This was a very sad moment for Lightoller. The Oceanic had always been his favorite ship. It was his love, an old friend, and to see her broken up on the Shaalads reef was almost too much to bear. He had some of his men row him back to the ship and he walked about her empty decks one last time, taking the clock from the navigation room wall as a souvenir.

      In 1915, Lightoller was working on a sea plane carrier called Campania and in June of that year was observing on the only plane that made it into the air. They became the first plane ever sent up at sea to locate an enemy fleet. Lightoller's plane, 184, did locate the enemy's fleet but his wireless messages never reached the Campania. The whole exercise had been worthless and Lightoller decided to get out of sea planes any way he could.

      By Christmas that year, Lightoller was commander of the torpedo boat HMTB 117, an old torpedo boat. It was the best Christmas present he could have ever asked for. Lightoller was a different sort of commander. He was not only admired by his thiry man crew, they also had affection for him. He made it his duty to get to know each and every one of those men individually, their stengths and weaknesses, and made them all feel like a vital part of his team. That way, when the time for action came, every man would know what to do and when to do it with no prompting. On July 31 1916, the 117 spotted a Zepplin (which turned out to be the L31, the biggest and most dangerous Zepplin the German army had) flying over London. They fired three shots at it and thought they hit it. It turned out that they did not and the Zepplin dropped bombs on 117. Fortunately, they all missed and even though they had failed to hit the Zepplin, they spared London from further bombings that night and Lightoller was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his efforts that night.

      Lightoller's next command was of the destroyer Falcon, which had lived about fifteen years longer than it should have. On the night of April 1, 1917, Falcon was heading back to England from seeing a convoy to Norway. Lightoller was once again in his cabin when it happened- Falcon collided with another ship, the John Fitzgerald. The old ship was badly damaged and Lightoller got every member of the crew off to other ships, save himself, his first Lieutenant, and the gunner who was serving as officer of the watch at the time of the collision. The ship broke in half, but the rear portion stayed afloat and Lightoller hoped that it would remain that way until morning when she could be towed in. Unfortunately, this was not the case and the Falcon did sink, at just about 2:20 am, six years and eleven days after the Titanic sank. Lightoller and his two companions were picked up by a trawler that had been sent to look for them not long afterwards.

      In 1918 Lightoller was promoted again, this time to Lieutenant Commander, for his actions on the destroyer Garry when she rammed and sank a German submarine, the UB 110. The Garry was badly damaged but Lightoller was sure he could take her the 100 miles back to Humber. It was agonizingly slow, only 8 knots, but they did make it. By that time, Garry's stern was sticking so far out of the water the rudder was virtually useless. A few weeks later she was repaired and back in service and Lightoller was awarded a bar to his Distinguished Service Cross as well as a desk job.

      World War I ended that year and Lightoller came out of it as a full Commander. He returned to White Star for a brief time but it wasn't the same. Although few would have made a better captain, Lightoller never got any higher than Chief Officer, for the new management of the White Star Line wanted to forget all about the Titanic disaster and everyone who had been connected it. Strangely enough, the cream of the White Star crop who had been chosen for Titanic (Charles Lightoller, Herbert Pitman, Joseph Boxhall, and Harold Lowe) never received their own commands. They hoped by keeping Lightoller down he would resign on his own, since they could not call attention to themselves by firing him outright. They got their wish. With over twenty years of experience, Lightoller resigned without fanfare. No one even thanked him for his service.

      During the depression, the Lightollers raised chickens, did property speculation, and opened a boarding house, all with moderate success. It seems that Lightoller lived his life as a sort of Renaissance man!

      World War II was now close at hand. The Royal Navy was interested in using the Lightoller's family yacht, Sundowner, (which was bought in 1929 and christened by Sylvia) for undercover war maneuvers. In July of 1939, sixty five year old Lightoller and his wife surveyed the German coastline, posing as a couple on vacation. All their sketches and photographs were never used for much, but the Admiralty was very thankful for the Lightoller's efforts. But it was in June of 1940 that Lightoller would have his last and greatest sea adventure, as part of Operation Dynamo. German tanks had trapped 400,000 Allied troops (most of the British Expeditionary Force) near the French port of Dunkirk on the French/Belgian border. On May 31, Lightoller was asked to bring the Sundowner to Ramsgate where the British Navy would take her to Dunkirk. Lightoller told them that he would be the only one to sail the Sundowner to Dunkirk.