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?
The German Navy had paid a heavy price, but they were in San Francisco Bay. The city’s waterfront was burning. Could surrender be far behind? If the army had accomplished half what it had intended to do, the Americans would come crawling as they realized that their position in San Francisco was utterly untenable.
Better, the future of the German Navy would be golden.
Josh Cornell and the rest of the joint Army-Navy headquarters staff could only stare helplessly as the German warships bulled their way through the channel and into San Francisco Bay.
So much for our well-laid plans, he thought bitterly. All the digging of fortifications and the dragging of guns through the city had been for naught. The German warships had pounded the American works to dust. Yes, they had badly damaged, perhaps sunk, at least two of the enemy ships, and others had been hurt to varying degrees, but the remainder were now safely ensconced in the bay.
“Will we surrender?”
The question came from a Hearst reporter who had managed to attach himself to the group. Both Liggett and Sims glared at him. “Hell no,” Sims said. “I have not yet begun to fight.”
Liggett shook his head sadly, “Not very original but my sentiments exactly.” He spotted Cornell. “Is Firefly ready to commence?”
Josh looked at the sky. It was cloudy and gloomy. Twilight would arrive fairly soon. “In a short while, sir.”
A very young Army private ran up. He was filthy and out of breath. He looked at both Sims and Liggett in confusion. He’d doubtless never seen an admiral or a general and now he had both to contend with.
“Report to me, son,” Liggett said gently.
The private took a deep breath. “General Bullard’s respects, sir, but the Krauts have broken through and are only a couple of miles away.”
Joe Flower and Tomas Montoya had taken the freed American prisoners under their wing. They now had another hundred and fifty mouths to feed and shelter. Fortunately, the Germans had squirreled away enough foodstuffs to solve that problem for the foreseeable future. The Germans had also left enough clothing to cover the raggedy prisoners although a few grumbled at having to wear portions of German uniforms. When asked if they preferred going naked, they stopped complaining, although they took steps to ensure they didn’t look too much like German soldiers.
They had rifles and ammunition enough, again thanks to the German stockpiles, but what they didn’t have was real numbers or a destination. With potentially angry Mexicans to the south and definitely angry Germans to the north, there was no safe place to go. The decision was made to stay put and hope for a rescue, while evading German patrols.
That the Germans were interested in what was going on in Raleigh was obvious. Small patrols from San Diego scouted the area routinely, but were kept away with only minor skirmishing. Dubbins had been killed in one such fight. Nobody mourned him. Without vengeance as a motive, he’d taken to stealing things from the other Americans.
No major German force had yet shown up, but they felt it was only a matter of time. To forestall this, they had taken to the hills. It meant sleeping in tents or out of doors, but it might ensure safety. Captain Barnes and his men moved about a mile away and out of sight.
Flower and Montoya had chosen what they felt was a good defensive position facing west toward German-occupied San Diego. They were on a hill and in the distance they could see the abandoned prison camp. They both were shocked and angry when they suddenly realized that a large force of mounted men had just been spotted approaching from the east. Although too distant to make out specifics, it was clearly a military outfit, but whose? They didn’t ride in a crisp formation like the Germans. They were more like a gaggle of geese, like the Mexicans. Only, they didn’t seem to be Mexicans. At least Flower and Montoya were out of sight. With some irony, they were in the rabbit holes made by the late and unlamented Dubbins when he was spying on the camp.