What Canadian Soldiers Did When a German Major Refused to Surrender
In October 1944, on the storm-lashed Dutch coast during the Battle of the Scheldt, Canadian soldiers faced a problem that artillery, courage, and sacrifice could not solve.
A single German fortress was stopping the Allied war effort.
And its commander refused to surrender.
The Fortress That Stopped the War
Along the Scheldt estuary, guarding access to Antwerp, stood a massive concrete strongpoint built as part of the Atlantic Wall. Inside were 180 German soldiers commanded by Klaus Richter. He had food for weeks, ammunition stacked floor to ceiling, and guns capable of destroying any ship that tried to reach Antwerp.
That mattered because Antwerp was the logistical key to the Allied advance. If the estuary stayed blocked, Allied armies would starve for fuel, ammunition, and supplies.
Canadian troops tried everything.
Naval bombardment
Infantry assaults
Smoke, artillery, and frontal attacks
Thirty-four Canadians were killed in just three days.
When offered honorable surrender, Richter replied coldly:
“I am a German officer. I do not negotiate. My men will fight to the last bullet.”
The Problem with Doing It “The Proper Way”
British and American commanders proposed more of the same:
Bigger naval guns
More bombardment
Another infantry assault
Canadian officers knew what that meant: more graves.
Winter storms were coming. If the fortress wasn’t taken quickly, Antwerp would remain useless until spring.
Then one man looked at the battlefield differently.
A Fisherman’s Insight
Major Jack Morrison wasn’t thinking like a general.
Before the war, he had been a deep-sea fisherman from Newfoundland.
Instead of staring at the bunker, Morrison studied tide charts.
The Scheldt estuary had one of the largest tidal swings in Europe—over 45 feet between high and low tide. The fortress sat directly on a seawall built at mean sea level. Its drainage pumps were designed for rain, not the ocean.
Morrison realized something no artillery officer had considered:
You didn’t need to destroy the fortress.
You just had to make it unlivable.
Weaponizing the Sea
Morrison proposed breaching a damaged section of seawall at low tide.
When the tide returned, the North Sea itself would flood the fortress.
No shells.
No frontal assault.
No more Canadian deaths.
British and American officers initially rejected the idea as madness.
Then Guy Simonds, commander of II Canadian Corps, stepped in.
“The British want to keep bombing. The Americans want to keep charging. I want my soldiers alive.”
He gave Morrison 24 hours.
The Night the Ocean Attacked
In total darkness, Morrison and six engineers swam to the seawall. At exactly 3:47 a.m. on October 28, 1944, they detonated 400 pounds of explosives.
The wall exploded.
Then the sea moved.
Over 50,000 gallons of water per minute surged inland. By high tide, the fortress basement was completely flooded. Ammunition was ruined. Pumps failed. Radios died.
Inside, German soldiers climbed upward as water rose around them.
By mid-morning, white flags appeared.
At 10:30 a.m., the fortress surrendered.
Not a single Canadian died.
The German Major’s Final Words
Major Richter waded out last, water dripping from his uniform. Looking back at his flooded fortress, he spoke quietly in English:
“You did not fight us with guns. You fought us with the sea. I have never seen anything like this.”
He surrendered his pistol and became a prisoner of war.
Within 72 hours, Allied ships were sailing into Antwerp. 4,000 tons of supplies per day began flowing to the front.
The war in Northwest Europe finally moved forward.
Why This Moment Still Matters
Military historians later estimated a conventional assault would have cost 200–300 Canadian casualties.
Instead, the cost was:
400 pounds of explosives
One breached seawall
Morrison’s operation spread quickly. Allied engineers across Europe studied it. Flooding enemy positions became standard practice—used later by British commandos, Soviet engineers, and modern armies.
The lesson was simple and timeless:
Use the environment
Question assumptions
Win without unnecessary killing
The Quiet Aftermath
Morrison returned to Newfoundland after the war. He rarely spoke about what he’d done. The German major he defeated later wrote a memoir acknowledging the tactic as brilliant and humane.
Decades later, the two men met again—not as enemies, but as old sailors watching the tide.
Concrete had failed.
The sea had not.
Sometimes the most powerful weapon isn’t firepower.
Sometimes it’s understanding how the world actually works.
