It can happen anywhere, with any language. A friend of mine was in France, and didn't speak French. The hotel clerk didn't speak English, German, Japanese, or Yiddish, and she just wanted some aspirin. She muttered a curse in Klingon--someone looked up. She told the other Klingon speaker what she wanted, he told the clerk, and shortly thereafter, she had what she needed.
The Rainbow. A World War One on Canada's West Coast Timeline
- Thread starter YYJ
- Start date
It can happen anywhere, with any language. A friend of mine was in France, and didn't speak French. The hotel clerk didn't speak English, German, Japanese, or Yiddish, and she just wanted some aspirin. She muttered a curse in Klingon--someone looked up. She told the other Klingon speaker what she wanted, he told the clerk, and shortly thereafter, she had what she needed.
Driftless
Donor
Truth is stranger than fiction.These examples folks have provided circle back to YYJ's plot point having Captain Fry verbally poke about till he found the appropriate language (Polish). That often serendipitous common communication link surfaces more often than we think it does.
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And if things go wrong, no one understands anyone because they lapse into their own dialects and keep getting louder and more frustrated. We were doing a gun shoot, the director operator was from Samoa, the Mount Captain was from Samoa, but a different island, with a different dialect, and the Upper Handling phone talker was from the P.I. CIC had a white guy on the line. By the end of the gun ex the two Samoans were yelling at each other, cursing in English, which was the only thing the Filipino phone talker could tell me (I was in charge of Upper Handling), pretty hysterical looking at it from a few years perspective. We changed out the Director Operator and Upper Handling Phone talker. Didn't have problems any more, but this does show what happens when people panic or loose control, they go back to their native dialect.
A breeze off the sea
Aug 17, 2115 hours. Prince Rupert
Fry ordered Fletcher to keep patrolling, and moved to lead the group, with his detachment. When his men noticed that some of the Russian stretcher bearers were almost as badly wounded as the men on the stretchers, they slung their rifles and grabbed an end themselves. As they walked, Fry asked the Anadyr’s petty officer questions.
“What happened to your ship?” he asked. “Were you attacked by a cruiser?” The chain of translation took the question back and forth.
“First, a small liner, with three funnels.” he answered. The Russian used his hands vigorously when he talked, and he held up three fingers.
“The Prince Rupert.” said Fry. The petty officer gestured at the city, and wrinkled his eyebrows. “Yes, the ship, the city, same name.”
“The small liner tried to capture us, so we shot it up. Then the cruiser came and torpedoed us. Many dead. We had more than 200 men an hour ago.” He made the gesture of a cross with his hand.
The survivor party came to a long set of wooden stairs leading up to the city.
“And you saw the cruiser. Can you describe it?” asked Fry.
“Things happened very quickly. Three funnels, light cruiser… I could not identify it by name. German light cruisers all look much the same. I would expect it to be one from the East Asiatic Squadron from Tsingtao. We saw them in China back in the peace. That would make it the Emden, Leipzig, or Nürnberg.”
The men’s breathing got heavier as they climbed the stairs. Fry felt a bit of a breeze off the sea cooling his forehead. When they reached the top at Third Avenue, some of the Russians were winded, from carrying their comrades or from their own injuries. A flat deck Ford truck with Howe & McNulty Hardware painted on the door came slowly down the road. Fry commandeered the truck and the worst stretcher cases were put 5 on the back deck and 2 crossways on the hood. The truck proceeded at a walking pace, with men beside to stabilizing the stretchers, along the plank road to the General Hospital.
Prince Rupert Fire Automobiles. Photos from the Prince Rupert Archives. princerupertarchives.ca
Fry ordered Fletcher to keep patrolling, and moved to lead the group, with his detachment. When his men noticed that some of the Russian stretcher bearers were almost as badly wounded as the men on the stretchers, they slung their rifles and grabbed an end themselves. As they walked, Fry asked the Anadyr’s petty officer questions.
“What happened to your ship?” he asked. “Were you attacked by a cruiser?” The chain of translation took the question back and forth.
“First, a small liner, with three funnels.” he answered. The Russian used his hands vigorously when he talked, and he held up three fingers.
“The Prince Rupert.” said Fry. The petty officer gestured at the city, and wrinkled his eyebrows. “Yes, the ship, the city, same name.”
“The small liner tried to capture us, so we shot it up. Then the cruiser came and torpedoed us. Many dead. We had more than 200 men an hour ago.” He made the gesture of a cross with his hand.
The survivor party came to a long set of wooden stairs leading up to the city.
“And you saw the cruiser. Can you describe it?” asked Fry.
“Things happened very quickly. Three funnels, light cruiser… I could not identify it by name. German light cruisers all look much the same. I would expect it to be one from the East Asiatic Squadron from Tsingtao. We saw them in China back in the peace. That would make it the Emden, Leipzig, or Nürnberg.”
The men’s breathing got heavier as they climbed the stairs. Fry felt a bit of a breeze off the sea cooling his forehead. When they reached the top at Third Avenue, some of the Russians were winded, from carrying their comrades or from their own injuries. A flat deck Ford truck with Howe & McNulty Hardware painted on the door came slowly down the road. Fry commandeered the truck and the worst stretcher cases were put 5 on the back deck and 2 crossways on the hood. The truck proceeded at a walking pace, with men beside to stabilizing the stretchers, along the plank road to the General Hospital.
Prince Rupert Fire Automobiles. Photos from the Prince Rupert Archives. princerupertarchives.ca
The three funneled ships are hard to hide. I doubt they get much information out of all this, but if they plan to continue raiding with another vessel, they need to ditch the three funneled ones. Too hard to disguise, too easy to spot. You can add false funnels, but you can't hide any. Funnels are one of the quickest ways to eliminate large sections of "what ship is that really" when you are in doubt.
A moment of silence
Aug 17, 2130 hours SMS Nürnberg, Chatham Sound.
The fog had thinned somewhat, and visibility had increased to a kilometer. Von Schönberg could feel the hint of a breeze. From the north came the sound of a foghorn that Radl said was from a lighthouse. At the edge of the fog to the south he could see a tree lined shore. The sea was nearly flat, a grey plain under a grey dome. The light was fading as dusk overtook the coast. It had been a long day.
The ships of Nürnberg’s flotilla ware gathered around. Bengrove, Desalba, and Galiano stood off at a respectful distance. SMS Prince Rupert was lashed to the cruiser’s starboard rail and in turn was still lashed alongside the Princess Charlotte. More than 50 men were assembled on Prince Rupert’s damaged stern promenade decks. Von Schönberg stood on Nurnberg’s fantail, surrounded by as many crew as could be spared from the ship’s vital operations. All held their caps in hand.
“Oh God, the great Creator of Heaven and Earth,” Von Schönberg read, “thou dost whatsoever thou pleasest in the Sea, and in all deep Places; I, the most unworthiest of all thy Servants, am at this time called upon to behold thy Wonders in the Deep, and to perform my Duty in great Waters. Guide me, I beseech thee, in all times and in all Places: Be thou our skilful Pilot to Steer us, and protect us from all Dangers, and rebuke the Winds and the Seas when they Molest us; preserve our Vessel from being rent by the loud cracks of Thunder, or from being burnt by Lightning or any other Accident; keep us and save us from Tempestuous Weather, from bitter Frosts, Hail, Ice, Snow, or Whirlwinds, and from Captivity and Slavery.”
Von Schönberg said a few words about each of the recently deceased crewmen. Their seven corpses lay wrapped in canvas, in two groups each covered with a Naval Ensign. Two bundles lay on the fantail of Nürnberg, five on the lower promenade deck at the stern of the Prince Rupert, right below the bent and blackened gun mount where three of the men had died.
A gap opened in the fog. A ray of sunshine shone through from the sunset to the west. The water was painted turquoise. Some of the attending sailors gasped.
The Naval ensigns were lifted and folded. A party of seven riflemen fired three volleys.
Again Von Schönberg read, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me lie down in green pastures;
He layeth me beside quiet waters.
He restoreth my soul;
He guideth me in the paths of righteousness for the sake of His name.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
for Thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
The planks supporting the bundles were tipped up in turn, and the seven dead men sank into the waters of Chatham Sound. A moment of silence was observed.
The silence continued as the men returned to their stations. Nürnberg cast off. Shortly after, the Princess Charlotte cast off from the Prince Rupert. Five minutes later, when the other ships had withdrawn to a safe distance, explosions sounded, and small grey bursts of smoke rose from Prince Rupert’s forward hold, funnels, and ventilators. At first the ship seemed untouched, then she slowly began to settle by the stern. Many men stood at the rail to watch Prince Rupert’s final moments, including Von Schönberg, Von Spee, and Radl.
Her stern disappeared beneath the water, and a great boiling of escaping air wracked the surface. The ship seemed to rotate on an axis below her third funnel. When her bow had reared in the air to a forty-five degree angle, her forward funnel tore loose, and fell against the second, knocking both into the water. As she slid stern first into the depths, her bow continued to rise until it was almost vertical. Her bridge structure slipped below the surface, then she hesitated. Her stern had struck bottom. She stood there momentarily, then her bow lowered and sank down out of sight. The sea bubbled with escaped air, and flotsam bounded up to the surface: life rings and pieces of furniture, and a smashed life boat. The debris swirled on the eddies created by the steamer’s sinking, then slowly drifted away on the current in the last light of the day.
The fog had thinned somewhat, and visibility had increased to a kilometer. Von Schönberg could feel the hint of a breeze. From the north came the sound of a foghorn that Radl said was from a lighthouse. At the edge of the fog to the south he could see a tree lined shore. The sea was nearly flat, a grey plain under a grey dome. The light was fading as dusk overtook the coast. It had been a long day.
The ships of Nürnberg’s flotilla ware gathered around. Bengrove, Desalba, and Galiano stood off at a respectful distance. SMS Prince Rupert was lashed to the cruiser’s starboard rail and in turn was still lashed alongside the Princess Charlotte. More than 50 men were assembled on Prince Rupert’s damaged stern promenade decks. Von Schönberg stood on Nurnberg’s fantail, surrounded by as many crew as could be spared from the ship’s vital operations. All held their caps in hand.
“Oh God, the great Creator of Heaven and Earth,” Von Schönberg read, “thou dost whatsoever thou pleasest in the Sea, and in all deep Places; I, the most unworthiest of all thy Servants, am at this time called upon to behold thy Wonders in the Deep, and to perform my Duty in great Waters. Guide me, I beseech thee, in all times and in all Places: Be thou our skilful Pilot to Steer us, and protect us from all Dangers, and rebuke the Winds and the Seas when they Molest us; preserve our Vessel from being rent by the loud cracks of Thunder, or from being burnt by Lightning or any other Accident; keep us and save us from Tempestuous Weather, from bitter Frosts, Hail, Ice, Snow, or Whirlwinds, and from Captivity and Slavery.”
Von Schönberg said a few words about each of the recently deceased crewmen. Their seven corpses lay wrapped in canvas, in two groups each covered with a Naval Ensign. Two bundles lay on the fantail of Nürnberg, five on the lower promenade deck at the stern of the Prince Rupert, right below the bent and blackened gun mount where three of the men had died.
A gap opened in the fog. A ray of sunshine shone through from the sunset to the west. The water was painted turquoise. Some of the attending sailors gasped.
The Naval ensigns were lifted and folded. A party of seven riflemen fired three volleys.
Again Von Schönberg read, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me lie down in green pastures;
He layeth me beside quiet waters.
He restoreth my soul;
He guideth me in the paths of righteousness for the sake of His name.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
for Thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
The planks supporting the bundles were tipped up in turn, and the seven dead men sank into the waters of Chatham Sound. A moment of silence was observed.
The silence continued as the men returned to their stations. Nürnberg cast off. Shortly after, the Princess Charlotte cast off from the Prince Rupert. Five minutes later, when the other ships had withdrawn to a safe distance, explosions sounded, and small grey bursts of smoke rose from Prince Rupert’s forward hold, funnels, and ventilators. At first the ship seemed untouched, then she slowly began to settle by the stern. Many men stood at the rail to watch Prince Rupert’s final moments, including Von Schönberg, Von Spee, and Radl.
Her stern disappeared beneath the water, and a great boiling of escaping air wracked the surface. The ship seemed to rotate on an axis below her third funnel. When her bow had reared in the air to a forty-five degree angle, her forward funnel tore loose, and fell against the second, knocking both into the water. As she slid stern first into the depths, her bow continued to rise until it was almost vertical. Her bridge structure slipped below the surface, then she hesitated. Her stern had struck bottom. She stood there momentarily, then her bow lowered and sank down out of sight. The sea bubbled with escaped air, and flotsam bounded up to the surface: life rings and pieces of furniture, and a smashed life boat. The debris swirled on the eddies created by the steamer’s sinking, then slowly drifted away on the current in the last light of the day.
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Nick P
Donor
And 50 years later those life rings and lifeboats wreckage will form the centrepiece of the Prince Rupert Town Museum's memorial display to the Great Raid of 1914. Attended by survivors, witnesses and family of those who were present, the attack will be a sad occasion to recall but a chance to look forward to the future.
After the marching bands and parades end, the churchmen lead the prayers, hymns are sung, politicians release more hot air and military parties fire their salutes. In the evening a handful of old men quietly gather by the riverside for one last drink. They talk softly, raise their glasses to long lost comrades and wonder at the madness and sadness of war.
After the marching bands and parades end, the churchmen lead the prayers, hymns are sung, politicians release more hot air and military parties fire their salutes. In the evening a handful of old men quietly gather by the riverside for one last drink. They talk softly, raise their glasses to long lost comrades and wonder at the madness and sadness of war.
The Prince Rupert branch of the Royal Canadian Legion maintains an annual tradition of pouring a tot of vodka on the ground at the site of the cenotaph for the crew of the Anadyr.
Triage
Aug 17, 2130 hours. Prince Rupert
The four story hospital building looked like an eccentric mansion or a schoolhouse. Fry ran ahead to alert the staff to receive casualties. The hospital, to its credit, had already called in all the doctors and medical help, including volunteers. He saw some of the Galiano’s crew in attendance. The first of the stretchers were carried in the door, then a doctor had the rest arranged outside on the plank street, while he evaluated the severity of the wounded.
“I figured this out in the Boer War,” the doctor said to Fry, as he went down the line of stretchers. “You’ve got your casualties that need urgent attention to survive, like this one,” he waved, and two bearers in Fisheries Protection uniforms carried the stretcher inside. “Then you have those that will survive in any case.” He examined a heavily bandaged young sailor who looked up at him with terrified eyes. “This one will be alright, lots of wounds, but all superficial.” The doctor looked the boy in the eyes and made the international gesture that all would be fine. The wounded sailor nodded in appreciation and clutched the doctor’s hand to his chest for a moment.
“Then you have those that are beyond saving. They, sadly, have to be put aside to give attention to the ones who still have a chance. Those Germans you sent in earlier are all close to that condition.”
“That was why they were landed here, in your capable hands,” said Fry.
“I’m sure that’s true,” said the doctor. “We are getting quite busy here. There are a dozen-odd wounded from the shipyard, and a militiaman full of shell fragments. And now about forty Russians.” Fry ended up helping to carry stretchers inside, and all were accommodated, even if they were in the hallways.
When he was done, it was fully dark. Some Russians and militiamen were milling in front of the hospital smoking. The ocean breeze was now stronger, and the fog had greatly dissipated. Looking up, Fry could see stars. The waterfront could be seen all the way from the hospital, when not obscured by clouds of drifting smoke. The city was lit by three large fires down by the water: The Grand Trunk Pacific warehouse and wharf, the coal bunker, and the shipyards. A steam tug, the Dola, that had somehow escaped the attention of the Germans, was turning its fire hoses on the wharf fire. The arcs of its steams of water were lit orange by the flames. The burning coal barges seemed to have all sunk, but the bunker on shore was still ablaze, and probably would be for a week.
The shipyard fire was by far the biggest, covering at least two city blocks. The eastern wharf, the construction shed, the ways, and machine shop were all lost to the flames, but the fire brigade seemed to have saved the administration building and power plant, as well as some auxiliary buildings. That was good, because the city got much of its electrical power from that power plant. Now that it was dark, from his raised vantage point Fry could see that the shell of the ocean liner in the midst of the fire was indeed glowing cherry red. The hull sides were drooping and curled, like a piece of birch bark.
Out in the harbour, when not obscured by smoke, he could see the profiles of at least two sailing ships. So the Germans had not sunk everything.
Fry cursed. He realized suddenly that he had become focussed on what was directly in front of him; the wounded, and lost track of his role as leader. His first duty right now was to re-establish communication with his chain of command in Victoria, and report to them the situation here in Prince Rupert. He also realized that he had, almost four hours ago, decided to send a boat to Anyox to make contact, and had become distracted and failed to issue the order.
He saw Lieutenant Pope, late of the Galiano, talking with one of his junior officers in the hospital doorway. He walked over. “Your men are doing good work here,” Fry said.
Pope nodded. “You never know, we may find ourselves digging graves, like you said. Those Russians sure got it in the teeth. Each one of them I look at makes me think that it could easily be my boys in their place.”
“Providence,” said Fry. “Lieutenant, does the Fisheries Protection Service have any vessels remaining in the area? We need to establish communications again.” Pope looked at Fry with scepticism. “Non combatant role. If you have men under your command in town who did not sign a parole contract, use them. Or you could dress your men in civilian clothes. As long as you are not bearing arms you are honouring the agreement.”
“I suppose,” replied Pope. “Those Germans could be anywhere though.”
“All the more reason we need to get the word out,” said Fry.
“The Ka Yex is at anchor in the harbour,” said Pope, “if she didn’t get shelled or run over. She’s a gasoline powered launch. The Linnet is half way to Anyox at Nass Harbour Cannery. The Hawk is on the Skeena River patrol, at Port Essington. Both are gasoline launches as well.”
Fry rubbed his temples. He needn’t bother asking if the launches had wireless sets, he knew they were too small. The first priority was to get word to Victoria. He took a very dog-eared folded map out of his tunic pocket and studied it for a moment. “See what crew you can scrape up, and take the Linnet to the Inverness Cannery. By my guess they are past the cut in the telegraph line.”
“That will take a bit more than an hour at 12 knots,” said Pope, “from when we cast off.”
“Better get started then,” said Fry. He was gradually becoming aware of a buzz of angry voices approaching.
Pope turned to go, then said, “What the hell is that?”
A gang of well over a hundred unruly civilians was advancing down the 5th street plank road.
https://princerupertarchives.ca/search/detail-bare.php?ID=9346
The four story hospital building looked like an eccentric mansion or a schoolhouse. Fry ran ahead to alert the staff to receive casualties. The hospital, to its credit, had already called in all the doctors and medical help, including volunteers. He saw some of the Galiano’s crew in attendance. The first of the stretchers were carried in the door, then a doctor had the rest arranged outside on the plank street, while he evaluated the severity of the wounded.
“I figured this out in the Boer War,” the doctor said to Fry, as he went down the line of stretchers. “You’ve got your casualties that need urgent attention to survive, like this one,” he waved, and two bearers in Fisheries Protection uniforms carried the stretcher inside. “Then you have those that will survive in any case.” He examined a heavily bandaged young sailor who looked up at him with terrified eyes. “This one will be alright, lots of wounds, but all superficial.” The doctor looked the boy in the eyes and made the international gesture that all would be fine. The wounded sailor nodded in appreciation and clutched the doctor’s hand to his chest for a moment.
“Then you have those that are beyond saving. They, sadly, have to be put aside to give attention to the ones who still have a chance. Those Germans you sent in earlier are all close to that condition.”
“That was why they were landed here, in your capable hands,” said Fry.
“I’m sure that’s true,” said the doctor. “We are getting quite busy here. There are a dozen-odd wounded from the shipyard, and a militiaman full of shell fragments. And now about forty Russians.” Fry ended up helping to carry stretchers inside, and all were accommodated, even if they were in the hallways.
When he was done, it was fully dark. Some Russians and militiamen were milling in front of the hospital smoking. The ocean breeze was now stronger, and the fog had greatly dissipated. Looking up, Fry could see stars. The waterfront could be seen all the way from the hospital, when not obscured by clouds of drifting smoke. The city was lit by three large fires down by the water: The Grand Trunk Pacific warehouse and wharf, the coal bunker, and the shipyards. A steam tug, the Dola, that had somehow escaped the attention of the Germans, was turning its fire hoses on the wharf fire. The arcs of its steams of water were lit orange by the flames. The burning coal barges seemed to have all sunk, but the bunker on shore was still ablaze, and probably would be for a week.
The shipyard fire was by far the biggest, covering at least two city blocks. The eastern wharf, the construction shed, the ways, and machine shop were all lost to the flames, but the fire brigade seemed to have saved the administration building and power plant, as well as some auxiliary buildings. That was good, because the city got much of its electrical power from that power plant. Now that it was dark, from his raised vantage point Fry could see that the shell of the ocean liner in the midst of the fire was indeed glowing cherry red. The hull sides were drooping and curled, like a piece of birch bark.
Out in the harbour, when not obscured by smoke, he could see the profiles of at least two sailing ships. So the Germans had not sunk everything.
Fry cursed. He realized suddenly that he had become focussed on what was directly in front of him; the wounded, and lost track of his role as leader. His first duty right now was to re-establish communication with his chain of command in Victoria, and report to them the situation here in Prince Rupert. He also realized that he had, almost four hours ago, decided to send a boat to Anyox to make contact, and had become distracted and failed to issue the order.
He saw Lieutenant Pope, late of the Galiano, talking with one of his junior officers in the hospital doorway. He walked over. “Your men are doing good work here,” Fry said.
Pope nodded. “You never know, we may find ourselves digging graves, like you said. Those Russians sure got it in the teeth. Each one of them I look at makes me think that it could easily be my boys in their place.”
“Providence,” said Fry. “Lieutenant, does the Fisheries Protection Service have any vessels remaining in the area? We need to establish communications again.” Pope looked at Fry with scepticism. “Non combatant role. If you have men under your command in town who did not sign a parole contract, use them. Or you could dress your men in civilian clothes. As long as you are not bearing arms you are honouring the agreement.”
“I suppose,” replied Pope. “Those Germans could be anywhere though.”
“All the more reason we need to get the word out,” said Fry.
“The Ka Yex is at anchor in the harbour,” said Pope, “if she didn’t get shelled or run over. She’s a gasoline powered launch. The Linnet is half way to Anyox at Nass Harbour Cannery. The Hawk is on the Skeena River patrol, at Port Essington. Both are gasoline launches as well.”
Fry rubbed his temples. He needn’t bother asking if the launches had wireless sets, he knew they were too small. The first priority was to get word to Victoria. He took a very dog-eared folded map out of his tunic pocket and studied it for a moment. “See what crew you can scrape up, and take the Linnet to the Inverness Cannery. By my guess they are past the cut in the telegraph line.”
“That will take a bit more than an hour at 12 knots,” said Pope, “from when we cast off.”
“Better get started then,” said Fry. He was gradually becoming aware of a buzz of angry voices approaching.
Pope turned to go, then said, “What the hell is that?”
A gang of well over a hundred unruly civilians was advancing down the 5th street plank road.
https://princerupertarchives.ca/search/detail-bare.php?ID=9346
We are not Visigoths
Aug 17, 2215 SMS Nürnberg, Chatham Sound.
A breeze ruffled the Imperial Ensign on Nürnberg’s mainmast. Von Schönberg looked up and saw patches of indigo sky poking through gaps in the fog. To the west he watched the smoke from Hexham and Desalba, his new auxiliary fleet, silhouetted against the last of the red sunset. These ships had been ordered to sail west offshore, then turn south and head for a position off Vancouver Island and wait, out of the shipping lanes.
Von Schönbeg called a meeting of officers on the Nürnberg.
Radl briefed the officers. “Obviously, the Port of Vancouver is the primary industrial target on this coast.” He had placed a large scale chart on the officer’s mess table and was pointing as he spoke. “The city of Victoria is also a major seaport, and adjoins Esquimalt, the Royal Navy’s base on the west coast of North America. The ports of Ladysmith, Nanaimo, and Union Bay where Vancouver Island’s substantial amount of high quality coal is loaded.”
“Vancouver harbour can be expected to be full of shipping. It also has dock facilities and a railhead, a shipyard, an oil refinery, and good numbers of sawmills. Victoria will also have shipping and docks, shipyards, a chemical factory, and sawmills. Esquimalt has the only dry dock the Royal Navy can use on this side of the Pacific, as well as every facility you would expect at a naval base. Esquimalt and Victoria are defended by forts. As far as I know, Vancouver has no coastal artillery at all.”
Von Schönberg took over to describe the defences. “Our agents confirmed that right up until the commencement of hostilities, Canada had only one obsolescent Apollo class cruiser on the west coast, and the Royal Navy has two sloops based out of Esquimalt. Whereabouts unknown, but most likely at or near Esquimalt. None of these warships pose a threat, although we cannot afford to suffer damage in a naval battle. We are so far from His Majesty’s dockyards. The Royal Navy did not have any ships within reach of the west coast of Canada when we left Honolulu, save those two sloops. I cannot see how any could arrive before us, even if they came through the Panama Canal. Japan will not be expected to enter the war until August 23rd at the earliest.”
“The naval intelligence reports on the fortifications defending Esquimalt say there are two batteries of 15 cm guns, and three batteries of 7.5 cm guns. The 15 cm guns are on antiquated disappearing carriages, with an expected rate of fire of one round per minute and a range of 8000 meters. The batteries are not much of a deterrent, but they will prevent our entrance to Victoria or Esquimalt harbours. The intelligence report goes on to say there was also a planned battery of two 23 cm guns, but these were not completed before the Royal Navy handed the base to the Canadians in 1905, and the gun barrels were left rusting in a ditch.” Von Schönberg paused. “23 cm guns. I hope this report is current. The 15 cm guns only range half way to the boundary with the United States, so we can run past them without a danger of violating American neutrality. If we must run past the forts, I prefer to do it at night.”
“There is an alternate route to Vancouver and Victoria,” said Radl. “The Inside Passage is a sheltered route from Vancouver to Prince Rupert. Well, really all the way from Seattle to Juneau. It is like the channel to Anyox, but more than 500 miles long. A natural canal between coastal islands and the main land. When the trade routes across the Pacific were shut down, because of you, domestic shipping was able to continue along it. If we want to take prizes heading south, this is where we should go.
“Mr. Radl, what are there in the way of industrial targets as we travel down the coast to Vancouver?”
“Fish canneries.” Replied Radl. “More than one can count. It is a wonder there are any fish left. Plenty of sawmills. There are also at least two pulp mills on the north coast. Swanson Bay and Ocean Falls. The coal ports are further south on the east coast of Vancouver Island.
“Fish canneries and sawmills do not interest me as targets.” Said Von Schönberg. “I understand they make some nominal contribution to the war effort, and their production could be interpreted to be contraband, but where do we stop? Do we burn down every hardware store and greengrocer in Canada? We are not Visigoths. We are not here to pull down laundry lines and smash the dishes.”
“Pulp mills, however, are clearly military targets. Cellulose is an ingredient in guncotton, so pulp mills are part of the munitions industry. The coal ports are too tempting to leave unmolested. I would like to destroy the oil refinery and chemical factory, if we can reach them. Shipyards again, if possible. And whatever shipping is in the harbour. Esquimalt Naval Base needs to be roughly handled, especially the dry dock. But we are unable to treat it the way we did to the one in Prince Rupert just now. The forts will keep us at a distance. The best we can do is bombardment from long range. Even if only for the symbolic value. Any other thoughts?”
“Isn’t there a trans-Pacific cable station somewhere?” asked Lieutenant Von Spee.
“Yes,” replied Radl. “At Bamfield. In Barkley Sound”
“Well, we have to cut that,” said Von Schönberg. “And we are going right there anyway.”
“We have one more order of business,” declared Von Schönberg. As you know, Mr.Radl has been serving us as a civilian pilot. But we are a ship of war, engaged in hostilities.” Radl perked up, not knowing what came next.
“As captain of a detached warship,” Von Schönberg continued, “I have a great deal of discretion. At the first opportunity, I plan to contact our military chain of command, and invite our allies in Vienna to reactivate Mr. Radl from his status as a reserve officer to active duty in the KuK Kriegsmarine, and second him to us. I would expect that he will be mobilized into his former rank as Korvettenleutnant. As an acting officer in the Kaiserliche Marine, he will serve at the equivalent rank of Leutnant zur See. Since we do not always have the luxury of communication, I declare Lieutenant Radl’s commission to be effective immediately. The staff back in the Empires can fill out the paperwork on their own time.”
“Lieutenant Radl,” said Von Schönberg. Radl snapped to attention and saluted. “We would not have accomplished even a small part of what we have done here without your service. We are very much in your debt.” Von Schönberg saluted himself. “For the moment, your duties will remain the same. Quartermaster. Let’s see if we can find Lieutenant Radl a uniform.”
https://search.nbca.unbc.ca/uploads...bf8a3d1c351931e384bdb6e4679/2009_10_3_006.jpg
https://www.gent-family.com/BC/claxton.html
https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/MCR/article/view/17470/22526
A breeze ruffled the Imperial Ensign on Nürnberg’s mainmast. Von Schönberg looked up and saw patches of indigo sky poking through gaps in the fog. To the west he watched the smoke from Hexham and Desalba, his new auxiliary fleet, silhouetted against the last of the red sunset. These ships had been ordered to sail west offshore, then turn south and head for a position off Vancouver Island and wait, out of the shipping lanes.
Von Schönbeg called a meeting of officers on the Nürnberg.
Radl briefed the officers. “Obviously, the Port of Vancouver is the primary industrial target on this coast.” He had placed a large scale chart on the officer’s mess table and was pointing as he spoke. “The city of Victoria is also a major seaport, and adjoins Esquimalt, the Royal Navy’s base on the west coast of North America. The ports of Ladysmith, Nanaimo, and Union Bay where Vancouver Island’s substantial amount of high quality coal is loaded.”
“Vancouver harbour can be expected to be full of shipping. It also has dock facilities and a railhead, a shipyard, an oil refinery, and good numbers of sawmills. Victoria will also have shipping and docks, shipyards, a chemical factory, and sawmills. Esquimalt has the only dry dock the Royal Navy can use on this side of the Pacific, as well as every facility you would expect at a naval base. Esquimalt and Victoria are defended by forts. As far as I know, Vancouver has no coastal artillery at all.”
Von Schönberg took over to describe the defences. “Our agents confirmed that right up until the commencement of hostilities, Canada had only one obsolescent Apollo class cruiser on the west coast, and the Royal Navy has two sloops based out of Esquimalt. Whereabouts unknown, but most likely at or near Esquimalt. None of these warships pose a threat, although we cannot afford to suffer damage in a naval battle. We are so far from His Majesty’s dockyards. The Royal Navy did not have any ships within reach of the west coast of Canada when we left Honolulu, save those two sloops. I cannot see how any could arrive before us, even if they came through the Panama Canal. Japan will not be expected to enter the war until August 23rd at the earliest.”
“The naval intelligence reports on the fortifications defending Esquimalt say there are two batteries of 15 cm guns, and three batteries of 7.5 cm guns. The 15 cm guns are on antiquated disappearing carriages, with an expected rate of fire of one round per minute and a range of 8000 meters. The batteries are not much of a deterrent, but they will prevent our entrance to Victoria or Esquimalt harbours. The intelligence report goes on to say there was also a planned battery of two 23 cm guns, but these were not completed before the Royal Navy handed the base to the Canadians in 1905, and the gun barrels were left rusting in a ditch.” Von Schönberg paused. “23 cm guns. I hope this report is current. The 15 cm guns only range half way to the boundary with the United States, so we can run past them without a danger of violating American neutrality. If we must run past the forts, I prefer to do it at night.”
“There is an alternate route to Vancouver and Victoria,” said Radl. “The Inside Passage is a sheltered route from Vancouver to Prince Rupert. Well, really all the way from Seattle to Juneau. It is like the channel to Anyox, but more than 500 miles long. A natural canal between coastal islands and the main land. When the trade routes across the Pacific were shut down, because of you, domestic shipping was able to continue along it. If we want to take prizes heading south, this is where we should go.
“Mr. Radl, what are there in the way of industrial targets as we travel down the coast to Vancouver?”
“Fish canneries.” Replied Radl. “More than one can count. It is a wonder there are any fish left. Plenty of sawmills. There are also at least two pulp mills on the north coast. Swanson Bay and Ocean Falls. The coal ports are further south on the east coast of Vancouver Island.
“Fish canneries and sawmills do not interest me as targets.” Said Von Schönberg. “I understand they make some nominal contribution to the war effort, and their production could be interpreted to be contraband, but where do we stop? Do we burn down every hardware store and greengrocer in Canada? We are not Visigoths. We are not here to pull down laundry lines and smash the dishes.”
“Pulp mills, however, are clearly military targets. Cellulose is an ingredient in guncotton, so pulp mills are part of the munitions industry. The coal ports are too tempting to leave unmolested. I would like to destroy the oil refinery and chemical factory, if we can reach them. Shipyards again, if possible. And whatever shipping is in the harbour. Esquimalt Naval Base needs to be roughly handled, especially the dry dock. But we are unable to treat it the way we did to the one in Prince Rupert just now. The forts will keep us at a distance. The best we can do is bombardment from long range. Even if only for the symbolic value. Any other thoughts?”
“Isn’t there a trans-Pacific cable station somewhere?” asked Lieutenant Von Spee.
“Yes,” replied Radl. “At Bamfield. In Barkley Sound”
“Well, we have to cut that,” said Von Schönberg. “And we are going right there anyway.”
“We have one more order of business,” declared Von Schönberg. As you know, Mr.Radl has been serving us as a civilian pilot. But we are a ship of war, engaged in hostilities.” Radl perked up, not knowing what came next.
“As captain of a detached warship,” Von Schönberg continued, “I have a great deal of discretion. At the first opportunity, I plan to contact our military chain of command, and invite our allies in Vienna to reactivate Mr. Radl from his status as a reserve officer to active duty in the KuK Kriegsmarine, and second him to us. I would expect that he will be mobilized into his former rank as Korvettenleutnant. As an acting officer in the Kaiserliche Marine, he will serve at the equivalent rank of Leutnant zur See. Since we do not always have the luxury of communication, I declare Lieutenant Radl’s commission to be effective immediately. The staff back in the Empires can fill out the paperwork on their own time.”
“Lieutenant Radl,” said Von Schönberg. Radl snapped to attention and saluted. “We would not have accomplished even a small part of what we have done here without your service. We are very much in your debt.” Von Schönberg saluted himself. “For the moment, your duties will remain the same. Quartermaster. Let’s see if we can find Lieutenant Radl a uniform.”
https://search.nbca.unbc.ca/uploads...bf8a3d1c351931e384bdb6e4679/2009_10_3_006.jpg
https://www.gent-family.com/BC/claxton.html
https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/MCR/article/view/17470/22526
I still would not want to be in his shoes if he was captured by the Commonwealth (especially if the Commonwealth are still on the winning side of the war.)
In this time line I will be curious to hear more about the newly acquired Canadian / British Columbian submarines