Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War

by Michael G. Thomas

  In that moment, he was in his element. This was the fight he had always wanted back in London, and he knew Gerry felt it, too. This was the chance they were robbed of so many years ago, and he wasn’t going to waste it now.

  “Come on, we’ve got to move!”

  She drew out a smoke grenade, primed it, and tossed it down the street past his position. The smoke soon flooded the street.

  “That’s the last one!”

  He ran after her. They made it several blocks and found cover amongst the wreckage of some more vehicles. He flipped out the bipod of the MG3, dropped it down onto the rusting hood of a car, and knelt down beside it. Smoke lined the streets, and briefly there was relative peace, just the odd shot from the side streets as skirmishes battled it out. Trees grew out through the buildings and the roads swallowed up by weeds and dust, little resemblance of the great city that once stood beneath their feet. They could still make out some of the shop names, but the city was a ruined husk. Anything worth taking was long gone, and all that remained the corpses of old cars and vehicles.

  “I always wondered what this city used to be like. I mean, I have seen photos, but it’s not the same. I bet it was beautiful.”

  Ray nodded in agreement, for he wished the same. He wasn’t old enough to remember it in any other way either.

  “We’ll make it great once more.”

  “You think so?”

  “What could be more an act of defiance? New York is my home, but I don’t just fight for my city, we fight for a lot more than that. One day the shops will re-open, and the flags will fly again. Kids will play in the streets.”

  “I didn’t know you were one for poetry?” she replied sarcastically.

  “When you spend enough time behind bars, you have plenty of time to dream.”

  “We have all been living behind bars, until people like Weathers and you showed us the way out.”

  It warmed his heart to know she at last appreciated all that he had done. There was a glimmer of movement in the smoke ahead, and several troops stormed through. The Stoßtruppen led the way in their heavy armour.

  “Here we go again.”

  Ray squeezed the trigger before she even finished speaking, and a burst of fire hit an armoured SS trooper. The first dozen rounds did not penetrate, but knocked him back. Eventually, a few more found openings, and he went down. He panned across the scene, laying down a brutal burst of fire. Some shots were enough to take the legs out from under the enemy, even if it did not wound them. Other troopers went for cover.

  “Ray!”

  He noticed something flying through the air at quite a low velocity, and it began to descend towards their cover, a rifle grenade. She grabbed him and hauled him back, but he brought the machine gun with them as they crashed onto the filthy road. The car behind ignited into a fireball, and Ray felt a small piece of debris bury into his left shoulder blade. He winced in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

  Explosions rang out about the street as more grenades and mortar fire ignited.

  “We’ve got to move. They’ve ranged in on us!” Roy shouted.

  “Fall back, everyone back!”

  He was up in no time and firing from the hip. Others did the same. He got several bursts through until one jammed. There was little ammunition left, anyway, so he threw the weapon aside and followed on after the others. They took a bend as a mortar shell landed at their backs, spurring them on to move even faster.

  Ray pulled his rifle off his back ready to use as they kept running. Gunfire rang out at their backs. More burnt out cars abandoned decades before provided cover. Doug and five others had remained to cover them.

  “Come on!” Ray yelled as he reached safety.

  Dozens more ran past, several carrying wounded.

  “We are getting slower,” said Roy.

  “I know,” replied Ray.

  “And they are getting faster.”

  “I know!”

  A mortar shell landed between Doug and Will, and they were blown apart from one another. Ray rushed out to their aid.

  “Ray!” Lisa cried.

  He wouldn’t stop. As he drew nearer, he saw Will getting back up, stunned but crawling towards Doug to check on him. His body was smouldering. Ray reached him, but he had several holes in his body and was badly burnt.

  “He’s dead! Come on!” Ray shouted.

  He hauled Will to his feet. Will didn’t hesitate, but was still stunned. Gunfire struck around their feet, but returned by those covering them, and they soon leapt in behind the wreckage of a minivan.

  “Doug, Doug?” Will mumbled.

  He was in shock, and nobody could blame him. He was rapidly losing so many people he knew and cared for.

  “We have to keep moving,” said Roy.

  Ray nodded in agreement. Less than a hundred of them were left. It seemed a pitiful handful compared to the armies bearing down on them.

  “Come on, we gotta go!”

  * * *

  American Union National Arboretum, Washington D.C.

  6 hours later

  Marcus moved quickly along the snow-covered ground of the Arboretum and soaked in the cool air and smells. He’d never been this close to the old capitol before, and found everything about the place to be absolutely fascinating. In the years since the atomic destruction of the city, the place had grown into something of a wilderness, with tall trees reaching up in all directions. It was the perfect cover to hide his forces, and Marcus was wasting no time. At his sides were his two loyal deputies, Korvettenkapitäns Mose König and Thaddeus Kyle. Gone were their Kriegsmarine uniforms, replaced by the same mixture of civilian clothing worn by most of the rebels. They retained their long Kriegsmarine coats, and of course their Naval caps. Nothing, not even a full-scale war could change that. The distant rumble of gunfire served as a constant reminder that the battle was already well underway.

  “What the hell have we stopped for?”

  Marcus glanced over to Thaddeus.

  “We need every man and woman in this fight. And look at them here. I see nearly fifty people, all armed and they look half competent.”

  “Keep digging!” shouted a man with a local accent. He was so busy organising his people he’d barely noticed the men approaching him.

  “What are you doing here?” Thaddeus Kyle asked.

  The man looked back at them, noticing their coats and caps, and almost reached for his sidearm. He moved fast; as if he’d practiced the quick draw most of his life.

  “Easy!” Marcus said, suddenly realising the danger they were in.

  “I came in that.” He pointed to the tall, shadowy machine a few hundred metres away, “We’ve been running on batteries to get through.”

  The man pulled away fabric from his face so that his ski goggles were all that remained.

  “You’re the skipper of the landship, from Manhattan?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Well, hell, yeah. Good to meet you man. I’m Jack Thomas. These are my…well, they’re my unit. Mostly civilians, with a handful of retired military.”

  He moved forward, greeting each in turn before looking back at his own people.

  “We’re patriots, every one of us. We heard the calls to arms, and we’ve seen the columns coming from the northeast.”

  “Yes, there are substantial numbers coming this way. You need to fall back to the city with us. We’ll fight them from inside the city limits. This will be the battle of the century.”

  The man shook his head.

  “No chance. We let these bastards beat us once…”

  The distant rumble of gunfire caught his attention. He looked to the north, but Marcus nodded off to the east to the sea.

  “That’s heavy guns. They’ve brought up cruisers and a battleship to the coast. Trust me. You’ve never seen a fight like this. You need to join us and fall back.”

  “Like I said, no chance. No Nazi will step foot inside Washington D.C. ever again. My grandfather told me storie
s about these people and what they did to millions of innocents. Never again.”

  Marcus reached out and grasped his arm. It looked something like an ancient Roman greeting and bonded the two for a second.

  “I understand. We’re all fighting against the same barbarism. When they come, they will hit you like a hammer on an anvil. There is no shame in retreat.”

  The militiaman smiled.

  “We know, trust us.”

  Marcus shook his hand once more, and then turned to move back to the landships. He could hear the line of volunteers working away with their shovels. The wind blasted more snow in their direction, but he remained thankful still of the weather. It kept the Luftwaffe away, giving him perfect cover to hide his units.

  “No peace for the wicked, huh?” Mose König said in mock disappointment.

  “Something like that. I wasn’t joking, though. They won’t last five minutes.”

  “Captain Klenner!” shouted a voice from atop the nearest landship.

  “What is it?”

  “Contact from the Viper. Ground forces have been spotted on the main highways, and they’re moving fast. Two columns from the south, plus the one we know about coming in from the northeast, the city limits. The Viper reckons we’ve got an hour tops before they reach the objective.”

  Marcus was already running and reached the ladder hanging down from the machine. The Militants were close, their diesel engines belching smoke. It didn’t take long for him to get inside. His two comrades separated and joined the others in the smaller machines. Once in position he grabbed for the intercom.

  “Viper. We’re twenty minutes out.”

  The radio crackled to life.

  “Hurry. We need you here. Don’t spare the horses. We’re counting on you.”

  Marcus nodded slowly.

  “How are your people?”

  “Dying. We’re paying in blood to make this look like the real deal. Bring everybody you have left and get back here.”

  Marcus licked his lips.

  “I’m bringing everything.”

  * * *

  Capitol Hill, Washington D.C

  Woody paced back and forth. He desperately wanted to do something, anything, but knew he had to stay put to keep in control of everything that was about to go down.

  “Sir, I just heard that Baker has made it back,” said Charlie.

  “Baker? Ray’s Baker?”

  “Yes, Sir, he’s working with Marcus to get things ready.”

  “Good, that will do fine, and how is Ray doing?”

  “Not well.”

  “Will he make it this far?”

  Charlie didn’t want to answer, and that was concerning.

  “Of course he will,” declared Isaac.

  “Sir, what do I do now?”

  Charlie had a rifle in hand as if eager and willing to fight.

  “You stay close to me, you here?”

  “But I want to fight.”

  “Don’t be silly. None of us wants to fight, but we do what we must, and today all of us must fight. You will get your turn. Pray it doesn’t come too quickly.”

  He looked out across the barren fields of the hill that led to the ruins of the Capitol Building. The once green fields were now potholed trenches covered in snow, and the heavy downfall limited their visibility.

  “Can’t see a damn thing in this weather,” said Woody.

  “Be thankful. If we could, it would be the Luftwaffe that we’d be seeing,” replied Isaac.

  Diggers were working around them, digging huge holes, but most of the Maquis stayed well out of sight, hidden to any enemy that might be able to somehow look on.

  “Come with me,” said Woody.

  He led the two of them up the steps of the Capitol Building. Half of it was rubble, but they rushed up an exposed stairway onto what remained of the roof. They could hear gunfire and explosions to the south. He lifted his binoculars to look out for Ray. With all the buildings in between them, little was visible other than the flashes of light and explosions from mortar fire and artillery. It was growing increasingly closer to where he was standing.

  “So this is where we hold them? The city that was once a symbol of resistance, and was wiped off the map at the push of a button?”

  “The people here never had a chance, but we do. The chance to put up the fight they couldn’t. They were robbed of it,” replied Isaac.

  “We can’t fail them,” said Charlie enthusiastically.

  Woody appreciated his positivity, but it was founded in the naïve enthusiasm of a child. To their amazement, the flagpole over the centre of the Capitol Building still stood, even if the flag that flew from it was long gone.

  “My god, it still stands,” said Woody.

  “Did you ever see it? When it was still intact?”

  “I’m not that old, Charlie,” Isaac groaned, “But my father told me about it. I think he might have even taken me here when I was a new-born.”

  “Too long the Reich has ruled over us. We should have rebuilt long ago.”

  He turned back to the north. Streams of the New York militia were pouring in. They were two klicks out.

  “Will it be enough?” Charlie asked.

  “It has to be.”

  “But where are the landships?”

  It was the question in all their minds.

  “There they are!”

  Between the ruined buildings Isaac could make out several Militants crashing through the streets. The snow hammered down, and the visibility atrocious, but he was thankful for it. They could never have hoped to move such an army into position in complete secrecy without it. He shivered and rubbed his gloved hands against his shoulders, trying to warm up. The diggers were all around now, the construction vehicles they brought with them from New York to work and build the defences. Others slaved away with shovels, some digging into the ruins of Capitol Building itself.

  A column of walking machines lumbered through the snow, but even as they watched, shells began to land all around. The three of them ducked down for cover at the remains of one of the corner walls.

  “They must have spotted us!” Woody yelled.

  “No, they aren’t after the walkers. They’re after Ray. Look!”

  Shells landed in a four-kilometre radius, everywhere except the most southern position where their own troops advanced. A mighty shell landed to the north. A Militant collapsed onto a nearby building where a lucky shell had hit it head on. The ruined structure collapsed under its weight, and the machine vanished into the rubble.

  Woody didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. They all felt the loss. It was one they could not afford. Troops poured into the buildings as they prepared to spring their trap.

  “Blue Hawk, come the fuck in!” Ray yelled over the radio on Isaac’s back.

  Woody grabbed the handset.

  “This is Blue Hawk. What is your status? Over.”

  “It’s a complete cluster fuck down here.”

  Constant gunfire and explosions were audible in the background.

  “Casualties are high. We are on the run. We can’t hold any longer! Our lines have broken. I repeat; our lines have broken!”

  “Get the hell out of there, fall back, fall back!”

  “No shit, we’re on the way! Over and out!”

  Isaac saw the look of concern on Woody’s face. This was the make or break moment for their entire operation, and for their lives. They were all questioning whether it had been the right decision to leave New York and take the enemy head on, but they couldn’t turn back now. They looked out south across the extensive ruins of the city. Many of the towers were still standing, even if by a thread. It was some cover for Ray’s withdrawal at least.

  “We aren’t going to get a second chance at this, you know that right?”

  “Isaac, when are we ever given a second chance at anything in this life of ours? If we are to fall here today, if that is our destiny, then so be it. But we’ll die on our feet, taking a stand,
and showing the world what we are made of.”

  “And if Ray can’t make it this far? It sounds like they’ve had it bad.”

  “If anyone can make it, it’s Ray. He’ll make it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  American Union National Arboretum, Washington D.C.

  The Arboretum looked peaceful now they’d hidden their trucks further back on the road leading into the city. Fresh snow covered their tracks, giving the place a pristine look as though no man or beast had ever set foot there. The distant sound of gunfire and battle was anything but peaceful, the thud of big guns sending low echoing sounds out across the countryside. Every few minutes the scream of massive Naval shells sent them down to the deepest parts of the trenches. There was no escape from the shelling, and a faint hope that they might not be the targets.

  Jack Thomas lay down low in the snow, closed his eyes, and prayed. He wasn’t a religious man, had never been a believer, yet here he was praying to any fool that would listen. He was no coward, but he didn’t want to die. He stopped, opened his eyes, and reached for his rifle. It was an old-fashioned Winchester Model 70, something of a classic in the Union and still used for hunting. This particular model was one of the more recent reproductions built by the Germans, and chambered for .30-06 Springfield. The long scope sat atop the two-piece mount with the clip-on covers still attached. He breathed in and nearly choked as the frigid air filled his lungs.

  “Thomas, you up for this?” Joe Johnson Junior asked.

  Jack looked to his right at the young man waiting in the shallow trench. Hardly the most impressive defensive position, it was more a scrape than actually a trench. They had dragged branches and twigs to the front, and then piled up snow in front to increase protection. There were another dozen of them there, including Joe’s younger sister, Joan.

  “Yeah, I’m ready all right. It’s time we kicked some Nazi ass!”

  Jack shook his head in mock frustration. All of them had had enough over the years, the work discrimination, violence, and intimidation. Life seemed to get progressively worse for people like him, while those working or collaborating with the Nazi regime flourished. The video footage of the executions smuggled out of Manhattan was enough to turn his stomach.