Their leader looked to be on his last legs. Ray knelt beside him and took his hand.
“Did we do it?” Weathers asked, coughing up blood.
He could barely get his words out.
“Sure did, we nailed those bastards.”
Weathers nodded slowly.
“I won’t see the day our country is free…that…that is my real regret.”
“You’re not going anywhere. You aren’t done here,” Ray insisted.
But he was already shaking his head and smiling.
“Thank you, all of you. It’s been…bee…”
His head dropped, and Ray moved back to let their medics do their work. Their faces were grim when they found no pulse. They looked further and noticed a pool of blood beneath him. When they turned his body over, the horrific exit wound was clear.
“Goddamn it!” yelled the medic. He threw the bandages off and began to weep.
Nobody tried to revive him. It was clear he was dead.
“What, no, he can’t be gone,” Lisa sobbed.
“What does this mean?” Woody asked.
They all looked numbed by the entire experience, more so by the loss of Weathers than the battle they had just fought.
“It don’t mean anything,” replied Ray.
“What do you mean nothing? Weathers is dead!”
“And so are a great many others. You were his number two. This is your gig now.”
Woody gulped, trying to take it all in. He wasn’t ready for that yet.
“What do we do?” Lisa asked.
Woody looked to Ray for answers, and so did everyone else. He didn’t want to be the one to give the order, but he knew what to do.
“Put the word out, report in to base. We’re falling back.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Woody. We’re falling back across the Hudson. Operation Hammer is over, you hear me? Over!”
CHAPTER THREE
3km North East of Baltimore, Maryland
7th February 2018, 10.20am
The formation of Luftwaffe aircraft swept low over the Maryland countryside. They moved fast, with one Albatross trailing black smoke from one of its two engines. Many of the others showed signs of damage from the fighting, yet by some miracle all had made it back from the fight. They were clear of the new settlements still under construction and now directly above the Aberdeen Proving Ground. The area would normally have been lush green, but now most of it was covered with a thin sprinkling of snow and ice that left a white sheen that carried on into the mainland.
Hauptsturmführer Jack Krosigk rubbed his shoulder and settled back in his seat. The Messerschmitt BO 87 Albatross was an advanced machine, also designed for military use, and lacking the niceties of civilian craft. SS-Scharführer Jackson was back in the same place as before, directly opposite, and adjusting a bandage on his arm.
“You took a few hits back there.”
The young man smiled, his pale teeth gleaming in the dull interior of the Messerschmitt.
“Yes, Hauptsturmführer.”
He tapped his hand on the metal plates still attached to his chest. It was far from elegant, more like an iron apron, with attached thigh plates, spaulders, and bracers.
“The rebels are well equipped, but they need better if they want to get through this.”
Jack Krosigk saw the bullet dents on the plate, and they served as an important reminder as to the difficult mission they’d just undertaken. He was going to say more when the radio unit in his helmet activated. He listened patiently before speaking.
“That’s correct. The insurgent operation was interrupted before it could penetrate further north…Yes, our spotters count more than twenty dead, including their leader, Samuel Weathers.”
Just saying the name put a smile on his face. He exchanged a few more words, and then looked back to the SS-Scharführer. He’d been looking for a man to lead a personal guard unit, and based on what he’d seen, Jackson appeared to be just the man.
“Today you did well.”
He then looked to the other soldiers, patiently sitting inside. There were a number of casualties, but he was pleased to see they’d not left a single man behind. They were more than just another military unit in the Reich. The Waffen SS was the military arm of the party. Jack Krosigk was a man with a deep-seated love of the Reich, and more important, he had a desire to serve. He’d witnessed at first-hand the power of the Reich, and Jack wanted to be a part of it in every way he could. The interior warning lights blinked red, and he snorted.
“Check your harnesses. We’ll be through this shortly.”
He tapped his helmet.
“Pilot, what’s going on?”
The speakers crackled to life.
“Sporadic ground fire. It’s light and ineffective.”
“I see.”
Jack considered that for a moment, looking through the window and over the city. Baltimore was supposed to be under Reich control, like all of the East Coast. If this were true, it could have a single meaning. The insurgency had spread.
“Are you recording this?”
There was a short pause before the pilot answered, and Jack could easily pick up the man’s nerves.
“Yes, Hauptsturmführer. Reconnaissance cameras are recording everything in the area.”
The craft made two subtle course corrections, and then they continued on their way. Just before the city faded from view, the Albatross loosed off a burst of flares that spread out in a wide fan behind them. One by one the others did the same. SS-Scharführer Jackson looked right back at him, a questioning look on his face.
“Hauptsturmführer? What’s happening down there?”
“Gunfire from Baltimore. It would appear the terrorists have supporters in the city. Perhaps even in the refugee camps.”
Scharführer Jackson looked surprised, perhaps even a little angry as he listened.
“The United States could have ended the fighting before it began. I have heard some of them still say using the bomb was inhumane.”
“Nonsense,” said Jack Krosigk.
He spoke faster than he’d intended, and his frustration was hard, if not impossible to hide. This particular topic had come up back when he’d been in school, and tales of the War had been something for grandparents to debate. He, on the other hand, had found the entire argument utterly lacking in merit.
“After the Naval campaign and the fighting in the Northern Wastes, what other choice could there ever have been? Atomic strikes on their cities, or sacrifice millions on both sides.”
He nodded to himself, as though necessary to convince himself of a course of action.
“A battle on the mainland would have been a slaughter. Now look at us? America is a stable part of the Reich.”
He gazed back at the small window.
“It was, anyway. There are always agitators looking to cause trouble.”
As he shook his head, he spotted something waiting in the complex water system of Norfolk. As home to the Reich Atlantic Naval Station, the place was massive and teeming with ships. But all of them paled to insignificance next to the might iron behemoth. In an instant, all of his anger and fears faded.
“Look at that. Have you ever seen such beauty?”
Scharführer Jackson leaned towards the tiny windows, and both men looked out. Some of the others leant over to see what all the fuss was, and one of them gasped.
“The Adolf Hitler!”
Those on the other side of the Messerschmitt BO 87 Albatross looked to their leader for the word. They would not change seating positions or remove their harnesses without his express permission. He hesitated, but even he had to admit it would be a shame not to see such greatness, especially as they were coming in close to the Naval yard.
“Very well. You may look.”
Almost as one, the small group of men detached their harnesses and moved to the windows. Jack followed their gaze. H44 Adolf Hitler was the last of the H-Class battleships to be buil
t, and though antiquated compared to the ships of the modern Kriegsmarine, she was still an iron monster that deserved respect.
“That, Gentlemen, is the H44 Adolf Hitler. She’s one hundred and thirty thousand tonnes of power. Eight 50.8cm main guns, and enough secondary weapons to take on an entire navy.”
The aircraft banked to the right, giving them all a better view of the vessel. She was painted in the standard battleship grey, with a bright red and white banner displayed across her forward deck. The black arms of the central swastika stuck out vividly, filling Jack with pride. He pointed at the ship.
“Only the Reich can produce such wonders. Even today this ship is king of the ocean. Just think, seventy years ago this was what we used to dominate the Old World.”
The interior lights blinked, and with little more than a nod, he sent the men back to their seats. One by one their harness clicked back on, and the craft began its descent. Jack raised his gaze from the battleship and to the distant horizon. Off to the east was open water, with a few civilian ships moving back and forth. That was the way to Europe, and to the thriving utopia of the mainland.
I will get there, one day. And when I do, they will appreciate everything I have done.
“Okay, Gentlemen. We will be on the ground shortly. Get your gear stowed and report for debriefing. We’ve just cut the head off the snake. And you all know what comes next.”
He ran his eyes along the rows of eager young men.
“Mopping up.”
The Albatross shuddered as they hit some turbulence, and then a large landing ground came into view. One side was open and deserted. But on the other were large numbers of temporary accommodation structures, and row upon row of aircraft.
They think they have a chance. We’ve not even started to fight back!
* * *
Reich Atlantic Naval Station, Norfolk, Virginia
Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge waited in silence in his new office, and turned about in his chair to stare through tall windows. It was among the highest structures in the area, and provided a grand view of Willoughby Bay. Across the water were Hampton and the route north up to Philadelphia and New York. Occasionally, he would hear the sound of aircraft as Luftwaffe jets took off or landed at the massive airfield. It was larger than his old office back home in Berlin, with windows on three sides. Though Spartan on the outside, the interior was as lavish as his rank demanded. The walls were well decorated in wood, American and German artwork covering many of the surfaces. Pieces of armour and antique weapons filled in the gaps. The largest object was the colossal desk, a gift from the Deputy Führer himself.
Curt von Kluge’s telephone rang, and he lifted the device slowly.
“Yes?”
“Kriminaldirektor Mattias and Reichskommissar Wilson have arrived and are heading up. They are here to speak with you.”
“Good. Send them in when they arrive.”
He rose from his desk and walked slowly across the room to the opposite side. Before him were dozens of tiltrotor aircraft. Most were static, and a handful had clearly just returned from a mission. A massive Arado Blitz II waited at the end of the strip while a pair of fire units tackled fires at one of the jet engines. From this part of his room the runways were visible, as well as newly erected buildings for the expected reinforcements coming in from Europe and beyond. The building was an ugly, brutish structure of concrete, alongside the busy Chambers Field landing ground. More Reich facilities existed here that he could use, but this one in particular seemed more fitting to his position. The door knocked and then swung open, revealing the pair of men. Both moved inside.
“Gentlemen,” said Curt von Kluge, “Please be seated.”
The men approached and settled into the dark, leather chairs, each with tall backs and aged to look like antiques. Von Kluge looked at them both, soaking in the details of the pair. Reichskommissar Wilson was a politician; that much was obvious. He was tall, with a soft face that betrayed his lack of military experience. Yet there was no nervousness to him, even in this place and after what had happened. Kriminaldirektor Mattias was an entirely different animal. He’d read the report on the man when he first arrived, and though this was now the third time they’d spoken, he still felt uneasy in the Gestapo man’s presence.
“You requested our presence, Generalleutnant?” Mattias asked.
Curt von Kluge smiled, but just for a moment.
“Indeed I did. As you both know, I have been sent ahead of my army group to bring the East Coast back into order. The visit by the Deputy Führer was a disaster, and the Chancellery demands action. You represent both internal security and the civilian command of the East Coast. I will need your help if I am to succeed.”
Neither said a word.
“I have full authority from the Oberkommando des Heeres to conduct a military campaign of liberation and pacification in the Americas.”
He turned to the Wilson.
“Reichskommissar Wilson. I have fought many colonial wars, and experience has taught me one critical thing. Do you know what that is?”
The Reichskommissar shrugged.
“Please enlighten me.”
Mattias made a noise that sounded suspiciously as though he was amused. The Generalleutnant didn’t like that one bit, but chose to ignore it, for now.
“Trust. We need the public on our side. The execution at Columbus Circle was a mistake. Turning the public against us will provide them with soldiers, supplies, and sympathy. From today this must end. And you, Reichskommissar, you have a duty to appeal to them. They are Reich citizens, and you must do whatever is required.”
Mattias sighed, and the Generalleutnant shifted his gaze towards him.
“Kriminaldirektor?”
The Gestapo man took in a long, excessively drawn out breath.
“The attack in Manhattan. Did it never occur to you that we orchestrated it from the start?”
There was silence for what seemed like an age. The Reichskommissar in particular looked stunned.
“What?”
“Yes, this was planned from the start, and part of my mission was to help drive it along. It is true, the plan altered somewhat, but the objective was simple.”
“To draw out the enemy before they are prepared for a long-term campaign.”
Kriminaldirektor Mattias looked genuinely surprised to hear that.
“Exactly, Generalleutnant. You see, my unit has been working for more than three years on this problem. We’ve eliminated more terrorist cells than you can imagine, but for every two we stop, three more pop up. The one thing that will stop them is to let them believe they cannot win. Draw traitors from their ranks, and let them stand tall and proud before us.”
Generalleutnant nodded slowly.
“Yes…yes…and then strike them hard, in open battle. Defeat them in a single apocalyptic fight, and end the insurrection in one swift blow.”
The older General seemed particularly pleased with himself. Mattias watched him with growing interest. He knew of the man, and in particular, his family. The von Kluge family had a long and distinguished history with the Reich, and Curt was known to be among the finest senior commanders in the military.
“Good…very good. This fits in with my plans and my orders.”
Mattias licked his lips slowly, drawing his tongue along the bottom of his mouth.
“There is more good news for your campaign, Generalleutnant. Contrary to popular opinion, and even after the efforts of the terrorists, we will announce to the American people that the Deputy Führer lives. He is being returned to Germany for medical care and attention.”
“Fascinating,” said the Generalleutnant, “And how did he survive such an attack?”
Mattias merely smiled in reply. The General looked thoughtful as he rubbed at his chin.
“This cannot leave the room. Gentlemen.”
He leaned in over the desk.
“The Deputy Führer never stepped onto American soil. He is still back home and w
ill make a public statement shortly. These Americans might feel they are the centre of the world, but they are just another province in the greater Reich. And today we have much greater concerns. The Deputy Führer is needed to deal with more pressing issues.”
He licked his lips as though relishing every moment.
“In it, he will praise the police and military units that fought against the traitors, and how his own life was saved by American loyalists.”
“Really? And what loyalists are they?”
Mattias nodded to the windows.
“The ones waiting out there. They will go wherever you tell them.”
Generalleutnant von Kluge took all of this in with growing interest. Finally, he turned his attention to the relatively quiet Reichskommissar.
“And have either of you information on the location of Mayor Dougal Finn?”
Neither man spoke.
“It appears he has vanished into the ether, like so many of the traitors.”
Reichskommissar Wilson almost snarled as he listened, and then rose from his chair.
“General. As leader of the American Union, you have no…”
“Sit down,” said Mattias, much to Wilson’s surprise. He hesitated, but when neither of the two said more, he lowered himself back to his seat. Curt von Kluge shifted uncomfortably in his own seat before continuing.
“Now, I will show you my plans for the East Coast. We will reassert Reich control, and to do this we’ll force the enemy to move all that they have to one location. Then, and only then, will we strike with everything at our disposal.”
Another knock came at the door, but this time it opened before the Generalleutnant could speak. There, waiting at the door was an officer, decked out in full Waffen SS uniform, and with a face as hard as granite. He paused, and then walked in to face the three men. Each rose to their feet and exchanged salutes. Only the Generalleutnant reverted to the military salute of old.
“Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge,” said the SS man as his heels clicked smartly together, “I am here, along with my division. I am ready. So…when do we strike?”
Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War Page 4