“There is talk coming from St Mary’s City. SS patrols moving around, and they’re establishing bases in the area. Our sources believe the Reich is getting ready for something big.”
“What do you think?”
“They need our help. They are calling themselves the Maryland Minutemen, but they aren’t ready for what they are about to face. Not just that, I want to see first-hand what is going on over there.”
“Then head to St Mary’s City. Prepare them for a fight, and help where you can.”
“Will do.”
“Good luck, over and out.”
He put the handset down and sighed.
“What the hell is the Reich up to?”
“Closing in for the kill, I should imagine.”
“But how, and where? How will they strike?”
Gerry shrugged.
“If I knew that, we’d never have gotten into this pickle, would we?”
“It wasn’t intelligence or skill that has kept us under the thumb of the Reich for decades. Just endless resources, and a brutal will to do whatever is necessary to hang on to what they have.”
“Don’t underestimate them. Never forget that they won the last war. They beat the greatest powers on Earth. That is not the face of a fool.”
Ray didn’t want to think about it anymore. He had sent out all those that he could. Now it was his turn. He jumped up enthusiastically and grabbed his rifle.
“What’s the plan?”
“The remnants of those that attacked the city have been gathering and gaining strength. It’s time to remind them that nowhere is safe.”
“We know that feeling all too well, don’t we?”
“Yeah, and it’s time for them to know what it’s like to forever live in fear. We have known it all our lives, but to them it is something new. We are going to strike the fear of god into them. The day they fear us more than their own leaders is the day we will win this war.”
“You think that is possible?”
“Sure I do.”
He stopped and looked over to Will. The man still looked lost, even though Baker’s words had helped a little.
“Will?”
He didn’t even notice his name being called.
“Will!”
He snapped out of it and looked to Ray.
“Yeah?”
“We’re heading out to take on the bastards who attacked this town, you want to join us?”
“Damn right I do.”
He grabbed his kit as Ray left the shop. To be met by a biting, ice-cold wind, and light snow was falling.
“Well, that’s bitter.” Gerry wrapped a thick scarf around his neck and put on some gloves.
They were not nice conditions to fight in, and Ray was all too aware of how deadly the weather could be. It was overcast and the visibility getting worse; the kind of weather to hunker down inside, and not head out into, but there was work to be done. Doug ran across the road towards them as if he had some urgent news. He had a peculiar expression on his face, as though he was confused more than anything else.
“What is it?” Ray asked.
“Well, there are…”
“Spit it out,” snapped Gerry.
“There are people missing.”
“What do you mean?”
“After the attack on the city, after all the casualties and deaths, we didn’t really notice.”
“I don’t follow.”
“There are a few dozen people…missing.”
“People don’t just vanish,” snarled Ray.
“They do all the time in lands controlled by the Reich,” replied Baker.
“Could they have picked up and left? Maybe to get away from all this?”
Doug was shaking his head.
“Leaving their cars behind, and all their belongings? Even their coats still on the racks in their homes?”
Ray sighed. It didn’t sound good, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“Did you find enough volunteers to head out?”
“Yeah, but people are skittish, and can you blame them?”
“No, but this is a war, and you have to look after your own. Post sentries as I told you, and be ready for anything.”
“You expect an attack?”
“I don’t know what to expect, and that is why you have to be prepared and ready.”
His team were climbing into the three vehicles awaiting them.
“You think we might be attacked, and yet you are leaving?”
“No, Doug, we are leaving because there is risk of an attack. Head on, SS troops can blunder their way through almost anything. I ain’t fighting them on their terms. They are going to fight on ours.”
Lisa handed him a thick duffel coat in an act of kindness, a thought he had not expected from her. Not since she blamed him for the death of Weathers, but that seemed to be an ever more distant memory. He pulled on the coat, knowing the heater in their truck did little more than make an annoying rattle.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He looked up to the sky one last time to see how bad the weather was. He didn’t want to go out in it, but he knew they had to.
“Load up. Let’s get moving.”
There was a grim feeling among both those who were going and those who were staying. No one but Will seemed to have any enthusiasm for it. He was hungry for blood, and nobody blamed him for it. Ray climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.
“You sure it is a good idea bringing him along?” Lisa asked in reference to Will.
“Is it the wisest move? I don’t know, probably not, but it is fair. If he stays behind, we are likely to get back to find he’s eaten his gun.”
“Surely not?”
“Yes, believe it, it wouldn’t be the first time I have seen it,” replied Gerry.
“Fuck me. Is this what this war is going to do to us all? Grind us down into a hollow shell, with seemingly nothing left but to kill, whether the enemy or ourselves?”
“Don’t lose sight of what we are trying to achieve. This war won’t last forever, and never forget the alternative.”
She said no more, but Ray was aware of the doubt in many of their minds. They were asking themselves if this was all worth it. They had a hard life under the Reich, but at least they lived, or most of them did.
“Forget what life you had. Now all you have is this one, or one of servitude until you are worked into the ground, which would you choose?” Gerry asked.
Ray started the engine and rolled forward. He had heard enough, and so had they all. The snow was light, but becoming heavier.
“What I wouldn’t give for a fire and a nice cup of tea,” said Gerry.
Lisa laughed, and the rest of them soon joined in. At first, they laughed because he was such a stereotype, but afterwards knowing how true it was, and how much they agreed with him. Ray nodded in agreement and continued to smile as the laughter went down. Moments of friendship like this took the edge off the bitterness of their situation, and reminded him how glad he was Gerry had made the trip across the Atlantic to fight with them.
* * *
Zoey navigated her way down a snow-capped road, rubbing her hands on the steering wheel. Two of the back windows of their minivan were broken, and so little heat was retained. Johnny sat beside her, and Flinn in the back. A beaten-up sedan with some volunteers was following them to St Mary’s City. Two German MG3 light machine guns and two Panzerfausts, as well as several boxes of ammunition, were propped beside Flinn.
“You know I thought we had it cold back home, but this takes the piss,” said Johnny.
“It’s coming in thick now, and it’ll get worse,” Zoey said. The snowfall seemed to increase in speed, reducing the visibility to forty feet.
“Do you even know where you are going?”
“Sure, I could almost find this place with my eyes closed. St Mary’s City is an old Colonial town, back in the days when this country was great. My grandmother said
it was once a beautiful place. A living memorial of the foundation of this nation.”
“Can’t have been much of a place to be for your people back then?”
“My people? You mean black?”
He shrugged as if a little embarrassed.
“My people are American, and that is our history. Good and bad, all of it, it is ours.”
“You said it used to be beautiful, what is it now?” Flinn asked.
“The university there is mostly abandoned. Most of the people have long gone. There ain’t no jobs in a place like that. I don’t think many give it any care anymore, but for a handful.”
“So why are we going there?”
“It’s a good place to keep an eye on what troops are coming and going, right out on the coast. The people there have been useful, and they need our help. Isn’t that enough, Johnny? You came from across the world to help us, didn’t you?”
“Watch out!” Johnny yelled.
She gripped the wheel and swerved. A car lay ahead, and it had obviously been there for some time. A thick layer of snow covered the vehicle, and fresh falls made it almost invisible. She turned as hard as she could and managed to get the front wheels clear, but the tail end of the minivan clipped the car and sent them into an uncontrolled spin. They slid to a halt with one wheel in a ditch on the roadside.
“Everyone okay?” Zoey asked.
They groaned, but they were all okay.
She prised the door open and got out to investigate. The sedan following had come to a halt, the four of them that had gotten fixated on something behind her, and they couldn’t look away.
“What the hell?” Johnny asked.
She almost didn’t want to look but knew she had to. She peered around and stopped in horror at what she saw. A man had been crucified on a pylon made into a cross. Several others lay dead on the ground around him, their bodies almost covered in snow.
One man beside the sedan threw up, but Zoey drew closer to investigate. There were no signs of weapons, or any of their attackers. They looked like ordinary Americans that had been brutally slaughtered at the roadside. The car they had clipped clearly belonged to them and was riddled with bullets.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Flinn.
“Look at that.” Zoey pointed to the crucified man, “His throat has been cut. He wasn’t put up there as a punishment. It is a warning.”
“These aren’t soldiers we are fighting, they are monsters!” said a man from the other car.
“What do you want to do?”
“Load up, Johnny. This changes nothing. We have a job to do, and we are going to do it!”
“But…”
“But nothing! Let’s go!”
They rocked the minivan up and down until they were able to push it from the ditch and continue on, but their tone had changed. They were mortified. Even Johnny and Flinn, who had lived through horrific things back in England.
“Those bastards, they are going to pay for this,” she muttered.
* * *
Panzerschiffe Admiral Borckenhagen, Norfolk, Virginia
The mighty Admiral Borckenhagen Flotilla paraded along the East Coast of the old United States with its proverbial tail between its legs. They’d left a matter of a few days earlier with all the pomp and circumstance one might expect of a small fleet of the Kriegsmarine. But now, for the first time since the War, the ships of the Kriegsmarine were broken and beaten, and none showed this more than the cruiser herself. She was holed in more than fifty places, with damage above and below the waterline. A humiliation for the Kriegsmarine, and an even greater humiliation for Kommodore Gervas Ulli.
I have failed…how could it have come to this?
He looked out at his flotilla and lowered his head in shame. The flotilla waited in the bay, tugs and other vessels hovering around them like flies. Three ships belched smoke from the still burning fires deep inside their hulls. They should have tied up the day earlier, but with the scores of new arrivals, they had been told to wait. Kommodore Gervas Ulli was concerned this was a punishment for his failure at Manhattan, and with every passing hour, their position worsened. The assault ship lay almost a kilometre from the shore and was dropping lifeboats into the choppy water. The fires didn’t look so bad from inside the heavily armoured cruiser, but he’d seen the reports. Shells had triggered several small fires. Then a terrible mixture of poor maintenance, timing, and slow reaction had turned minor problems into catastrophe. He reached for the intercom for the tenth time in the last hour.
“Kapitän Marx. What is happening?”
It took nearly twenty seconds before the worried man replied.
“The fires have knocked out our pumps. Fire fighting equipment is useless. We’re taking on water, and…”
“Enough, Kapitän. What about your engines?”
The short pause was followed by a groan.
“Engines are gone. I’ve issued the order to abandon ship.”
Without saying another word contact between the two ships cut off. It might have been an accident, or perhaps the Kapitän was looking to save his own skin. Neither case impressed him much. Kommodore Gervas Ulli turned his attention back to the ships, and he watched the unfolding drama, repeatedly shaking his head. He’d made a mistake moving in so close to the city, especially when defectors with landships were known to be operating. That much he knew now, and also that this meant his career had to be over. He would be blamed for the loss of the assault ship, and for the damage in the rest of the small fleet. He moved his attention to the helmsman.
“Bring us closer. We need to assist with the evacuation of the ship.”
The man started to answer, but was drowned out by a mighty groan reverberating through the hull of the powerful cruiser. The painful groan could have been some mighty beast from the distant past.
“What in the name of damnation was that?”
The sound came again, and this time he knew it wasn’t the engines. This was a tortured, guttural noise that announced the bending and twisting of steel. The Kommodore grabbed onto the control panel to his right as another blast shook the ship so violently, he could see the horizon beginning to tilt at an angle. The helmsman struggled with the controls, doing his best to remain upright. Warning klaxons continued their call.
“Kommodore,” said the helmsman, “The listing is becoming uncontrollable! I have to flood the port compartments, or we’ll lose the ship.”
He glared at the helmsman and then looked to where they were heading. Dozens of ships were waiting out at sea, including many warships.
So, the fleet has arrived at last. Not a single day too early.
Any pleasure he might have derived from the arrival of reinforcements was wiped away by the humiliation of his current predicament. He hadn’t been beaten in battle; he’d been beaten by a single landship that dated back to the War. The cruiser shuddered once more, and then a cloud of fire erupted from the bow as the magazine under the secondary gun turret exploded. People and metal blasted from the deck, followed by clouds of smoke.
“Sir, what are your orders?”
He shook his head and then pointed to the nearest shore.
“Flood the lower port decks, and then take us to the shore. We need to beach her before it’s too late.”
“Beach?” said the helmsman incredulously.
Korvettenkapitän Hoth walked in and hesitated as the explosions wracked the hull.
“Kommodore, the ship is sinking. We must have taken more damage on the hull than estimated.”
“Really?” The Kommodore’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “That landship tore holes in this ship from bow to stern. Her captain is a traitor to the Reich.”
“Agreed. But we need to get you off this ship. It is…”
He stopped upon seeing the expression on Kommodore Ulli’s face.
“I will not leave this ship, not while a single member of crew remains onboard. It is imperative that we get her to shallower water, and fast.”
“Do it, and do it fast,” said Kommodore Ulli, moving back to Korvettenkapitän Hoth.
“I want you to begin the evacuation of all non-critical crew. There’s a chance further magazines could blow. It is one thing to lose the ship, another to lose our people.”
This time there was no hesitation.
“Good. Go to it.”
Korvettenkapitän Hoth saluted smartly and moved to the bridge wing. Another half a dozen officers remained at their stations, even as the ship appeared to list further and further to the side.
“Kommodore,” said the Chief Engineer, “I have the list reduced to four degrees, but I can’t hold it for much longer.”
“That’s enough. Now keep the engines running.”
For the next twelve minutes, Panzerschiffe Admiral Borckenhagen moved at a snail’s pace through the frigid waters around the Norfolk Naval Base. The charts showed the best places, but with engine power potentially limited, Kommodore Ulli was taking no chances. They were soon parallel to the coast, yet travelling much slower than normal. Smoke belched from the smokestacks, the engines working flat out to move the ever-heavier ship. When he was sure they were close enough, he dared to check on the rest of the fleet. Three vessels were far away in a column heading to the base, each escorted in by pilot boats. Seen from the opposite direction, the sight was bizarre. The assault ship burned from every angle. It was as though a great bonfire sat upon the ocean, surrounded by civilian craft, lifeboats, tugs, and a handful of military vessels. Every few seconds another flash or eruption would announce the detonation of fuel or ammunition stores.
For shame. For utter shame.
“Kommodore, we’re about to hit the shallows.”
Kommodore Ulli pulled the intercom unit to his mouth.
“Brace for impact. When the engines stop, you will abandon ship, and head to the mainland. Remember your training, and stay calm. It is…”
He flew forward, smashing his head on what remained of the angular glass windows of the bridge. It almost knocked him out cold. By the time his vision returned, he could see the land to one side, and dozens of small craft heading away from the stricken ship. Her hull groaned as she was tugged and pulled on the rocks, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing the ship hadn’t been merely lost at sea.
Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War Page 13