November 1st, 1918
Sir Arthur Rowley gazed at Heligoland with his binoculars. The height of HMS Queen Elizabeth’s mast made it an excellent vantage point. The island was heavily fortified with a dreadnought’s worth of heavy guns, supported by an equally impressive number of light caliber guns. He had always regretted the loss of the strategically valuable island, and he was thrilled to get a chance to reclaim it.
It had been slow going to get the Allied Fleet this far into the German Bight. A number of minesweepers had been picked off by the few remaining German warships capable of coming out to fight. German minelayers had also endeavored to replant each field that was swept. Yet after much effort and exertion, Rowley had been able to bring up his entire battle line, an amphibious group made of the newly formed Royal Marine Division and two regiments of American marines, and the newfangled HMS Argus.
Rowley shifted his gaze from the Heligoland to the troop transports. The X Lighters were lashed to the decks of the troopships. Gallipoli had taught the Navy about the need for specialized landing craft, and the need for speed in getting troops into them and on the beach. The plan was simple; the 15-inch gun battleships would work the island over, careful to stay out of the enemy’s range. Once the guns were silenced, the amphibious force would run in, lower the x lighters, and the marines would storm ashore. The new Hawkins cruisers and some V-class destroyers would provide close artillery support.
He looked at his four junior aides. All of them had done particularly well during their time with him. He was glad that they were all there with him, in at the death of the German Empire. The Allies were already poised to kick the Germans out of France and Belgium. The German Army was collapsing, and Rowley was certain that the end of the war was near at hand.
He looked at his watch. It was 7:28, and the bombardment would commence in two minutes. Rowley shifted his away from the island and to the distant HMS Argus. Her aviation crews were maneuvering her strike aircraft into a takeoff formation on her deck. The air bombs that the carrier planes could drop would be useless against so much concrete and steel, but some mad genius had figured out a way to fill them with gas. They were going to drop gas bombs on the fortification after the preliminary bombardment in order to stun or flush out anyone left alive. The shrill whine of alert klaxons brought Rowley’s attention back to Heligoland just as the fleet opened fire.
The bombardment was indescribable. The smoke periodically obscured the island, but spotter planes fired off colored flares visible from the mast to let the battleships know that they had found the mark. The shelling dulled all sense of time, and a full hour passed before the gunfire (carefully aimed and fired) died away.
A loud droning filled the sky as the planes from HMS Argus flew over. They dropped their science experiments on the battered ruins of the fort and Rowley winced as they burst open. Gas warfare was not something he’d seen, and it had gone against his inclination to use it for this attack. However, the danger of keeping gas bombs aboard ship meant that the bombs were filled with non-lethal tear gas, and so Rowley had been able to agree with a clear conscience on the matter. It wouldn’t do anyone exposed to it any good, but it shouldn’t be lethal. A few minutes after the bombs exploded, the X-lighters, filled with troops, began their slow pace towards the few landing spots.
As they progressed, a small band of Germans climbed out of the wreckage, and disappeared behind a wall of wrecked concrete. Through the entirely one-sided action, the German flagpole had somehow managed to stay upright. As the first lighters approached the landing beach, the Germans flag started to come down. Those in the mast cheered, but then the flag abruptly halted, only to start down again a few moments later.
An hour passed before the senior surviving German was brought aboard to formally surrender the island to Rowley. Rowley met him on the quarterdeck.
“Lieutenant Schneider Sir,” he said. “29th Reserve Infantry Regiment of the Bavarian Army.” He had his dress sword in his hand and held it out. “As senior officer standing, I tender the surrender of the Heligoland Fortress to you.”
“No!” Rowley said, interrupting him. “You must keep your sword.”
“Thank You Sir,” He said stiffly. “I prefer not to keep it. We made no effective resistance.”
“That was hardly your fault,” Rowley said. “This operation was planned in a manner that ensured that you would be unable to respond.”
“It was successful in that regard,” Schneider replied. “The Naval Commandant wanted to haul down the flag as soon as you came into sight, but his second in command was determined to make at least the show of a fight.”
“I’m sorry that he was inclined that way,” Rowley said. “I regret the further loss of life, particularly when it accomplished no good purpose. Did any of the other officers on the island survive?”
“My captain is still alive, though he is badly wounded,” Schneider answered. “Once your bombardment finished, he knew that we could either surrender or be destroyed. The gas only made the situation worse.”
“Wounded in the bombardment?” Rowley said. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“No apologies are needed sir,” Schneider replied. “He was not wounded in the shelling. He was shot by a corporal: a recently arrived man who was fanatical about the need to fight on. My captain was lowering the flag and he shot him in the back.” Schneider replied. "I’m the most senior officer still standing. And as such, may I ask two favors of you?”
“What do you need?” Rowley said.
“Our doctor was killed during the shelling. Could some of your medical personnel be sent ashore? Our medical orderlies are overwhelmed.”
“Certainly,” Rowley said. “Mr. Jacobs, go down to signals and make the necessary arrangements with the landing force. And your second favor?”
“The corporal that shot my Captain,” Schneider said. “I have him in irons in our motor launch. Might I place him in your flagship’s cells? We lack suitable facilities to hold him, and once we are repatriated, he will have to stand trial.”
“We’ll take him into custody directly.” Rowley said. “Mr. Nimitz, go down to the Captain and ask him to see to it. Is that all Lieutenant?”
“Yes Sir,” Schneider said. “Do I have permission to return ashore?”
“Yes,” Rowley replied. They exchanged salutes, and the meeting ended.
Rowley gazed again at the distant island. A Union flag flew from the flagpole above the carnage. He sighed to himself; it had all been so unnecessary. Yet this feeling of lament did not last long. The end of the war was in sight.