Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War

by Michael G. Thomas

  My father never had a chance for a fair fight. But today, hell, today we have our moment.

  As they watched, a man covered head-to-toe in hunting camouflage raced out from the trees. He was fast, and had he not lifted his arms he could easily have been shot.

  “It’s Billy,” said Joe.

  “Get back here!” Jack yelled.

  The camouflaged figure made it to within two metres when a shot rang out. Three more followed an instant later. With no sign of the enemy in the area, for a second Jack thought one of his own people had opened fire by mistake. The running man twisted awkwardly and then collapsed down into the trench in an ungraceful heap. Jack pulled him out of sight, and Joe retrieved the man’s fallen weapon from the snow.

  “Billy, you fool. I told you to keep your head down.”

  The man tried to laugh, but instead blood poured out of his mouth and down into the soft snow. Jack ripped open the man’s jacket but pulled back at seeing the wounds. Two in the chest, and the clothing was matted in slick blood.

  “Jack!” Billy groaned.

  “Hell, no,” Jack said angrily, gently lowering his friend to the floor. He then rose up to the front of the shallow trench and aimed his rifle in the direction Billy had come from. There were many shapes, and as they came closer, he could make out a mixture of Heer soldiers and SS infantry. They moved at a fast walk, their weapons drawn and ready to fight. The sound of powerful diesel engines rumbled behind them, though there was still no sign of the clanking beasts.

  “Be ready,” said Jack.

  The unit of militia took aim, released the safeties on the firearms, and waited for the order. Though a handful had any military experience, they remained calm and resolved, even letting the enemy come to within fifteen metres before reacting. One Heer soldier spotted something and pointed to the top of the trench while shouting.

  “Fire!”

  Forty rifles barked as one, sending carefully aimed bullets towards the advancing Reich soldiers. The majority hit their mark, dropping many where they stood. The Heer soldiers instantly dropped to their knees, or went prone. The SS men howled with anger and raced ahead.

  “Drive them back!”

  More gunfire crackled along the line, the patriots unleashing as much fire as they could. After the first few shots, the rate of fire dropped, cold, nerves, and confusion setting in. More than a dozen SS men fell before they were close enough to hurl grenades. One after another they landed in the trench and exploded soon after. Thump after thump marked the arrival of the explosives, and then behind the flames and smoke came the SS men. With fanatical zeal, they stormed the defences, guns blazing in all directions. Jack pulled back the bolt and fired at the first, hitting him in front of the trench, and leaving his submachine gun behind. More grenades exploded, and something sharp slammed into his left leg, causing him to wince.

  “That’s it boys!” one of his people shouted, “We’ve whipped ‘em. Keep shooting.”

  More fire from the position behind and to the left did its job, and as the SS soldiers tried to clear the first position, they came under fire from the second line. Five were cut down before their officer gave the order to fall back under cover of smoke.

  “I can’t believe it,” said Jack as they vanished from view. He looked around and then choked upon seeing the broken shape of Joe. There were three others, perhaps more along the line, and more crying out for help. Jack began to move, but stopped. A large, dark shape was moving closer and closer. He held his breath in stunned horror as three powerful Henschel E-80 Super Tiger heavy tanks advanced forwards. Their sleek fronts easily absorbed the pitiful shots from the defenders’ rifles. Around these vehicles swarmed a mix of SS and Heer soldiers.

  Jack lifted his rifle and fired. He missed his target, and the return fire from three soldiers sent him to the ground. He tried to get back up, but the sound of shooting forced him to keep his head down. Moments later the ninety tonne tank smashed through the defences and directly over the trench. Two of Jack’s comrades raced by, and one clambered from the trench.

  “Get back you idiot!” he yelled.

  It was too late to save him, and gunfire tore into the man, sending his body back into the trench and half on top of Jack. With the extra weight pushing down on him, he lost his balance and fell face down into the snow. He started to move, but the SS soldiers were in the trench. Gunfire ripped through the dead and the living alike, forcing him to push deep into the snow under the bodies of his comrades.

  “Any more alive?”

  “Just this one.”

  Jack closed his eyes and held his breath. The shots hammered into the motionless torso of Joe. Then to his amazement they climbed out, leaving him unscathed and buried in the trench. He waited there for several minutes too terrified to move. He then carefully lifted himself and pushed Joe’s body away. He raised his head slowly from the trench and looked to the north. There was no sign of the enemy, not even their dead or wounded. He turned around in time to see the tanks and hundreds of infantry vanish into the snowstorm.

  “Jack,” said a faint voice.

  Joan was standing over the body of her brother. Blood covered her winter coat on one side; her expression was of utter shock.

  “Are you hurt?” Jack moved towards her. She shook her head in silence as they embraced, the last two left alive. As they separated, Joan gasped. Shapes emerged from the snow and the trees, wounded militiamen, terrified teenagers, and more. Some carried weapons, but they all looked shell-shocked.

  A distant sound like that of a horn caught Jack’s attention. He looked to the north, expecting more enemy soldiers. There was nothing, just the howl of wind.

  “What was that?”

  * * *

  Capitol Hill, Washington D.C.

  The column of landships separated, Black Panther joining Eiserner Gott at the Capitol Building. The other four machines led by Bertha stamped through the snow towards the ruins of the National Gallery of Art. Black Panther slowed down as they passed the Library of Congress and the scores of people still preparing defences. Many stopped and looked up as the machines entered the ruins.

  “We’ll wait until we receive your command,” said Kibwe Tafari.

  “Understood,” replied Marcus, “It will happen fast, so make sure everything is ready.”

  The Militant landship climbed over the outer wall. Snow continued to poor down, partially obscuring the machine in the great clouds of white.

  “Okay, take us in to meet up with our British friend.”

  He looked down to his driver.

  “Lothar, and be careful, you know how they revere this place.”

  Lothar grinned.

  “I’ll try not to wreck the place any more than it already is.”

  The machine moved over pieces of broken masonry, the legs lifting the disturbed brickwork that had lain untouched ever since the atomic strikes. One foot smashed though an outer wall, and in seconds a piece the size of a house came down around the landship.

  “Uh…that’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that. This place is a minefield.”

  Marcus pulled a lever above his head and climbed out of the top of the landship. The position left him vulnerable, but also gave him the perfect view of the surrounding area. He watched carefully from the open command hatch as Karl Lothar carefully drove the heavy landship into position. Much of the city was a fraction of its former height, yet for some reason most of the buildings on Capitol Hill retained their stature. Although decades since the atomic destruction of the city, the undergrowth, and rising trees suggested it had been a ruin for hundreds of years. The thick snow made it the perfect place to hide their meagre forces, and for a few moments it seemed he was the only one there.

  “Easy now. Keep the leg up…that’s it.”

  The broken walls and outer shells of the buildings made traversing the ruin difficult, yet through a mixture of luck, and a lot of skill, they made it inside the husk of the old domed b
uilding. The legs bent as the machine stooped, reducing its total height to twelve metres. When level, and with the weapons systems on safe, Marcus closed the hatch and headed for the ladder that slowly extended downwards.

  Torsten Urs moved to follow him. “Stay in here. You can hear what’s going on. We need to be ready.”

  Torsten nodded and turned back to the crew. Marcus opened the lower hatch and slid down a little quicker than he’d expected. His boots hit the snow and vanished under the white carpet. As he straightened himself up, he flinched as the sound of heavy ordnance shook the ground. It didn’t take much time for him to reach the partially collapsed wall and look out to the west. The National Mall extended off into the distance. Had the weather been better, he would have been able to see the Washington Monument. Right now, he could scarcely make out the shattered remnants of the many museums that covered both sides of the National Mall.

  “Incoming!” yelled a man off to his right.

  Marcus braced himself, and multiple militiamen ran past carrying all manner of weapons. They were not soldiers, yet moved with a purpose that impressed him. This underlying bitterness in the Americas was not something he’d seriously considered. Although it clearly offended their pride and national psyche to be servants of the Reich.

  “Here it comes!” shouted another.

  Marcus saw the stream of fire coming down from the sky well before there was any sound. The massive projectile hit the ground like an asteroid falling from the skies. More came down, each exploding in a mighty flash that lit up the entire area. All the defenders ducked down, but not Marcus. The shelling continued with shot after shot, and then for no particular reason stopped. Five militia approached him, doing their best not to keep looking up at the mighty landship.

  “You’re the Kapitän?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Okay, come with us. We’ve not got much time.”

  They worked their way through multiple sections of shattered wall. They reached a cleared area that was lower in the building. Some remaining beams provided shelter from the snow, as well as hiding them from view. Radios and a motley collection of computer communications gear lay strewn atop large plastic and metal crates. Men and women spoke continually through old-fashioned headsets. One militia moved away to speak with them, and a man smiled upon seeing him. He immediately stopped what he was doing, straightened his coat, and walked towards him. The man’s rakish moustache marked him out apart from the rest.

  “Lieutenant Baker, very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  The man nodded politely and then saluted as though the two men were out on parade.

  “Kapitän Marcus Klenner, hero of Manhattan. Always a pleasure.”

  He spoke in a clipped, British accent that seemed so out of place. If he’d been American, the comments might have been a snide assertion, but the man looked as genuine as could be. A generation ago the two men had been enemies, fighting on opposite sides of the battle. Now everything had changed, and they seemed to have far more in common than they had apart.

  “The defences, they’re ready?”

  “As ready as they’ll ever be. I have the militias from seven groups in the city now, and they had time to prepare for this fight. That plus the recommissioned artillery from the SS barracks in the city will give us a fighting chance.”

  He looked up.

  “Thankfully the weather is on our side for a change. Would rather not have to deal with the Hun in the Sun.”

  As he said it, he grinned sheepishly.

  “Sorry, old boy, no insult intended.”

  “None taken.”

  Heavy shells landed not far from their location, and with each impact, large chunks of snow were thrown from the more exposed parts of the building.

  “They’ll be here soon, and they’re expecting a quick and easy victory.”

  He licked his lips as though relishing the fight to come.

  “And now you’ve brought me six landships, one tank, and all the men and women New York could muster. You put your other two officers in command of two of the machines, correct?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Yes. König and Kyle are assisting with two of the machines. They are outstanding officers. We are blessed to have them with us.”

  “Quite,” said Lieutenant Baker, twitching his moustache, “Their reputation is rather fearsome. I also see our great leader in Manhattan decided to stay behind to protect the city.”

  “Something like that. It’s the best we could manage, without leaving Manhattan and the districts unprotected.”

  This instantly put worried looks on those around the British officer.

  “The last reports showed the equivalent of an entire division, plus supporting units heading north from Norfolk. Heer and Waffen SS, plus several companies of loyalist militia, that’s quite an army to quell our little uprising.”

  “True. And don’t forget their stormtroopers. Nasty little blighters, they are.”

  Then that mischievous grin reappeared, and for a moment Marcus was taken back to the fighting in London. Even then, with all the destruction and defeat, he recalled the British attitude. They seemed able to take what was thrown at them, wipe off the dust, and drink another cup of tea before getting back into the fight.

  Incredible. They never change.

  “And eight landships in the main column alone. That’s a lot to deal with.”

  “Yes. But almost half are tied up in small skirmishes throughout the area. I expect two to three thousand, plus their landships and armour. Odds I’m sure our American friends can handle.”

  Marcus wasn’t quite sure what to say, so decided to shift the focus of the conversation. Before he could speak, another salvo of shells screamed down from the heavens to smash indiscriminately into the city.

  “This Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge. What sort of a man is he?”

  Marcus grinned.

  “He’s German in every sense of the word.”

  “Lieutenant Baker!”

  Both turned to see a frantic woman pointing at her computer system.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s the Viper. It’s hard to make out with all the jamming. It sounds like the panzers have broken through and are driving through the Mall.”

  “What about R…I mean, the Viper. He lives?”

  She shrugged.

  “Unknown. Reports are scattered. They are coming in large numbers, though.”

  Marcus sensed the moment was here, and his eyes met the British officer’s. Both could tell the time for preparation was over. Marcus beckoned towards the communications equipment, and the Lieutenant gave him a polite nod.

  “Go ahead.”

  Marcus smiled.

  “I want this to go out on all channels, unencrypted. That will give us the best chance to avoid their scramblers.”

  “True. And they will also hear us.”

  Marcus licked his lips.

  “Excellent, then that is what I shall do.”

  He moved towards the woman who on Lieutenant Baker’s orders handed over what looked like a massive, oversized telephone unit.

  “It’s ready when you are.”

  Marcus took a series of long, deep breaths.

  “This is Kapitän Marcus Klenner. Many of you know who I am. Some think I am a traitor to the Reich, and others some kind of hero. Well, I tell you today that I am neither. I am an immigrant to this country, like so many of you before me. I was born a German, but I live as an American.”

  The words surprised even Marcus, but he’d spent enough time around the men and women of the Union to know their history, and their beliefs.

  “I am one of you, an American citizen fighting for what Americans have fought for over many generations. First there was the fight to create a homeland of colonies, then to create a nation free of colonial control. Finally, we come to the greatest struggle of all, the fight against the fascism of the corrupt Third Reich.”

  Marcus looked to the others in the ruin
s of the building and found them looking at him with interest.

  “Washington is the symbol of American democracy, in the same way London was the symbol of European resistance. Today we will show the Reich what American patriots can do. To your posts. We fight to the last man and the last bullet. For freedom, and for America!”

  He handed the device back to the communications officer and looked to the British officer.

  “Will that work?”

  Lieutenant Baker chuckled to himself.

  “Well, it almost convinced me. Now, let’s make sure we’re ready for the kick-off. Right?”

  Marcus extended his hand, and the two men shook.

  “I’ll see you after the battle.”

  * * *

  “Come on, run you fools!” Ray hollered.

  He laid down a burst of fire against several SS soldiers. He killed one, but was forced to take cover behind a small stone wall. He slammed in a new magazine. The Capitol Building was a few hundred metres away. It came as a relief, but also brought on further stress. It was the end of the road. Everything was coming down to that now. He saw no movement on either side of the building. The militia had to be in there, or he prayed that they were. The ground shook beneath him. Landships ran amok at his back, and tanks thundered over the ground towards them.

  A dozen Maquis lay dead in his field of vision, and explosions erupted in every direction as artillery landed amongst them. He moved along the wall, where Lisa was readying a Panzerfaust and passed another one to him.

  “Better make these count,” she said.

  A landship strode towards them, firing at will. He took aim at one of its legs and fired without hesitation. The shell clipped the leg, and it ignited, sending the metal monster into a spin. Lisa fired the second, and the charge hit the landship at its back. It was thrown off balance as smoke rose from it and moved back for the crew to tend to its damage. Ray and Lisa had hoped for better. They could hear the thunder of ship guns in the distance, and the vast shells were landing amongst them. One struck a panel van several of the rebels were hiding behind. They and the vehicle vanished as a huge crater was blown into the land.