Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

“Mr. Griffith, I am about to let you in on at least one military secret. The German fleet is going to force the channel and wind up in San Francisco Bay. Therefore I would suggest you have at least one of your men on the Oakland side to watch what is going to happen when they begin to duel with our other guns.”

“And what will happen, Elise?”

She smiled grimly. “Admiral Sims wishes to destroy them all. It is something called Firefly.”

Captain Horst Richter urged his men forward, “Hurry, you ugly sons of bitches! Move or they’ll kill you.”

The Alpine troops, the Austrian “volunteers,” had done a marvelous job of picking a path through the American wire and other defenses. Now it was time for the shock troops, the spearpoint of Hutier’s attack on San Francisco, to make their move.

According to plan, the artillery barrage had been short and intense, just enough to keep the Americans’ heads down. When it lifted, the first line of his shock troops were within a hundred yards of the American trenches and through the wire that had been cut the night before by the Austrians. Up and over, the Germans went, screaming like wild men, shooting and stabbing at anything that moved. In the face of such ferocity, American resistance wavered and soldiers fell back. Some gathered themselves and tried to retake ground seized by the Germans. The fighting was bloody and intense.

Richter shot an American defender in the face with his Luger. “Forward!” he screamed. “Keep moving forward. Leave them for the follow-up troops.”

In the heat of battle, most of his exhortations were lost and he had to physically grab men, sending them out of this trench and onward to others. The breach made was small, and others would widen it. A German fell dead beside him. The Americans were recovering and fighting back. Too late, he exulted. He waved his men forward.

Richter and a score of his fighters emerged from the American trenches. Some astonished rear-echelon soldiers either ran or tried to surrender. Richter ignored them. His little band pressed forward. He looked behind and saw more coal-scuttle helmets and soldiers in field gray. He laughed. They were through. Hutier’s tactics were working.

He paused and looked forward. In the distance he could not yet see downtown San Francisco, but buildings and houses were in plain view. More important, there was no sign of any further American defenses. They were through and before him lay the city of San Francisco. Richter knew he had to wait, if only a little while. Twenty men would not take the city. Nor could a few hundred. Others were joining him as the breach was widened, but it would be a while before he had an attack force. He laughed as he saw that Hutier was joining them. The old general was out of shape and breathing heavily. His once immaculate uniform was filthy, but he was grinning happily.

“Excellent work, Richter. You will be promoted and given a medal.”

“Thank you, sir, but it was all your idea. The men really executed it.”

“No modesty, please. Now, let us gather a force and head to San Francisco. Great God, we have waited so long for this. With a little bit of luck, we will have supper in the officers’ club at their Presidio. Perhaps General Liggett will join us, eh?”

Richter grinned impishly. “Perhaps we can serve him humble pie.”

Admiral Hipper was not a coward, so it galled him to place his flagship, the mighty Bayern , fifth in the line of ships steaming towards the Golden Gate and the confines of San Francisco Bay. It galled him, but it was necessary. The American shore batteries would be strong and deadly as the ships passed through the narrow confines of the curiously named Golden Gate.

The Nassau and Posen would lead. They were older and had smaller guns than the other ships. They would be the sacrificial lambs or “forlorn hopes” whose job was to duel with the shore batteries and destroy them. If they were sunk or damaged, so be it. It would be a bitter price, but far less than losing the Bayern . All ten German battleships were present, but Hipper had to keep in mind the fact that there were three American battleships loose in the Pacific. He would need the Bayern ’s fifteen-inch guns if they should show up.

Equally perturbing was the fact that the British squadron under Beatty had also left Puget Sound. It was presumed that they were en route to their base at Hong Kong, but then came the word that a second large British detachment had sailed from Hong Kong and was on its way God only knew where. A rendezvous with Beatty? If so, why?

The remaining German ships off Puget Sound had gotten a measure of revenge. With all the capital ships gone and her forts without guns, a handful of cruisers and destroyers had entered the sound and bombarded Seattle’s waterfront, causing extensive damage and large fires. Explosions were noted by the German captains and they could only have been ammunition stored for shipment south to the Americans in San Francisco.

Gunfire brought his attention back to reality. The Posen and Nassau had begun dueling with the Yank guns as they advanced. Splashes near the warships lifted water high and the Germans were able to estimate their weight. Twelve-inch and eight-inch guns were the largest and there were more of the sixes, especially firing down from Alcatraz Island.

The spacing between ships was greater than he would have liked, but he was acutely aware that his lead ships might be hit and disabled, and a ship dead in the water was a collision danger. His ships needed room to maneuver.

The Nassau was already burning. He swore and pounded his fist on the railing of the bridge. “It cannot be helped, sir,” Canaris said. Hipper was not comforted. Those were good German sailors dying on the battleship.

Still, she was steaming forward, although at a much slower speed and the Posen was already almost through the channel. Now the other, larger ships, including the Bayern , entered the fray. The thunder of the other ships’ great guns shook the Bayern even though she was a mile away. The American batteries continued to fire, but there were fewer guns and their rate of fire was much slower.

It was suggested that everyone don earplugs and the men complied. A moment later and the Bayern ’s guns joined the others. Despite the earplugs, the sound was deafening. The shock wave almost knocked them over. The firing from the shore ceased. Hipper exulted. In moments they would be in the bay.

A shell struck the hull of the Bayern , just beneath the bridge. Hipper and others were thrown to the deck, and there were screams from the wounded. Not all the American guns had been silenced, Hipper thought bitterly.

The damage report came quickly. The damage was negligible. The Bayern ’s armor was almost fourteen inches thick. The Americans had nothing on shore that could penetrate it.

As they entered the bay and began to circle, the American guns facing the inner bay opened up. Again, no surprise. Spies in the city had reported on their position and the German warships quickly pulverized them.

Canaris grabbed his arm. “Sir,” he said and gestured. The Nassau was burning from stem to stern and the Posen was listing to port and sinking. Hipper cursed the Americans and he silently cursed the kaiser who had sent him only one of the four mighty fifteen-gun ships. Why hadn’t he sent at least one of the Bayern ’s sisters and left the old ships like the Nassau and Posen back in Germany?