Slaughter City

by Len Levinson

  “They’re young,” said Heiden, a stern-looking man of fifty.

  “But they’re fine soldiers,” Neubacher replied. “After all, enthusiasm is often better than experience in war.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Heiden said, although he didn’t agree with General Neubacher. Heiden had seen many enthusiastic soldiers slaughtered in the First World War and the one he presently was in and couldn’t place any great faith in that factor alone.

  Neubacher looked at Stahmer. “The locomotives are mechanically sound?”

  “They could go all the way to Paris if they had to,” Stahmer replied.

  “Good man.”

  The young soldiers loaded into the cars, their uniforms clanking. They laughed and joked with each other, confident that they would win a great battle before the sun came up in the morning. All of them were officer candidates, and they understood von Clausewitz’s main principles of war. In this particular battle, they would have the principles of mass, maneuver, economy of force, and surprise on their side, for they were concentrating two battalions on a very narrow section of the American line and the Americans had no idea that they were coming.

  The officers strolled past the cars to the lead locomotive, from which the operating engineer looked down at them. Neubacher looked at his watch.

  “Well, the time is rapidly approaching,” he said. “I would like to wish all of you good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Heiden and Stahmer.

  They all saluted and shook hands.

  “Once you start moving,” Neubacher told them, “you’d better go at top speed because sooner or later the Americans will hear you coming. You don’t want to give them time to get organized.”

  Heiden nodded. “We understand, sir.”

  Heiden and Stahmer climbed into the engine room of the locomotive, joining the three army engineers who were already there. General Neubacher gave the signal, and Stahmer told the engineers to move out.

  The engineers turned cranks and pulled levers. Steam and sparks shot into the air from the chimney and exhaust valves of the gigantic engine. One of the engineers shoveled fire into the furnace, and Stahmer looked inside at the coals that glowed cherry red.

  The wheels spun on the tracks, and the locomotive moved forward, pulling the cars behind it. Generals Neubacher and Knoedler stepped back and threw the Hitler salute as the locomotive passed by them. The soldiers in the cars approached the generals and saluted them back. It was a thrilling moment, their hearts welded together by their great common purpose. Spontaneously, they opened their mouths and sang one of their battle songs:

  And so we march

  and so we fight, fight, fight

  for our Fuehrer

  and for our Fatherland

  Holding his arm in the air, Neubacher turned to Knoedler and said: “With fine young men like these, how can we fail?”

  “Well,” replied Knoedler, “one can always fail, but it would be awfully difficult with these soldiers.”

  The first train rattled and chattered as it passed the two generals, and then the second locomotive came close behind it, the engineer peering out the side of his cockpit and behind him the soldiers singing and holding their arms out in the Hitler salute.

  The trains gathered speed and rolled out of the railroad yard. The generals watched them go, each wishing he could be part of the battle, too.

  Neubacher lowered his arm and tried to shake some blood into it. “Well,” he said to Knoedler, looking at the trains disappearing into the night and rain, “it’s all in the hands of God now.”

  ~*~

  Mahoney opened his eyes in the darkness. He thought he’d been dreaming about the choo-choo of a locomotive, but now he was wide awake and still could hear it coming from the center of Metz, where the Germans were.

  He sat up and shook his head. What the hell’s going on here? Putting on his helmet, he stepped over sleeping bodies and made his way to the door of the railroad station, opening it up. He looked into the distance down the length of railroad track but couldn’t see anything. Taking off his helmet, he scratched his head and wondered what was happening. If the Germans were trying to break out of the encirclement of Metz, they’d head east toward their country and toward France unless—

  A terrifying thought entered Mahoney’s brain. He slammed his helmet on to his head and ran back into the railroad station.

  “Get up, everybody!” he yelled. “The krauts are coming!”

  The men, who’d been sleeping soundly, jumped to their feet. “Where!” they asked. “What!”

  “Get your weapons!” Mahoney shouted. “Put together the bazookas! Move your fucking asses!”

  Captain Anderson buckled on his cartridge belt. “What’s wrong, sergeant?”

  “The Germans are coming, sir! Listen!”

  A hush fell over the room. In the distance, the sound of the locomotive came through the rain.

  “I can hear it!” said Captain Anderson.

  “It’s coming closer!” added Sergeant Tweed.

  Mahoney turned to Captain Anderson. “I think you’d better call battalion and tell them the Germans are coming, sir!”

  “But you don’t know that,” Anderson said, fearing to spread a false alarm.

  “Well, something sure as hell is coming. Maybe you’d better alert them that a locomotive is headed this way.”

  “Yes, you’re right, of course, Mahoney,” Anderson replied. “That much we can say for sure.”

  “And we also can guess,” Mahoney continued, “that those locomotives must be pulling something, like maybe troops or artillery, so you might mention that to battalion, too, sir.”

  “Right.” Anderson turned to Private, First Class Drago. “Bring me the radio set.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Drago brought Anderson the radio set as Mahoney tried to organize the men. “We’ve got to take up defensive positions fast!” Mahoney said. “All the bazookas should be ready to fire because we’ll want to stop that fucking train!”

  The men hooked together the two halves of the bazookas, and some of them checked the haversack that carried the bazooka shells. Anderson finally got through to battalion headquarters, and the men scurried around the train station, putting on their equipment and getting ready for a fight.

  They could hear the sound of the locomotive much clearer in the distance now. It was coming closer, and they figured it would reach them in a matter of minutes.

  ~*~

  The locomotives roared at top speed through the devastated city. In the cars, the young officers brandished their rifles and sang songs, their faces flushed with excitement. Everyone knew the importance of the mission. Everyone was ready to give his all in this great battle for the city of Metz.

  In the leading locomotive, the engineers manipulated levers and studied dials, while one of them continued to shovel coal into the furnace. Lieutenant Stahmer leaned out the window, feeling the wind in his face and watching buildings and boulevards pass by. Even he, a devout coward, was becoming exhilarated by the speed of the train and the adventure that lay ahead. What a brilliant idea this was, he thought. How can we fail?

  The train chugged around corners and down straight lengths of track. German soldiers on the ground took off their helmets and cheered them on. It was like a big party. Everyone was confident of success.

  The train thundered through a tunnel, climbed a hill, and turned a corner; straight ahead were the American lines.

  “Full speed ahead!” yelled Stahmer, his eyes ablaze.

  The engineers turned the knobs and pulled levers all the way. Random bullets ricocheted off the locomotive and the railway cars as some American soldiers saw the train and took potshots at it.

  Stahmer turned to Colonel Heiden. “We’ve taken them completely by surprise, sir! The battle is won!”

  ~*~

  “Here they come,” Mahoney said grimly, the bazooka resting on his shoulder.

  Private Riggs was behind him, tw
isting the rocket wires to the terminal posts on the back of the bazooka. Charlie Company was lined up on both sides of the gully through which the train would pass. Each ridge line was twenty yards from the tracks, close enough to shoot Germans between the eyes.

  The GIs saw the train coming at them, spewing sparks into the air. They didn’t know yet that another train was behind the first one, carrying just as many troops. Captain Anderson had called battalion, and reinforcements were on the way, but Charlie Company would have to hold the Germans until the reinforcements arrived.

  The train sped toward them, and Mahoney got up on one knee, pointing the bazooka downward. All of the eight bazookas in Charlie Company were aimed at the train, and the signal to fire would come from Mahoney. His first shot would tell them to begin. The train rushed toward him, sending billows of steam into the night.

  Mahoney aimed at the leading locomotive, following it with the crosshairs of his bazooka. The locomotive pulled abreast of him, and he fired at pointblank range. The rocket whizzed out of his bazooka and flew toward the locomotive slowly enough so he could see it. It hit and exploded, sending streaks of red and orange in all directions. Farther down the line, the other bazookas were fired, and the GIs opened up with their rifles and machine guns. There were a series of explosions, but the train kept going. Riggs loaded another rocket into Mahoney’s bazooka as Mahoney aimed at the lead locomotive again. Riggs tapped Mahoney’s helmet, the signal that the rocket was ready, and Mahoney fired again.

  This time he aimed low, and the rocket blew the drive mechanism and a wheel of the train to bits. Near Mahoney, a machine gunner raked the cab of the locomotive with bullets, and the train slowed down. Smoke and steam poured out of the hole caused by Mahoney’s first rocket. But the train kept going, and after ten more yards it tripped the booby trap that Mahoney and Cranepool had set. The trap consisted of a stack of hand grenades activated by a wire, and they exploded with such force that they lifted the front of the locomotive three feet in the air. When the locomotive came down, it landed in the hole that the grenades had just made. The locomotive couldn’t move forward, but the train still had momentum. Cars crashed into each other and jackknifed off the track. German soldiers screamed and tried to jump clear, but some of them couldn’t get out of their cars and were trapped or crushed to death. Then the second locomotive crashed into the first train.

  The men of Charlie Company fired at the Germans pouring out of the wreckage of the trains. The GIs realized that a great many German soldiers were down there, and Charlie Company was vastly outnumbered. Their only hope was that the Germans would be too confused to mount an attack and that by then reinforcements from battalion would arrive.

  ~*~

  Mahoney’s first rocket jolted the locomotive and caused Stahmer to fall, knocking his helmet off. The second rocket and subsequent grenade explosions sent Stahmer flying against an iron wall, splitting his head open. Blood poured from the crack in his hair, and you didn’t have to be a doctor to know that he wouldn’t live very long.

  Colonel Heiden was knocked unconscious for only a few seconds, and now he arose from the steam and smoke inside the cab of the locomotive, drawing his pistol. The plan failed, he thought. We’ve been ambushed. But we’re not finished yet.

  “Out of the cars!” he shouted. “Forward!” He jumped down from the cab as bullets whistled and ricocheted all around him. “Charge!” He ran back to rally his men, but three bullets from a BAR caught him in the shoulder and chest. He went flying against the undercarriage of an overturned railroad car, slid down it, and died in the mud and rain.

  The young officer candidates jumped from windows and doors of their railroad cars. They’d been ambushed, and many had been killed, but the majority still were alive. They quickly grasped their situation and saw where the Americans were.

  “Fix bayonets!” their officers and sergeants shouted. “Charge!”

  The young men fastened their bayonets to the ends of their rifles and ran toward the flashes of light on the ridge line that ran beside the railroad tracks. They still were optimistic and thought that somehow they could turn the initial setback around. Shouting battle cries and firing from the hip, they rushed up the incline and hoped to overwhelm the Americans with the weight of their numbers and the intensity of their attack.

  ~*~

  Mahoney saw the Germans charging toward him. He fired his carbine on automatic, but they kept coming, jumping over their dead comrades, shouting encouragement to each other, holding their rifles high. Like water that had been dammed, they rushed up the incline toward the GIs, who waited grimly for them.

  Mahoney rose from the ground, planted his left foot behind him, and pointed his carbine and bayonet at the Germans. They came closer, howling and screaming, and enveloped the GIs. Rifles slammed against rifles, and bayonets plunged through uniforms into flesh. They tried to stab each other with their bayonets and bash each other’s heads with their rifle butts.

  Mahoney wished he had a rifle because a carbine was a puny weapon in hand-to-hand combat, but he made up for the lack with his considerable bodily strength and experience at close combat. A young German soldier, his eyes glittering with the excitement of battle, ran toward Mahoney and tried to impale him with his bayonet, but Mahoney sidestepped deftly and banged the German in the nose with his rifle butt. The German’s eyes stopped glittering, and he fell to his knees, blood pouring from the mangled mess his nose had become. Mahoney snatched the rifle out of his hands, and now he was ready for serious warfare.

  He kicked the German in the face, leaped over him, and landed in front of another young German with the face of an angel. The German shouted something and streaked his bayonet toward Mahoney’s heart, but Mahoney put his full weight behind a parry, pushing the German’s rifle and bayonet to the side. The German looked surprised, and Mahoney brought his rifle butt around, slamming it into the German’s face. Blood squirted out the German’s ears and nose, and Mahoney lunged forward with his bayonet, jamming it to the hilt into the German’s stomach.

  Mahoney charged the next German, who’d lost his helmet somewhere and had enormous ears.

  Mahoney feinted with his bayonet, and the German raised his rifle to block the lunge that never came. Instead, Mahoney aimed lower and pushed his bayonet into the German’s lower abdomen. The German howled in pain and dropped his rifle, trying to stanch the flow of blood with his hands, and Mahoney bashed him in the face, turning to the side to meet a German rushing toward him, but Mahoney couldn’t get his guard up in time, and the German’s bayonet cut into Mahoney’s pectoral muscle before Mahoney could stop it.

  Mahoney felt as though he’d been touched with a red-hot poker, and that made him mad. He took a step backward, parried another lunge from the German, and tried to stick the German himself, but the German got out of the way.

  Mahoney and the German circled each other, feinting with their bayonets. Mahoney could see that this German was a sergeant like himself. He probably was an old hand at this sort of thing, and Mahoney realized he’d have his hands full this time. The German smiled faintly and appeared confident. His bayonet and the barrel of his rifle were covered with blood, which told Mahoney that the German had been having a good day so far.

  The German hooted like a wild bull and charged forward, streaking his bayonet toward Mahoney’s heart. Mahoney didn’t dodge out of the way or step back. He met the thrust straight on and parried it with the trigger guard of his rifle. The German’s bayonet missed Mahoney’s left bicep by an inch, and the force of the German’s attack brought him so close to Mahoney that their faces almost touched. Mahoney could smell the German’s sour breath and see the stubble on his chin. He pushed the German, and the German pushed him back. They grappled, trying to trip each other and knock each other down. The German spit in Mahoney’s eyes, trying to blind him, and Mahoney tried to kick the German in the balls, but the German managed to avoid the blow.

  They struggled with each other, cursing and snarling. The G
erman gritted his teeth, summoned all his strength, and pushed as hard as he could. Mahoney saw him coming and stepped to the side like a matador. The German stumbled over his own feet, stabbing at thin air, and Mahoney laughed as he thrust his bayonet into the German’s kidney. The German screamed like a wild animal and turned around to face Mahoney. Terror was in the German’s eyes because he realized he’d gambled and lost. Mahoney feinted with his bayonet, and the German feebly tried to block the blow. The German looked confused, and Mahoney shoved his bayonet into the German’s throat.

  A German shouted nearby, and pointed at Mahoney. He ran toward Mahoney with two of his comrades, evidently to avenge the death of the sergeant Mahoney had just killed. The battlefield was crowded, and Mahoney didn’t want to shoot anybody from Charlie Company, but it was kill or be killed. He raised the German rifle to his shoulder and fired at the German on the left. The German tripped and fell, a bullet in his chest, and Mahoney brought the rifle down to eject the shell because German Mauser rifles were bolt-action designs and not automatic like the American rifles and carbines. But he couldn’t eject the shell and fire again in time. The two Germans swarmed over him, trying to stab him with their bayonets. They were young men and appeared angry. They must have loved their sergeant, but Mahoney loved his life more.

  He dodged and parried, feinted and lunged, trying to keep the Germans off him while ejecting the shell and slamming a new one into the chamber. One of the Germans realized what he was doing and squeezed the trigger of his own rifle. But before it could fire, Mahoney shot him in the chest, then wheeled suddenly to the side and thrust his bayonet into the last German, whose expression of anger turned suddenly to fear. He parried Mahoney’s attempt to kill him, but Mahoney pulled his bayonet back, swung his rifle butt around, and hammered the German in the jaw, knocking it loose from its hinges. The German dropped to the ground, and Mahoney stood over him, pushing his bayonet into the German’s heart. The German went limp, and Mahoney stepped over him, feeling bloodthirsty and wild, looking for someone else to kill.