Beaver War

The disastrous Vancouver Raids have served only to stir a sleeping giant into a thunderous fury… But his first, ponderous steps are as dangerous to those around him as to his enemy.

Shortly after America’s declaration of war on the Russian Empire and its allies in the League, the United States Navy was tasked with reinforcing the flagging Canadian fleet, both as a gesture of solidarity with their French allies and as a display of force for their new enemies in Russian Alaska. Though the chaos of the newly declared war limited what assets could be spared while the military scrambled its defense network and began to mobilize reserves, what the Navy could spare for Seattle was deemed sufficient for its purpose. A pair of cutting edge battleships, along with their supporting fleets, were chosen to rendezvous with the Vancouver fleet's remnants. They were to assist in protecting the relief efforts, with an additional sortie planned to do shoreline bombardments of Russian positions - not dedicated attacks, but “greeting knocks”.

Early in the morning, the U.S.S. Eureka and the U.S.S. Madison set out from their harbors in San Diego, being seen off by enthusiastic citizens and a now war-hungry press, eager to see America’s retribution for the devastation of Seattle. While it was not within normal protocols, a small group of civilian reporters were allowed aboard the Eureka by the ship’s fame-seeking captain, who figured that a little bit of good press coverage of the new American weapons in action wouldn’t hurt anyone.

The Americans and Canadians, having planned the rendezvous in a hurry, had made little consideration for how the two nations, one of them under the stress of two years of war and a change in government, were meant to coordinate together usefully. Many Canadian vessels bore superficial resemblance to British ones, having been engineered from similar designs, and the Canadian Navy was both weary and jumpy from the intensity of the Vancouver Raids. The Americans, likewise, were thirsty for vengeance, and while the captain of the Eureka considered this a good sign of fighting spirit with his crew, the captain of the Madison was much less enthusiastic about this operation, taking great lengths to avoid any potential disasters so early in America’s involvement.

The Madison’s captain was, much to his dismay, vindicated when in the foggy midday the Eureka made contact with a Canadian destroyer, the Clemence. The destroyer, whose radio was malfunctioning from damage sustained in the raids, attempted to use signal lights to communicate with the battleship’s escorting vessels and establish identity. The escorts, lacking experience, mistook the light for a searchlight, and the vessel for a British one, and immediately opened fire, starting what the press mockingly called the Beaver War.

The Beaver War was chaotic and explosive, with both the Canadians and Americans blinded by fog and unwilling to break contact to regather their wits. It took several hours of frantic combat before the Madison could arrive, finally bringing the conflict to a halt as the two navies came to realize their embarrassing mistake. While tempers remained high, the cooler-headed captain was able to salvage the operation into a joint patrol and impromptu training exercise, focusing on communication and maneuver with the Canadians as they escorted the relief ships.

Miraculously, there were no casualties as a result of the Beaver War, other than the pride of the American Navy and severe damage sustained by several smaller vessels. The bridge of the Eureka, notably, was struck with a shell that went completely through it from one side to the other, which did not seriously harm any of the crew aboard but was a frequently reprinted photograph in the widespread media coverage of the incident. While the press was quick to make light of this, the American media in particular was quick to try and move on, unwilling to present its own Navy as perhaps not being as ready for this war as they would like.