He looked to Marcus, desperation on his face, and Marcus knew right away that the man was not messing around. Dougal was as skilled an engineer as he’d ever come across, but like all engineers, his interest lay in the machinery. He had to think of the bigger picture.
“Kapitän. I need to extend the snorkels. Another thirty seconds is all we have left on the diesels. Any more and we lose the generators. I have to shut the air intake ports, or she’ll never run again.”
Marcus wiped the sweat from his face, simultaneously listening to the radio chatter from inside the city. There were a dozen different voices, each sounding more desperate than the next. He knew the battle along the southern tip of the city would be a desperate affair, but also his plan was the only one that could end it.
“If we do that, they’ll see us, and this will all be over.”
He grimaced.
“Save every joule of energy from the diesels, and fill the batteries past the safe limits.”
“But, Sir! Constant exposure to maximum charge will cause long-term…”
Marcus nodded furiously.
“Dougal, I know. Trust me, I do. But if we don’t manage just a little longer, we’ll have more to worry about than water. She’s a tough old lady…”
He placed a hand on the nearest metal plating.
“But even she can’t stand against a cruiser’s broadside. So…cut the engines as late as possible. Then stop the bilge pumps, and move all power to the electric drive units. We’re gonna need it if we want to get out of this.”
Dougal Leary turned back to his controls, muttering to himself. He wasn’t happy, and Marcus knew that without even hearing his complaints. Every litre of water in the landship risked damaging the electrical system, and also contaminating the hydraulics and motors. And, of course, that was without the added concern of water rendering the cabin useless and killing every one of them. There was no deep-sea diving equipment onboard.
I’m not drowning, not today, not any day.
He moved his eyes back to the multiple periscopes and almost choked. They were underwater, the top of Eiserner Gott two metres below the frigid waters of Upper New York Bay. Torsten Urs pointed ahead.
“Targets in the water, range one-eighty metres. We can surface and attack from here. We have the power.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No. That will not work. We need to be at point-blank range. The ships are in the shallows. If these charts are accurate, the cruiser is sitting on just twelve, maybe even fifteen metres of cold water. That is the perfect depth.”
The diesel engines spluttered and then shutdown one at a time. The infernal racket made life almost unbearable inside the machine. With them now off, the sound of water pouring inside seemed that much louder, and significantly more menacing. Raffael Siegmund, the secondary gunner, there to manage the second tier of guns, started to release his harness.
“I’m not staying down here. No chance. I didn’t sign up for drowning down…”
“Enough,” said Marcus, “We’re almost there. Back to your post.”
Eiserner Gott stomped ahead another five steps, each movement straining every centimetre of the aged machine. Dougal Leary heard what the crew was saying and nodded furiously towards Marcus.
“Kapitän. Get me to that depth, and I’ll have the diesel engines running on maximum.”
“Driver, you heard the man. All ahead full!”
The electric motors increased in power, and Marcus found his eyes constantly shifting to the power management display. With the engines now offline, they were running off the banks of batteries. They were already down five percent in a matter of seconds.
“It’s like walking in treacle,” said Karl Lothar, “We’re using four times the power we’d normally expect.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Marcus, “Just keep moving.”
For the next minute they thundered along the bottom of the bay, with the upper parts of the body just below the surface. Marcus could see the shapes of the ships’ hulls in the water through his scopes. For a few moments he wondered how this compared to being one of the much-admired and elite skippers of the U-Boats. He kept his view focussed ahead; doing his best to ignore the fact there was so much water in the cabin that it ran past his knees.
“How much further?”
Even as he asked the question, a series of sparks ripped along a display. The screen flickered once more and then shutdown, completely cutting off the advanced communications suite, leaving them with just unencrypted emergency short-wave radio.
“We’ve made it!” Karl Lothar said in a tone that betrayed his astonishment, “We’re right next to the cruiser. What now?”
Marcus grinned.
“We hole her hull with the demolition charges, and then introduce ourselves.”
Torsten Urs seemed quite pleased with this and began directing the crew.
“Get right against the hull. That’s it…perfect. Siegmund, activate the charges.”
They were right alongside the cruiser, and with slow and careful manoeuvring were able to push two oil barrel-sized charges against the hull. A third they dropped at their feet, just as Marcus ordered.
“Now. Give me everything you have, and get me aboard that ship!”
Lothar and Torsten Urs both looked stunned.
“Climb aboard?”
Marcus nodded.
“Get halfway up, then use the diesel engines to pump out the water and drag us topside. Don’t forget, we have the auxiliary ballast tanks still filled with air. That will give us enough of a boost to make a start.”
All of them looked at him in disbelief, apart from Dougal Leary who appeared perfectly happy.
“I can do this,” he said, pulling on controls, “You do the climbing, and I’ll get you up high enough. Ready?”
Marcus looked to Karl Lothar first.
“Move to a crouch and get ready to jump. Torsten, be ready with those charges.”
The driver did as he was told, and Eiserner Gott crouched down onto the seabed. The onboard motors powered up, and the pumps worked to their full capacity. Finally, Marcus gave Dougal Leary the nod.
“Now!” Dougal said.
Eiserner Gott pushed upright so that the top turret protruded from the water. The emergency ballast tanks blew, and then with a push the machine rose several metres from the water.
“Detonate!”
All three charges activated together, creating powerful blasts under the water. The two along the hull of the cruiser tore great holes in the metal plating. The third exploded beneath Eiserner Gott, giving the machine a final boost out of the water. It wasn’t enough to clear the ship, but more than enough to slam the upper body and arms onto the forward hull. It struck between the bridge and the first primary gun turret. The diesel engines roared, belching flames and smoke, while water poured from the now fully active bilge pumps. Flames lashed the superstructure of the ship as ammunition magazines detonated, sending vibrations through her hull.
“What now?” Torsten Urs asked.
Marcus pointed towards the bridge. Men were rushing out and aiming rifles at him. Guns opened fire, showering Eiserner Gott with bullets.
“Target the bridge,” said Marcus, his fist clenching as he watched, “Now we fight.”
“Open fire!” Torsten Urs yelled.
The main guns fired, shattering the bridge and killing dozens of officers and crew. Secondary turrets spun around to try and hold off the machine, but Eiserner Gott easily evaded them and raked the hull with machine gun fire. Automatic cannon fire from the other ships in the flotilla whisked past, but of those that came close, just as many damaged the cruiser as they did the landship. One particularly heavy shot came from an air-defence gun on the assault ship.
“Target the carrier. Spread fire along her hull.”
“Sir!”
Rounds slammed into Eiserner Gott, but nothing would stop her now. Her arm and shoulder cannon blazed away, sending large calibre projecti
les the short distance to the other ships. An armoured cruiser had a chance, but not the thin-skinned assault ship. In reality, it was more a hybrid carrier and civilian transport ship, and each shell ripped inside and set up numerous fires. In less than a minute, great gouts of spray burst from the stern of the ship. For a moment it looked like she’d taken a major hit, but then the vessel began to turn away.
“Perfect,” said Marcus, “We’ve got her on the run. Now, turn the guns on the other ships.”
Eiserner Gott was in her element. For the next ten minutes, she terrorised the flotilla as she moved along the ship, crushing turrets with her great bulk, and punching holes in her superstructure at a dozen different points. The escort ships moved closer to support their comrade, which made it easier for them to be hit. The landship paused from damaging the cruiser to return fire, blasting gun mounts and crew with abandon. Their sporadic return fire from light guns and missile systems lacked any real threat, due to the chance of hitting the powerful cruiser. Nonetheless, Eiserner Gott lacked the firepower to sink the ships, at least not in the time she had, but she could still cause terrible damage. Fires burned in a dozen places throughout the tiny fleet, yet still the cruiser remained in the bay.
Marcus refused to halt his attack until the large ship and her escorts turned away from Manhattan, powered up their engines, and began to leave. A much smaller number of Testudo Assault vehicles hurried back to their assault ship, and Marcus let them board without turning fire on them.
“Are you sure?” asked Torsten Urs.
Marcus sighed.
“Yes. They might fight for the Reich, but so did we until recently. They are not all bad.”
He almost laughed at the insanity of it all.
“We aim to kick them out, eject them from the Americas, do we not? Kill too many and you guarantee that will have to be dealt with. No, we’ve punished them enough for one day. And who knows what state the city is in.”
“Look,” said Karl Lothar, “They’re taking us out of the bay.”
“Indeed,” agreed Marcus, “And that is our signal. Come on, it’s time to say goodbye.”
Eiserner Gott leapt ungracefully from the ship as they passed Governor’s Island. The great machine landed on her side and sank to her chest before hitting the bottom. This time they scrambled from the water as fast as possible and watched the ships leave, while keeping a wary eye on them. Small black dots travelled back with them, circling overhead but not returning fire.
“Should we fire on them?” Torsten Urs asked.
Marcus beckoned towards the tall columns of smoke coming from Manhattan. There, along the shoreline were two Militant landships. They might be smaller and less impressive than his, but they looked like great sentinels watching over their city.
“No. Our friends held their own in the city. And it would appear we have something of a truce…for now.”
He pointed to the ships steaming away.
“And we’ve bloodied their noses. That cruiser will need months of work before she’ll be back. It’s time to go. I want to see how our friends performed on their first combat mission. Today was the Militants baptism of fire.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Baltimore, Maryland
13th February 2018
“I am sorry about the other day, I really am. I don’t know what I was thinking,” said Doug.
Ray nodded his agreement, but he could see Will sitting across the room. Bubbling like a volcano about to erupt at any moment.
“I know what you were thinking because I have felt it myself. You were angry, and you wanted to take some revenge on those who attacked your home and killed your friends. It isn’t hard to understand, but it is hard to overcome. But if we are to get through this, you have to. There is no room for letting our emotions get the better of us.”
“How do I explain that to him? You saw what he lost.” He gestured towards Will.
“We have all lost in this war, believe me.”
“A child, though? Shot and killed before your own eyes?”
“If it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take, he should never have picked up a rifle. It was his choice, not some kind of collateral damage.”
“I don’t think he cares.”
Ray knew he needed to say and do something, but he didn’t know how to find the words. Gerry saw his dilemma and sprang forward to do it for him. He put a hand on Will’s shoulder, and although he was jumpy, almost dreamlike, he seemed to snap out of it like he’d suddenly woken up.
“What?”
“You know how many friends and fellow soldiers I have seen die on the cold floor of a prison, or worked to death in labour camps?”
“No, how, I didn’t even…” It was clearly something he had little idea about.
“I saw brave men beaten and worn down, dying for nothing. Your boy, he died with a rifle in his hand and fighting for his home. For his family and for his friends. Mourn his death, of course, and I think I speak for everyone here when I say we all mourn him. But this is a harsh and cruel world, and he died as one of the very best of us. Whatever heaven there is, he is there now, with a place rightfully earned. We cannot ask any more of anyone than what Leonard gave. Not so much for his death, but what he did in life…he was a hero.”
That brought Will to tears, and his ice-cold resolve seemed to thaw.
“I bet he is looking down and watching, looking out for you now. Don’t die because of him, live for him,” added Gerry.
Wills’ hand was shaking. He took Gerry’s as he stood up and hugged him. Gerry didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Thank you, thank you,” Will kept saying.
He sat back down, and though he couldn’t be described as happy, there was new colour and life in his face. Gerry paced over to Ray and Doug who both looked genuinely impressed. They had heard his words.
“Wow, that was impressive,” said Doug.
“I wouldn’t say that. Sometimes a man needs to hear things in a way that makes it all seem a little better.”
“Not such a shit storm as it really is?”
“Precisely, Ray.”
“Were things that bad in England?” Doug asked.
He nodded, and for a moment he displayed that same stony coldness they had seen in Will.
“My home is a gravesite now. Anyone left there is being worked to death at the pleasure of the Reich. I fear I will never walk in the green fields and forests again. That there is nothing left for me there. Even if I was able, could I stomach seeing it again? I don’t know.”
“If it is so bad, why don’t the people rally together and fight back?”
Gerry laughed to stop him from weeping.
“If you saw what my country now looks like, you would understand. The back of the nation is broken. Reprisals cost millions of lives after the last uprising. The people have been broken down into dust.”
“But not you?”
“I came close. Another year like that and I would be dust, too.”
The room fell silent, each wondering how much worse it could get. Ray had no idea how bad it had gotten, and he remembered it being bad enough.
“So, what now?”
“We need to carry on hitting the SS units in the area, but also keep finding others to join us, Doug. We must send out people to recruit,” replied Ray.
“And fight at the same time, spreading things a little thin, aren’t we?”
He nodded in agreement.
“We have two jobs to do, Gerry, and time waits for no man. We have to get it done with what we have. It is imperative our best fighters keep fighting, but we need volunteers to head out everywhere but south, to try and find what support they can.”
“I can arrange that.”
“Choose good people. Nobody will be swayed by a babbling idiot,” Ray replied rather bluntly.
“And use his name, band it around. We need every advantage we can get. Your name, Ray, I have heard the way people speak an
d the way rumours spread. We saw it when we arrived here. Your name is a weapon, a rallying cry, and we must use it.”
He reluctantly agreed.
"Five teams of two militiamen, sent out in all directions to find support. Use my name, tell them whatever you have to do, but get us some help."
"You got it."
"And Doug?" Ray asked as he prepared to leave.
"Yeah?"
"People you can trust not to do anything stupid. People who can talk."
"Sure. What are you gonna do?"
"I'm taking a team south to engage the enemy. We need support, but we also have to keep hitting them. Keep them away from the city; make them think they face a lot more here than there is. Because trust me, if they knew how few of us were here, they'd roll right over us."
"You think they have that strength."
"The Reich always has more. Always more lambs to send to the slaughter. They don't care," replied Gerry.
Doug left without another word.
"These little missions of yours, you know it won’t be long before the SS forces wise up to what you’re doing, don't you?"
"Sure, and I intend to be long gone by the time that happens."
"North or south?"
"South, I hope."
Crackles and static came through the radio. It had to be Zoey making contact.
"Iron Viper, this is Silver Swan, come in, over."
"Silver Swan? Damn, you really thought this through," said Gerry, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ray didn't mind. He knew his friend appreciated the effort. He grabbed the handset and took a deep breath, glad to hear that she was even alive.
"This is Iron Viper, what is your situation? Over."
"Ray, I got to tell you, it's bad," she said, forgetting their new protocol altogether.
He ignored it, knowing the sort of horrors she and the others must have faced, because he had lived through them once before. They were friends, and this was personal. It was hard to not talk like friends, but he tried to move the conversation on.
"What have you found out?”
Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War Page 12