand shaking with every breath.
“Commander James has been trying to reach you sir, urgent news has just arrived over the wireless.”
“What is it son?” Trousdale said as he accepted the papers with an outstretched arm, only to be clearly confronted with his answer on the page. The transcribed message read as such,
BLACK ROCK BATTERY REPORTS CIVILIAN VESSEL WITH SURVIVORS FROM HMCS RAINBOW EN ROUTE TO NAVAL HOSPITAL. BE ADVISED CLOSE INSPECTION UNAVAILABLE.
Trousdale felt his heart bound up into his throat as he read the message again, quickly angling it towards the Premier as well who starred in bewilderment.
“A launch has already been organized at A jetty to take you across the harbor to the naval hospital.” The young man said, “Commander James has also alerted the hospital staff and Naval Service Headquarters in Ottawa about the situation.”
There were no further words required as both men took off into an energetic jog through the grounds of the naval base. Naval uniforms and formal suits on old men did not make for the most suitable attire but this developing situation called for action foremost. As both men made their way around buildings and confused saluting sailors, Trousdale quickly commandeered four armed sentries from their various duties to accompany them across the harbor. Men training out in the parade squares and around the barracks watched the strange sight of the province's top ranking politician and naval officer running like madmen with an armed escort in tow. The stern looking sailor at the main jetty already had the steam launch idling when its cargo arrived, Premier McBride spoke up through labored breaths as they nearby leaped aboard and promptly threw off their moorings.
“While I appreciate the escort from these fine young men Commander, is it really necessary to bring along such a group to help recover survivors?”
The launch's funnel sputtered smoke as the tiny machinery roared defiantly, taking off into the depths of the harbor. Trousdale scratched at his chin slightly, “You would be right to think such a thing normally but in these times of war, one cannot allow themselves to become complacent. Esquimalt’s examination ship has not returned from its patrol out in the nearby waters meaning that ship supposedly carrying survivors was not properly vetted. For all we know, it could indeed end up to be carrying a force of angry German marines eager to ransack the hospital and surrounding base.”
“The Germans wouldn’t dare such a trick!” McBride sputtered, “Such a thing would be….be....positively barbaric!”
“Such is war.” Trousdale stated matter of factly, “The Germans seem more than content bombarding civilian towns as we speak Premier, skullduggery of this sort does not seem like a very far fetched notion.”
McBride gripped the side of the launch and projected his grim expression back aft towards the mouth of Esquimalt harbor. He had experience fighting bitterly against fellow politicians who were known for their heartless and bloodthirsty nature in their own right but this amount of savagery was something entirely different. McBride cupped his hands over his brow to help his vision cut through the oppressive afternoon sun, a plume of coal smoke vented upwards as a low slung vessel started to lumber into view.
"Why would Germans attack the hospital if it is so removed from the navy base itself." McBride wondered aloud, "I mean surely they would have asked to dock in the base itself if they wanted to deal a blow against us?"
Trousdale wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead, “Yes that would be the most prudent option but it would also be the most obvious. Why would a ship full of injured men want to dock at a naval base instead of a functioning hospital when the two are so close? If they had asked such a thing, I likely would have assumed the examination battery would have destroyed them almost immediately. Regardless though, it seems like we should arrive a few minutes ahead of that ship, that should give us just enough time to set up an ambush if this turns out to be a German ruse.”
One of the sentries gulped audibly as he eyed one of his compatriots, these young men talked quite the game about bringing the fight to the Hun but it would remain to be seen how actual battle tested their mettle. The unidentified vessel certainly had at least a few knots of a speed advantage over the small launch but with less than a kilometer from the naval base to the hospital, even a barreling destroyer likely wouldn’t have cut them off. The occupants of the launch were shown a full display of the ports vital infrastructure as they passed, the Esquimalt Graving Dock, Yarrow shipyard and Esquimalt's various other coaling and supply wharves. McBride could imagine that within the coming days, the dock and the yards shipwrights would end up seeing plenty of civilian repairs once the Germans were sent packing. The village of Esquimalt could be seen over and past the graving dock and the various coaling wharves which jutted out from the shore out towards the harbor. Signal Hill sat with its largely impotent guns facing out towards the sea, even those seemingly could have their purpose in the end. If the Germans could be held off from attacking Esquimalt under threat of return fire from the Canadian batteries, retaining the port infrastructure of the naval base would allow them to quickly secure the immediate area and base friendly forces once they arrived.
Such thoughts would have to wait though as not long after, the launch approached the hospital wharf. As the launch was tied pier side and its occupants funneled quickly onto the dock, they met face to face with the doctors, nurses and armed men eagerly awaiting them. Trousdale hurried away the civilian staff from the potential battle ahead while McBride turned his eyes back towards the entrance of the harbor and the slowly approaching vessel. The four men brought over by Trousdale joined the six mustered from around the hospital in taking up makeshift defensive positions around the dock, most kneeled or took up prone positions around a set of nearby wooden crates while two others sprinted for the bushes of the nearby shoreline to open up another potential angle of attack.
With the minutes slowly passing and the ship beginning to edge closer and closer towards them, Trousdale brandished a relinquished revolver in one hand and a set of binoculars in the other as he motioned for the Premier to take cover with the men. Through the lenses, it could be seen that the ship was low slung in the water signifying it was carrying some kind of heavy load. A mast amidships and aft of the squat wheelhouse/funnel combination alongside her sloping upwards bow clearly showed that she must have been some kind of coastal cargo vessel or steamer. Trousdale was torn, it was unlike the prideful Germans he knew to scuttle aboard such a piddly coastal steamer for any operation they may undertake but on the other hand, it would be the perfect cover. He initially prayed that her draft was due to a legitimate cargo and not something as dastardly as a hold full of explosives to destroy the hospital and base. If that was the case though, such an event would be a suicide mission as only a single boat could be seen aboard and no tarped guns seem to signify a surprise attack.
“Hey!” One of the sentries suddenly shouted from his cover, “I recognize that ship now, I think that’s the
Flamingo! She’s a halibut boat off the coast here, my uncle was sailing on her a few years back.”
With her lumbering form making its final approach, the sight of the pearly white bellies of flat fish upon her deck and the acrid stench of entrails seemingly reinforced such a fact even if Trousdale was not completely convinced yet. Her nameplate did confirm her as the
Flamingo and as rugged looking bearded men clad in scale and blood speckled shirts began to come into view on deck preparing the mooring lines, Trousdale and the men on the dock slackened their guards slightly. The Commander and another sailor sheathed their weapons and assisted the fishermen in mooring the vessel as a few more sailors came up from behind, their eclectic mixture of Lee Enfield and Ross rifles held in a low ready position towards the ship.
Trousdale produced his revolver again as the gangplank was laid, “I wish to speak to the Captain immediately!” He bellowed, “Have all of your crew stand aside if you would, I am sending my men aboard to search the vessel.”
A gruff old fellow with a large white beard exited the ship's wheelhouse, side stepping the clattering of navy issue boots on the stained deck and politely tipping his brown flat cap as they passed. Strutting across the deck and over the gangplank with surprising agility considering his apparent age, the man stopped in front of the waiting naval officer and extended a hand, “I am Captain Freeman, it is a pleasure to meet you….?”
“Commander Trousdale.”
“Ah, I see.” Captain Freeman said curtly, “Well Commander, I can personally assure you that not a single German has snuck aboard this ship under my watch. All of the men on this ship are Canadians through and through, especially so the few of yours I fished from the water.”
“I do appreciate your cooperation Captain but you must understand the formalities now that we are at war. Doubly so that we are also under attack as we speak by Germans on this very coast.”
The old salt raised an eyebrow at that remark, “So I take it the same Germans who done your boys in off San Francisco have made their way up here then?”
Trousdale nodded, “I am afraid so. It would do you good to keep away from Vancouver and the internal waterways for the next few days, Esquimalt is currently the safest place in the province as we speak.”
One of the sailors emerged from the side door of the
Flamingo’s wheelhouse, “She’s all clear sir, no Hun aboard today. Cargo is nothing but fish and men.”
Trousdale turned and gestured to the men to lower their weapons, “You heard the lad, she’s Hun free. Somebody go retrieve the medical staff, we need their assistance.”
As one of the men jogged off in the direction of the nearest hospital building, Premier McBride emerged somewhat pale from his hiding place.
“Riveting stuff you navy boys get up to these days.” The politicians meekly smiled, “I think I will stick to politics though, I’d much rather be on the wrong end of a pen than a bayonet.”
A gaggle of medical staff soon arrived carrying stretchers, crutches and all manner of equipment, making their way down the pier and up over the gangplank. A few short minutes later, two stretcher bearers methodically made their way back up from the depths of the ship and out onto the dock. McBride grimaced as the staff passed him, averting his eyes from the pair of bodies draped in large white sheets, one almost unbelievably tiny and almost was eaten completely by the sheet while the other largely filled out the entire stretcher. A trio of more stretchers soon emerged from the vessel next, thankfully carrying the exhausted but very much alive forms of a Leading Seaman and two Able Seamans, the former attempting a weak salute towards Commander Trousdale who returned it as they passed. Four more Able Seamen followed in short succession, each looking rather gaunt and worn from their journey considering the various bandages that covered them but in the end with help from the nurses, still very much able to shuffle along to meet their comrades.
A few minutes passed without any more survivors coming into the sunlight, Trousdale was just about ready to go aboard himself when two lone orderlies came up the gangplank carrying one final stretcher.
“That’s all of the men.” One of the deckhands aboard yelled towards the dock, causing both McBride and Trousdale’s stomachs to quickly bottom out. Eight survivors and two dead was a miniscule amount of men, especially compared to the over fifty recovered by the Germans and put ashore in America a few days prior. As both orderlies approached Trousdale, he noticed the patient they carried donned a jacket with the distinctive three bar and curl rank insignia of a Commander in the Royal Canadian Navy. Motioning for the staff to stop for a moment as they looked down, McBride and Trousdale came face to face with the battered but alive Walter Hose.
“Trousdale and the Premier, quite the welcoming committee.” Hose smirked, “I see you and the
Shearwater must have made it back home after all, it’s good to see we accomplished something at the very least.”
The fellow officer took off his uniform cap and gripped it in his hands, “Yes, yes we did but I’m afraid
Algerine and Captain Corbett didn’t in the end. The auxiliary
Prince George sent to assist you has also been missing, it seems likely the Hun snatched them up and in the case of
Algerine, is using her to bombard Nanaimo the last we knew.”
Hose blinked hard a few times and looked towards McBride who nodded his head in confirmation, “Dear god….a-and what of
Leipzig?”
“Both ships passed by the Esquimalt defenses sometime last night we guess.” Trousdale said, “
Leipzig tore through Vancouver and the surrounding area, still at large as we speak. It doesn’t look good Hose, we are looking to intercept the Germans with the pair of submarines we recently acquired but that might already be a foregone conclusion.”
The three remained silent for a few moments as Trousdale quickly realized the meaning behind what he had just said to his fellow officer. Those words could not be taken back and the dejection on the injured officer's face was plain to see, the sacrifice of his ship and men had been for little in the end as the Hun powered through and met their objective regardless of the
Rainbow. Trousdale mentally kicked himself for his behavior, Hose had already been put through the wringer and this didn't help the situation.
“
Leipzig is a capable ship captained by a cunning man, blasted thing going up against that with a defective ship.” Hose glared hot daggers at Premier McBride, ”With the
Rainbow gone, the Germans have essentially been handed free reign as foxes free in the chicken coop as we largely cower behind Esquimalt's guns.”
Hose gripped Trousdale’s arm and looked upwards, “Have you received a count of the survivors yet?”
“The Germans interned 49 dead and 5 survivors in San Francisco before they headed North.”
That sentence plunged into Hose like a hot knife as he looked past both men and towards the sky with a solemn expression.
“109 men lost.” Hose said with a monotone sputter, “And to think those damn Hun bastards might have cut my sea days short with all this shrapnel, if an Admiralty court martial doesn’t take me first.”
The shredded lower section of Hose’s uniform trousers and long discarded boots had long ago been covered with various bandages and wrappings, it was fairly obvious to all present by Hose’s choice to take a stretcher that he could very well still be in harm's way if not properly treated soon.
McBride spoke up, “Please Commander, if there is anything you need, make it known and I will do the best in my power to make it happen.”
Hose snorted, “To be absolutely frank with you Premier McBride? I would ask for a replacement cruiser but considering you are in league with Borden and his merry band of penny pinching misers in Ottawa, I would be better served by having what remains of my men push me out into the strait so I can fight the Germans personally as they leave your crumbling province.”
The politician stood, mouth half ajar and face framed in a positively bewildered expression as Hose handed a folded piece of paper to Trousdale.
“Please forward this list of requests to Naval Service Headquarters as soon as possible, tell them I will send along my report on the battle when my condition allows it.”
Trousdale nodded as he took the paper, “Very well.” Hose said through a cough, “If you will excuse me then, I must notify my wife that she is no longer a widow.”
McBride grumbled something rather profane sounding from under his breath as the orderlies took Commander Hose off the dock and up towards the hospital grounds, Trousdale took a moment to unfold the paper and read its contents. Hose’s usually articulate handwriting was rather shaky and obviously labored but it was clear that the list contained an extensive list detailing recommended posthumous promotions and awards. One in particular stood out to Trousdale on the top of the page with its thick and deliberate underlining.
Boy Louis Blanchet - Recommended for the Victoria Cross.
AN: Please understand the lack of any links, photos or questionable grammar for this chapter as it is my second largest by word count I believe and I been working at this one for awhile into some long nights. This should signify a return to form for fairly regular weekly uploads to return but how much those words from my mean anything is up for debate haha. Please enjoy and as always, great thanks to anybody still sticking with this story after a few months of hiatus.