Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Broadcast on all channels, unencrypted and public. I want everybody to hear this.”

  One by one the indicator lights changed to show he was live and his voice would be clear for all to hear. Before he could speak, a new voice overrode his own.

  “This is Bradley Hughes-Haywood, commander of the New York Militia. This island, the city, and the state have voted against the continuing presence of Reich units. New York is a demilitarised zone. Please turn around and vacate our waters immediately.”

  Kommodore Ulli’s eyes opened wide with both surprise and amusement.

  “Enough of this petty nonsense. This is Kommodore Ulli of the Kriegsmarine heavy cruiser Admiral Borckenhagen. Under the authority of Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge, I have been tasked with bringing order to this area. Manhattan is in a state of civil unrest. We can see the violence from the bay, and it is shameful. Prepare for our arrival. We will re-enter the city within the hour, eliminate any terrorist cells, and reassert peaceful control. That is all.”

  “Kommodore, as you sure of this course of action?” Korvettenkapitän Hoth asked.

  Kommodore Ulli looked away from the intercom just as a line of flashes from the old fort at Battery Park lit up the lower part of the city. He watched in stunned silence as half a dozen shells clattered around his cruiser. At least three bounced off the armour, unsettling several of the bridge officers. A minor show of defiance, but it triggered something deep inside him. His pride.

  “So…they wish to test our resolve. Korvettenkapitän, I want a single salvo targeted on that fort. Cover the advance of our assault unit. We’re going to take back Manhattan.”

  “Jawohl.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Upper New York Bay, New York

  11th February 2018

  A well-designed motorboat should be able to cut gracefully through relatively rough water with the minimum of effort. Even the fat, overweight ferries that travelled between Manhattan, New Jersey, and Staten Island were able to make the journey with a modicum of difficulty. But not the slow moving armoured assault vehicles of the Kriegsmarine. These short, fat armoured personnel carriers could easily be mistaken for tanks, if not for their lack of turrets. The fronts were much bigger than the rear, with space for the driver high above the waterline. Their diesel engines thundered while black smoke belched from dual exhausts that stuck up vertically. For all the noise, spray, and smoke, they made relatively slow progress travelling from the assault ship to the shore.

  Obermaat Perkins of the 3rd Illinois Kompanie tensed as water sprayed over the front of the armoured assault vehicle. The Testudo was fully armoured, yet water still managed to find its way through tiny gaps in the plating. They were designed to traverse rivers or conduct beach assaults, not spend hours at sea. He looked back to his unit and checked they were ready.

  “You know the layout of the city. We do not advance further north than the Woolworth Building.”

  One by one the squad answered him. They were well equipped with modern flexible plates of assault armour over their dark navy Kriegsmarine uniforms. Articulated sections covered their shoulders, while a small breastplate protected the upper parts of the torso. The clothing might just as easily have been black, though the double line of ten brass buttons gave them an elegance lacking in the other military units. At first glance, they could have been men of the infamous SS Stoßtruppen, especially carrying a higher density of heavy weapons than most military units, a requirement due to their assault roles.

  Obermaat Perkins looked out through the small vision slits built into the vehicle’s side and watched Governor’s Island disappear from view. He had the perfect view of Cobble Hill far off on the distant shore, and when he looked north, he spotted a portion of the famous Brooklyn Bridge.

  “Rules of engagement are simple. If you see somebody carrying a weapon, or threatening the unit, you will fire on them.”

  “Two minutes to Battery Park,” said the driver, his voice barely audible over the din of the engine, “Check your weapons.”

  They all looked down and double-checked the configuration and readiness of their weapons. These were not the troublesome, politically motivated soldiers of the SS. Every one of them was a volunteer and a military professional. The Kriegsmarine had a long tradition of honour and good conduct that put them at odds with the Nazi Party hierarchy. Even after all these years, they’d managed to avoid complete political interference, even though senior ranks were now littered with party members. This unwillingness to merge the ideals of the party left the branch as untrustworthy, subsequently portraying them as the conservative military incompetent part of the Reich military.

  “One minute,” said the driver.

  Obermaat Perkins looked down at his highly modified Steyr-Mannlicher Maschinenpistole MP96. The weapon looked small against his armoured body, but it was still amongst the deadliest weapons in the Reich military arsenal. The majority of the men carried standard issue Mauser G88 service rifles.

  “Machine gunners, you will take the flanks. Watch the high ground, and do not hesitate to shoot.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  The cry was loud and boisterous, as he would have expected. There were very few German accents here. European members of the military were still considered more reliable and more loyal. Those units were the ones now massed in the thousands along potential flashpoints with the C.R.U.

  “Thirty seconds!”

  Perkins stared through the vision slits; saw the choppy water, and finally the snow-covered open ground of Battery Park. It was the most open part of Lower Manhattan, and perfect for the arrival of these powerful machines.

  “This is it, men. Today we retake Manhattan. Wait until we’re on the ground, and then we go in.”

  The engines revved louder than before as the first line of vehicles reached the quayside of the lower tip of Manhattan. This was no gently sloping beach, and the water lapped up almost a metre below the lowest point along the shoreline. Normally, boats and small ships would be tied up along this point, but today the place was strangely clear of any traffic. The Testudo vehicles made contact with the shoreline, and then stopped with their paths now completely blocked from access.

  “This is it men, be ready. Check the landing area.”

  Small loopholes slid open, and four men on each side pushed their rifles out through the gaps, checking for signs of danger. At the same time, a small, motorised pintle mount scanned from left to right, controlled by the crew safely protected inside the machine. Lights inside the hull increased in brightness, flooding the darkened interior.

  “We’ve made contact,” said a marine.

  A clunking sound reverberated throughout the vehicle. Though it was impossible to see from here, the Testudo now deployed its corvus attachment directly ahead. The metal apparatus covered the greater part of the top of the machine and reached out to clamp down onto the ground. Once in position, the articulated arms pulled the bulk of the vehicle up along a pair of long skids and to the ground. A remarkable piece of engineering, and a classic reminder of the skill and ingenuity of Reich engineers and designers. The Testudo completed its movement and then dropped away, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Slate armour automatically dropped into place along the flanks, and the engine revved once more as they pulled away from the edge.

  “Dismount!”

  The side doors crashed down with a loud bang, and without saying another word, the Kriegsmarines charged out. They dropped down the ramps and onto the solid ground. Their eyes were by now accustomed to the light from the preparatory lights in the Testudo. Far off to the left was the circular fort, now belching smoke from the multiple shells that had breached its walls in several places.

  “Advance by teams.”

  They moved out into the park, while a second platoon fanned off to the left to secure the fort. In the past, the area had once been among the most affluent parts of the city, until the influx of European immigrants had brought the area down. Obermaat Perk
ins kept on moving as voices spoke to him over the radio. They made it a few metres when the guns to the left opened up. A handful of Kriegsmarines were hit, several killed with the opening shots. Rather than flee, the squad nearest the fort turned their guns on the structure. Rifle and machine gun fire tore at the stonework, only for a volley of rockets to race out and strike the advancing men. This was followed up by sustained and accurate rifle fire that scattered the rest of the unit.

  When Obermaat Perkins looked to the left, he spotted a large white star flying over the fort, the symbol of the defeated Allies in the War. He almost cried out with happiness that he would for the first time finally experience real combat.

  “Move to the left. They need help with the fort.”

  Perkins’ squad joined the platoon, or Zug, as they were known in the Reich military. They darted between the trees of the park, using what cover they could as they covered the ground. The other advancing marines and vehicles pushed on towards State Street, the first road they would encounter along the southern tip of the island.

  “Bring up the anti-tank weapons. Everybody else get down!”

  Perkins was at the front, as always, and he almost stumbled as a trio of bullets whistled past his head. They’d been told to expect little resistance, and yet here they were on solid ground and in combat. Another raced on past him and slammed into a tree.

  “Bring it down!”

  He slid to the ground and onto his belly. Unlike the heavy gear worn by the stormtroopers, the gear utilised by his own people was much more flexible, even if it lacked some protection. Shots struck around his unit, but didn’t stop them readying their weapons. Three lifted single-shot Panzerfaust anti-tank rockets. Though simple in design, these powerful weapons were directly related to models used back in Europe. Rather than the specialist heavy weaponry carried by dedicated anti-tank teams, the rockets would allow regular infantry and marines to deal with armour on their own terms.

  “Ready!” Kurtman, the youngest member of the squad yelled.

  “Fire!” Perkins ordered.

  There was little noise or reaction as the warhead pushed away from the broom handle type mount, and then slammed into the stonework. A fraction after impact, it exploded, tearing a hole the size of a family car into the old stonework.

  “More rockets!”

  Three more Panzerfausts opened fire, and with each shot they brought down more of the structure.

  “Up and at ‘em!”

  The entire squad rose up together, those carrying the now empty Panzerfausts discarding them. Obermaat Perkins waved his machine pistol towards the fort and shouted the order.

  “Charge!”

  With no concern for their own lives, the small unit of heavily armed men raced towards the shattered fort. Smoke surrounded the structure, reducing visibility and slowing their progress. The Kriegsmarines wasted no time in getting inside, to find the place deserted. Not even a body marked the fall of the fort. Obermaat Perkins hesitated, looking from left to right inside the modest sized fort, but he saw nothing.

  “Obermaat! They’re running.”

  Perkins moved to the north wall, where the doors were missing, and part of the supporting wall now lay broken and partially collapsed. Out ahead, five men were running as fast as their legs would carry them. A thick, black fog swirled around them, made from a mixture of dust, engine smoke, and smoke grenades.

  “Bring them down!”

  Rifles cracked, but the men vanished from view as they entered the thick smoke drifting along the lower streets of Downtown Manhattan. Obermaat Perkins’ nostrils flared, and he looked back to check on his men.

  “Casualties?”

  Kurtman shrugged.

  “Just a few impacts, nothing more.”

  Perkins lifted his hand to silence him and listened to the next report coming in over the radio. It didn’t take long to finish, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a trio of heavily armed Messerschmitt BO 87 Albatross raced past, their chin-mounted guns chattering away as they fired at anything they could see. Rockets vanished off into the city, striking targets in the streets. Knowing he had full air cover strengthened his resolve, and he gritted his teeth for what had to follow. One of his men waved his hands. He’d seen men inside firing door guns as they flew into the city. Then he spotted the stationary Kriegsmarine watching in awe as hundreds of heavily armed Reich Kriegsmarines flooded into the city. Several carried tall Reich banners atop poles on their packs.

  “Sorry, Obermaat.”

  Perkins barely acknowledged him as he extended a hand out and pointed into the city.

  “Orders from the Kommodore. There is a firefight ongoing along Wall Street. Loyal patriots are resisting these insurgents, but they need our help. We will advance inside. If you see anybody not carrying Reich markings, shoot them.”

  A few of the men exchanged surprised looks, but as light rifle fire erupted throughout the nearby city blocks, they quickly changed their minds.

  “Resistance is light, and our friends in this city need our help. Move on!”

  With that, the squad clambered over the ruins of the north wall of the fort and crossed the park towards the city proper. Obermaat Perkins felt confident as they crossed the first road and came alongside the first three skyscrapers. But in his mind he was sure something was not right. The thicker the smoke, the more suspicious he became.

  “Command, this is Obermaat Perkins. We’ve reached Broadway and are heading towards Bowling Green.”

  “Understood. Keep moving. 3rd Platoon is following behind you. Our spotters are overhead and in the area.”

  Perkins swallowed and found his lips were dry. A small pipe fitted from his pack and inside his mask provided him with tepid water on demand. He took a sip, instantly quenching his thirst and wetting his palate.

  “Fireteams, fan out.”

  They moved past the tall buildings and into the small park. There had been proposals for all kinds of statues at this point in the city. In the end the city decided to place the burnt out and badly damage wreckage of a venerable Super Tiger on a low pedestal. The damage had been patched, and the tank painted a dull grey to protect it from the elements. As they moved through the small, heavily treed area, Obermaat Perkins spotted the tank. It looked majestic looming out from the smoke.

  “The Tiger of New York.”

  He said the words almost reverently as they moved nearer. Metre by metre they travelled, the dual roads coming to a head at a crossroads. He knew he shouldn’t, but as he passed the tank, he glanced at the massive machine. There was a plaque on the rear, but he found his attention drawn to fresh lettering on the rear of the turret. Tall white letters called out to people to resist, and a white pointed Allied Star was prominent.

  “Obermaat!”

  He looked up and watched a pair of the Albatross race on by, strafing the street. That was the moment he spotted them clearly for the first time. There weren’t many, perhaps seven or eight, and all dressed in layers of scruffy clothing. Most wore hoods or hats, and all were armed. They’d forced a barricade from abandoned cars across the street, and an old style United States flag flew from a pole attached to a vehicle. Obermaat Perkins extended his arm out and pointed his machine pistol towards the barricade.

  “Bring it down!”

  Two of those with their Naval version Rheinmetall MGK machine guns moved to the front, halted, and then opened fire. Though stripped down to reduce size and weight, they were still capable of unleashing incredible firepower. Bullets hammered into the barricade and force the defenders down to the ground.

  “Attack!”

  The Kriegsmarines charged up the street and clambered over the barricade, even while the machine guns continued to fire. Streaks of light marked the impact of bullets, and then they were over. Obermaat Perkins paused to catch his breath while keeping his own weapon raised and ready. He glanced down to see two insurgents dead on the ground, blood mixing with the ice and the light sprinkling of snow.

  �
�Commander, we have taken the…”

  He hesitated as shadows shifted and moved ahead of him. The pristine snow on the pavements merged with the clouds of smoke and dust, yet he was sure he could make out a shape in the distance.

  “What is it? Have you secured the Downtown area?” said the voice in the radio.

  Obermaat Perkins was not interested in anything else right now, and as he waited, a great metal shape pushed out from the end of Wall Street, most of its body still shrouded in mist. Flashes of fire erupted from weapon mounts, and machine guns hammered away at his position.

  “A landship!”

  They were the last words he ever said. Rocket fire slammed into his unit, obliterating them in a single, savage fusillade. Other Kriegsmarines scattered at the sight of the massive machine marching in among them, spitting flame and fire.

  * * *

  Landship Eiserner Gott, 20m Beneath Upper New York Bay

  The mighty six hundred tonne war machine pushed on against the weight and mass of the Upper Bay water. At this point in the area, a single channel of twenty metres cut through to provide access to larger ships. Now the landship took advantage of that and travelled away from Manhattan and towards the newly arrived fleet. Water poured in through the myriad of gaps in the internal cabin of Eiserner Gott as she powered on through the water, one step at a time.

  “Kapitän!” Dougal Leary yelled, “The seals have failed.”

  He wiped oil from his brow, spreading it across his face in a long smear as it mixed with the sweat. Water cascaded in through a hundred places, with even the smallest breaches now allowing greater ingress.

  “The generator is flooding. I need more power for the bilge pumps, or we’re gonna lose everything. Eiserner is built for wading, not this madness. The modifications are not holding, not by a long way.”