“I’ll bet you they’ve all cleared out,” Dubinski said as he looked around nervously. “You want I should take some men around the back of the place?”
“Do it.” Dubinski nodded and took a squad on a patrol around the back of the compound. Canfield ordered those men not involved in the probably hopeless but necessary task of checking the burned buildings for survivors to stand down and be careful not to shoot their own side.
A short while later, Dubinski returned with four men in tow. Two of them were wounded but all were conscious and angry. Their senior man was a buck sergeant with a bandage around his head.
“Fuckers jumped us. We were on the lookout when they rode up to the gate, bold as brass, and led by a cop car. Hell, we thought it was more help, maybe even relief, so we relaxed. But then they shot the lieutenant and the kid at the gate and roared in, shooting everything in sight. Me, I got lucky. I had just gone off duty and gone out back for a smoke when the shit hit the fan.”
Canfield had no doubt what his other units would find — just more of the same. Still, they would confirm the obvious. He would leave a squad to protect the survivors and would call in for medical assistance. His men could stop looking for survivors in the burned ruins. He mentally kicked himself for not having brought ambulances with him, but he didn’t have any immediately available and his orders precluded waiting.
Now it was really getting light out. “I think the Germans have long since cleared out,” Canfield said. “They probably had small boats stashed along the shore and are halfway to Toronto by now.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Dubinski said. “Be downright dumb to hang around and wait for us to show up, and I don’t think the Nazis are dumb.”
No they are not, Canfield thought. He froze as he heard the sound of airplane engines. A few moments later, a long, ribbon of what they quickly identified as German aircraft began flying over them, all heading south. Intuitively, he knew that several other streams of enemy planes were also crossing over the U.S. border and heading to their targets.
“Bastards,” Dubinski screamed, “you fucking bastards!”
Chapter Eleven
Confusion reigned at the Pentagon, even more so than normally, thought Tom Grant. Everybody and his brother was screaming for information and nobody had any. There were rumors galore, but very little in the way of facts. Something big and bad was unfolding along the border with Ontario and nobody was quite sure what. Had the Germans actually attacked a week early? If so, an American enemy had again caught the United States with its pants at least half down.
Truscott burst into the room, followed by Eisenhower. This very early morning there was no engaging grin on Ike’s face. He looked like he wanted to kill.
“Gather around and let’s summarize,” Truscott said. Grant noticed that Ike stayed in the background. “To the best of anyone’s knowledge, what is happening in Detroit?”
Major Schuman responded. “Sir, it’s becoming clear that good sized raiding parties crossed the river at several locations and have commenced blowing up industrial facilities. We know that the Ford Rouge plant is burning at a number of places, along with the Willow Run plant that makes B24 bombers. We believe that a trainload of German soldiers came out of the railroad tunnel under the Detroit River and simply raced up the tracks to the factory that produces tanks and are blowing it up. From what we’re getting from telephone calls and short wave radio, the raids are ongoing and the Nazis haven’t pulled out. It’s likely that other factories will be destroyed as well.”
Ike finally spoke. “Then they’re stupid. They can’t destroy those facilities. They can only damage them, and we can repair them fairly quickly. They may be down for a couple of weeks, even some months, but destroy them? Hell, no!”
“And Patton’s on his way,” Truscott added with a smile. Patton had been ordered to keep his divisions at least fifty miles away from Detroit and the river, but apparently had permitted some good sized elements to “patrol and maneuver” much closer to the city. They were on their way, mad as hell and armed to the teeth. Patton had a history of twisting some orders and disobeying others.
“What about Fredendall?” asked Colonel Downing. “Is he moving men towards the river?”
Truscott glared at him. “Apparently he’s digging in.” Truscott’s expression made it clear what he thought of Fredendall’s decision.
Fredendall was Marshall’s fair haired boy and was supposed to be a real fire breather. This night, however, he hadn’t moved. Tom and Downing shared a glance. Had the almost infallible General Marshall made a mistake? It wouldn’t be the first time that someone with a solid peacetime record failed when the guns began firing. He recalled that Fredendall had never led troops in combat and wondered if he was freezing under the reality. If you didn’t count the incident on the Canadian freighter, Tom hadn’t led men in combat either, but he wasn’t in charge of an army.
Truscott changed the topic. “Grant, what about the radar sites?”
“General, I can confirm that there’s been no response from them, either by phone or radio. The 27th regiment has patrols out, but it looks more and more like they were all blown up by saboteurs, just like what’s happening in Detroit.
Tom wondered if Major Canfield was involved in checking the radar sites. Probably, he thought. The man knew the area.
Ike stood and paced. A cigarette dangled from his mouth and it occurred to Tom that neither general had gotten much sleep this night. Why, he wondered? Was it possible that they suspected, even knew, that the German assault would come this Saturday and not the next? He would have to ask Alicia if she’d heard anything from Camp Washington and then wondered if she’d tell him even if she knew.
Tom wasn’t done with the bad news. “We are being further hampered by the fact that electricity is out in a number of places in upper New York State and in Michigan.”
“So we’re blind,” Ike said. “Well, let’s do what we can. First, the men we do have along the border just became human spotters. Get them along that radar gap with radios and telescopes. We might not stop the first attack, but we sure as hell can stop the next ones. At least we’ll get a little warning.”
“Are we going to get planes in the air?” asked Downing.
Truscott laughed harshly. “And send them where? The German HE111 has a range of more than fourteen hundred miles, which means it can fly from Toronto to Washington and back with no problem. Yeah, we’ll go on alert and have planes up to protect those areas. We may be wasting our time, but we have to do something.”
Truscott looked at Grant who had turned aside. “You don’t agree with that, major?”
Grant sucked in his breath. It never paid for a mere major to argue with a two star general. “Sir, I think there may be a pattern in their attacks. Yes, I don’t think we can rule out a bombing raid on either New York or Washington, but it seems to me that they are going after industrial targets. If I’m right, I really think they’ll make a big push to hit steel producing facilities at Pittsburgh, and maybe just nuisance raids on New York or Washington.”
“Why just nuisance raids?” asked Truscott.
Grant answered. “General, they just don’t have that many planes and the ones they have can’t do the job. We estimate there’s somewhere around a thousand German planes now in Canada and only a couple of hundred of them are their HE111 bombers. Worse, the German bombers only carry a couple of tons of bombs each. They might get off one raid on Washington, like Doolittle did to Tokyo, but it won’t change things in the long run.
“Makes sense,” said Truscott.
Ike thought for a moment and made the decision. “I agree that the krauts won’t send many of their bombers down here without fighter protection. If I recall, their bombers are very vulnerable, and the ME109 would barely make it to Washington, even with drop tanks. New York, however, would be within range. That said, we will concentrate on protecting our industry and hope that the bases around D.C. and New York are alert and r
eady. I’m sure the Germans will attack Washington if only to show that they can.”
“So when do we go on the offensive?” asked Downing.
Ike appeared to wince before he answered. “Not until the president says so. He’s waffling. He’s awake and being informed as quickly as we find out ourselves. General Marshall and Admiral King are with him. For a man who wanted the Germans to throw the first stone, he now wants to make sure this is the real thing and not something the krauts can apologize for and then move on, like they did with that destroyer they sank. He wants to make sure they’ve actually started a war and not just created a bloody incident. Apparently, he’s still afraid that the politicians who are in favor of totally supporting the war against Japan and, not surprisingly, supporting those thieves in China, will rise up against him. If he was to ask for a declaration of war and congress turns it down, it would be humiliating.”
Grant was incredulous. “Sir, that’s preposterous. If the reports are correct, Germans have killed hundreds of our people and their bombers may be on their way to our cities as we speak. Sir, we’ve got to strike back just as soon as we can.”
Ike’s face turned red and Tom thought his military career had just come to a screeching halt. Ike took a deep breath and smiled tightly. “Major, I will tell you I agree with everything you’ve said if you will forget I just said that. Understood?”
Tom sheepishly said he did. A corporal rushed in, looked around in shock at all the brass staring at him, and handed a sheet of paper to Ike who read it and smiled. “Waiting may be over, gentlemen. This is from Ernie King and he’s saying that Kraut subs have begun attacking our shipping. On his own, he’s ordered his ships and planes to attack and kill U-boats.”
Terry Romano and the men of the Vampire had just begun the turn back to base when they received the message that jarred them and which they would remember for the rest of their lives. They were to commence unrestricted attacks on German U-boats immediately.
The first thing Terry did was ask for confirmation, and an angry voice complied. Then he asked what American subs were in the area and was assured that none were within a couple of hundred miles of his location.
“How much fuel we got,” he asked and was told enough for a couple of hours, maybe more if they were careful.
Terry ordered them back over the ocean and got a raucous cheer from his crew. Finally, they were going to be doing something. Well, maybe. First they would have to find a German. They’d done it before, but the Germans hadn’t been at war with the U.S. and might have been letting the Americans score some phantom points just to see what the bombers could do.
They’d been back on the graveyard shift for several weeks and it would be light enough to see in a while. After flying back over the ocean for half an hour, they were beginning to wonder if their efforts were wasted when the co-pilot, Phil Watson, spotted the flames. A ship was on fire. They flew low and confirmed that it was an oil tanker that had become a raging inferno. The Germans had drawn first blood and that enraged them.
They called in the ship’s location and were informed that the Coast Guard was already on the way. They could see a couple of lifeboats standing away from the dying tanker.
“I wonder how many made it out of that inferno?” Watson asked quietly. It was all too likely that men had either been burned to death or drowned. This was their first experience of war and, while they would not admit it out loud, they didn’t like it at all.
Another half an hour and they were beginning to have serious fuel concerns. The sun was rising which made things a little easier. The sea below was relatively calm and they looked hard for the tell-tale sign of a periscope or a snorkel making waves that shouldn’t be there.
“Got something,” said the radar operator. “It’s not much, but I think we should give it a look-see.”
Romano agreed and turned in the direction of the sighting. He also had them drop to a much lower altitude, thinking that the sub would be submerged and using its snorkel and unable to see the Vampire.
And there it was, looking like a pipe sticking out of the water and moving slowly towards land.
“What do we do now?” asked Watson.
“First, we re-re-reconfirm that there aren’t any of our boats around. Then we attack. The bastard may be underwater, but he can’t possibly be that deep if we can see his periscope. We’ll go in with guns blazing and maybe we’ll hurt him.”
The response from shore came quickly — attack! Terry flew the Vampire low over the waves and so slow he almost stalled. He lined the B24 on what he assumed was the sub’s stern and, with heart pounding, began his approach. He had his anti-tank gun, rockets, and a couple of five hundred pound bombs. They would fire and drop everything.
The snorkel grew steadily larger. “Now,” he yelled and 37mm shells stitched their way across the waves to the sub. Tony held the stream steady, inundating the snorkel which appeared to snap off. The rockets fired and he felt the plane lurch as the bombs were dropped. They exploded behind him in giant plumes of water as the bomber swept over the sub’s location and they felt the plane shudder from the shock wave. What the hell must it be like under the water, he wondered?
The Vampire banked upward and Tony planned for a second run. Unfortunately, there was no trace of the sub. They circled for a few more minutes, wondering if they’d ever know if they’d hit it.
“Skipper, is that debris?”
Tony again held the plane at near stall speed and took a look. Yes, it was debris. But what did it mean? The Germans had been known to empty trash through their torpedo tubes to make their enemies think that the sub had been killed. Was this such a case? Damn.
Watson grabbed Tony’s arm. “Jesus, she’s surfacing.”
Sure enough, the sub was doing an emergency surface. She emerged suddenly from the sea and splashed down.
“We go in one more time,” Tony exulted.
“Sir, I think they’re abandoning her,” said the tail gunner.
The sub was down by the stern and sinking. Men were pouring out of her and throwing life rafts into the sea. The sub rolled on its side and slowly disappeared while black smoke billowed out from the hatches. The men of the Vampire whooped and yelled. The radio operator said he’d taken some great photos.
Tony joined in the yelling until he recalled something somebody else had said about the sinking ship. “How many got out?” he asked.
“No more than thirty,” Watson answered. He realized where Tony was going.
“And how many in a sub’s crew?” Tony prodded.
“I guess maybe fifty or sixty.”
“Then don’t cheer, the poor bastards are dying,” said Tony. He couldn’t quite recall who’d first used that phrase, maybe somebody from the Spanish-American War. Regardless, it was appropriate. They’d made a kill but that meant that people were well and truly dead and they had caused those deaths.
They confirmed that a destroyer was on its way to pick up the Germans and then checked their fuel. They would make it back to base, but not by much. They would have to report a fuel emergency, but nobody back home would mind. They’d killed a Nazi sub. So why didn’t they feel happy?
Something big was happening and the only thing Alicia could think of was war. What had the Germans done? It was clear that a crises was brewing, but that had happened before. Oh God, she wondered, was this finally the real thing?
She’d been awakened in the middle of the night and told to take a package of messages to the Pentagon immediately. She dressed, gathered her guards and was on her way. Her guards logically assumed that she knew what was happening and were put out when she said she didn’t. Clearly they did not believe her.
She arrived at the Pentagon at daybreak. The level of security had been increased. Large numbers of MPs had the place cordoned off and it took several minutes for her to be passed through. One young MP Lieutenant wanted to examine the contents of her pouch and was furious when she refused. He didn’t believe that a woman would be
carrying secret documents and told her so. Finally, a bird colonel straightened things out and Alicia made her way inside and delivered the package. She wondered if Tom was behind one of those doors and fought the urge to try and find out.
There was near chaos in the building as people moved quickly down the hallways. She saw Eisenhower almost running down the hallway. Something major was clearly happening. It was also quite obvious that she was not going to see Tom this morning. There had been no repetition of the wonderful evening at the Downing’s. There hadn’t been a moment’s privacy since then.
She left the Pentagon with a radiant smile for the lieutenant who’d tried to take the pouch. He glared at her and turned away. The hell with him, she thought and laughed. It was just something else about her life, values, and attitudes that had changed and she felt better for it.
She got her guards and they decided to drive around the Mall that led to the Capitol Building just to see what was happening. Along the Mall, trucks and busses were unloading more guards and more barbed wire was being laid to surround the building that housed the Congress. Additional anti-aircraft guns had been placed around the old building.
Alicia was just about to say that it was time to get back to Camp Washington when air raid sirens began to howl. Soldiers told them to get out of their car and lie down on the ground.
“Aren’t there any shelters around here?” she yelled.
“Probably,” answered a sergeant, “but I don’t know where they might be, and I can’t let you inside the Capitol itself.”
She heard the crump-crump of anti-aircraft guns and looked skyward to see a number of planes high up in the sky. Things were falling from the planes, and she realized that she was watching bombs falling from their bellies. Frantically, she tried to dig into the soft dirt. Seconds later, explosions rocked the area. One near miss sent dirt over her.
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