Before she could do anything, another similar sound rang out of something incoming. It struck the building they were sheltering in, and the ground beneath her gave way. She and Flinn fell into the cellar below. The shed collapsed in on them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alexandria, Commonwealth of Virginia
14th February 2018, Dawn
Operation Führerchlacht started in the early hours of St Valentine’s Day, well before the sun had broken through the flurry of snow continuing to fall from the skies. It had been running for less than three hours, and already the results were impressive. The complete resources of the East Coast garrison, including Heer, Waffen SS, and Kriegsmarine were now in action, with multiple small units sweeping along the coasts. Thirty-six trucks, eight tanks, and numerous armoured cars powered along the primary East Coast artery, the A95 Autobahn, as they made their way to Baltimore. They moved as quickly as they dared due to the treacherous driving conditions and howling winds. Visibility was little more than a hundred metres. A second unit that included twice as many tanks had split away thirty minutes earlier to move in on the rebel stronghold of Alexandria from three entry points.
Multiple barricades lay utterly smashed by the advancing military forces in a vain effort to block access into Alexandria. The same scenario now played out on all the main access roads, the smaller ones blocked off completely with burnt out cars. As the main arterial road from the south, St Patrick Street was the largest, and the one chosen by Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge for the final push into the city. A massive structure cut across the final section where the road split into a large crossroads. This improvised position blocked the eight-lane main street leading into the heart of the rebel-held area and was mostly constructed from abandoned automobiles. The low-lying sun rose slowly, casting long, warm shadows across the chunks of scrap metal and broken wood filling the gaps. A modest number of militia held the line, their civilian weapons pointing towards the approaching Reich forces.
This particular section of barricade was the largest, and at the centre hung an old-fashioned United States flag, now riddled with bullets. Gunfire rippled along the defensive position, filling the street with bullets in the vain hope of holding off the attackers. Armoured cars stopped a short distance away and opened fire with machine guns and automatic cannon fire. Behind them came multiple trucks, all of which halted to deposit their cargos.
“Move in!” Heer Hauptmann called out as he dismounted from his head truck. Two large units of soldiers hurried to fan out, moving behind the scores of vehicles littering the highway. Lightly equipped with winter kit and webbing, the men wore lightweight body armour on their torso and upper limbs. The camouflage pattern of white and black made them difficult to spot, especially in the storm. Bullets thudded around them, yet their skill and training showed through. They gave away little of their positions and made it to within fifty metres before they were remotely visible.
A short fusillade of fire ripped along the abandoned cars. In response the Reich soldiers hurled dozens of grenades. They sailed through the air and scattered around the barricade. Bang after bang marked their arrival, blasting holes in the defences, and hitting the dark shapes hidden behind them.
“Covering fire!”
The two units of infantry poured on automatic weapons fire to pin down anybody left. It was far from subtle, yet did the job. The relentless defensive fire had dropped to a minor fraction, yet still some refused to give up. The Hauptmann looked back from his position behind an overturned truck and waved his arm. On command, the roar of engines filled the frozen wilderness. To anybody left on the defences, the sight of the three Henschel E-80 Super Tiger heavy tanks must have broken their will to fight in an instant. The heavy machines pushed through the pitiful barricade across the highway and crashed down onto the other side.
“Follow them in!”
Several improvised charges detonated, but the tanks took the brunt of the attack. One lost three track guard plates yet continued onwards like some great metal beast. Gunfire slammed into the tanks, but did little more dent the thick composite armour. Some heavy shells and grenades hit the ground, hurling snow and dirt across their armour. Then they opened fire at point-blank range, and the last gasp of the defenders was obliterated. Scores of soldiers spread out to protect the tanks from hidden enemy soldiers, and proceeded to blast their way clear; more followed behind and then spread out.
From his position two hundred metres away, Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge leant back and stretched out in the six-wheeled Mercedes command car. The name was something of a misnomer, the machine more like a command truck than a car. It was fully sealed and enclosed from front to back. It housed a compact room packed with communications equipment, displays, and a small cadre of officers. He observed the progress of his units on the tactical screen installed inside the vehicle, nodding with satisfaction at their progress.
“Excellent. We are on schedule.”
Opposite him, standing before the mapping table was an overweight, yet alert Heer officer. He pointed at the units moving around the city.
“We’re making very good progress, Generalleutnant. At this rate, we could be at the gates of Baltimore in time to demand their surrender before the sun sets.
Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge looked less than impressed.
“Don’t be so confident, my friend. These insurgents have been under our yolk for decades, and it would appear they have picked up some of our skills and surprises along the way. We will advance carefully and methodically, wiping out resistance wherever we find it.”
Generalmajor Schmidt lowered his head, feeling perhaps a little chastened.
“Of course, Generalleutnant.”
As if to emphasise this possible danger, a missile of some design screamed overhead. Air defences cut it down further back. The wreckage crashed into the suburbs with a bright flash. Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge had perhaps the most comfortable vehicle in the Army, but even that had a rough time climbing over what remained of the defences around the city, the broken and twisted metal. As it reached the top, it slid down the other side and next to a group of Heer soldiers. The command car stopped for a second, and a pair of officers appeared to his left. He activated the armoured flap that functioned as extra protection in front of the window. It revealed the two Wehrmacht men, as well as the interior of the vehicle to the howling winds and snow. Cold air blasted inside, powerful enough to make him gasp.
“General. Resistance in Alexandria has been broken. This was the last barricade on the main street. It’s clear now through the city.”
“Excellent work, fine work indeed.”
He paused, letting the news sink in for. The SS had been fighting the rebels in this area for days, and it gave him much satisfaction that victory had come to the Army, and not the lackeys of the politicians.
“Do we have prisoners?”
The nearest officer answered.
“No, Generalleutnant. The SS were not quick enough in the pursuit, and our own forces have been mopping up throughout Alexandria. The enemy had time to set up a good number of barricades and traps to slow our progress. Best we can tell they are falling back through the radiated ruins of the old capital.”
“I see,” said the Generalleutnant while checking his maps. He could see the main routes up to New York, as well as the approximate current positions of his advancing forces.
“How many men are we talking about?”
The officer shrugged.
“Unknown, but they kept an entire kompanie of SS busy for nearly a week. They say the unit is led by the man that killed Standartenführer Müller at Columbus Circle.”
That instantly piqued his interest.
“Müller? Then this must be the man going by the ridiculous name, Iron Viper. Yes?”
The Wehrmacht officer nodded.
“That’s what we’ve heard. If what they say is true, he’s responsible for more than a hundred casualties. He’s also managed to recruit most
of the neighbourhoods to the fight.”
The Generalleutnant looked to his officers, and Generalmajor Schmidt spoke, though after making sure none of the others wished to speak first.
“This is an opportunity,” he said with firm conviction in his voice, “This man is something of an enigma. I spoke with some of the junior ranks last night before we left. All I heard about was this man, and the impossible things he’s achieved.”
“You don’t believe the stories?”
Generalmajor Schmidt shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. The men believe it, and from what I’ve heard, so do most of the civilians in several of the states between here and New York. Somebody has been rallying them to fight against the Reich, and it can’t be just the Kriegsmarine deserters.”
He almost spat the words out, and the Generalleutnant knew that once more the Reich’s greatest strength and weakness was being exhibited; so many organisations and structures, all vying for the approval of the Chancellery. He rubbed his chin and then slid his hand across the display.
“Excellent work. Pull out all your forces from this place immediately. You will join the primary assault on Washington itself.”
Everyone paused in a moment of stunned disbelief.
“Generalleutnant? We still have many stragglers and pockets of resistance to…”
“You heard me, soldat. I was not asking for a discussion. I want action. This place was a diversion, to give this viper time to escape.”
He looked to the others inside while nodding to himself.
“He hopes to hold us here while he falls back to Baltimore. That’s not going happen, though. The mission has changed. I want everybody, and I mean, everybody heading to Washington.”
Generalmajor Schmidt pointed to the map, and to Washington.
“But Generalleutnant, isn’t the city off limits?”
The Luftwaffe senior officer guffawed in amusement. When Generalmajor Schmidt looked across to him, it was obvious he didn’t dare joke.
“The city has been safe for several decades now. We know it, and so do these rebels.”
“It’s true,” agreed the Generalleutnant, “Your point is well made, Generalmajor. The carcass of Washington is to be preserved as a monument to the end of the War. Its atomic destruction spared millions of lives. And now we will do the same with these rebels.”
He nodded once more.
“We’ll pin him there and end this war without needing a siege.”
He leant out and pointed ahead.
“We march north, and we’ll find and destroy this Iron Viper, once and for all. Then, and only then, do we take Manhattan and the prize.”
He wound up the window and watched the columns of trucks and armoured vehicles continue along the autobahn. The officers chatted furiously as they began passing on more detailed orders to the myriad of units heading towards the rebels. The command car began moving again, but the Generalleutnant called out.
“Driver, wait a moment. I want to see this.”
The vehicle slowed with the front wheels slightly raised on top of the heaped snow. One by one the vehicles pushed past, with the tracked armoured personnel carriers of the Heer having little difficulty with the obstruction. Every now and then a platoon of tanks thundered past, but he wanted to see the landships the most. Finally, they came, and he grinned from ear to ear as they marched onwards. They were painted in winter camouflage patterns and carried standard Army insignia. He counted them until eight had passed him.
“Eight Victoria Class landships,” he said quietly, “Nothing can stand up against them, not even the traitor Kriegsmarine and their Eiserner Gott.”
“Drive on.”
The wheels spun for a second until the chains bit into the ice and snow. Four armoured cars remained close by, keeping a careful watch over their commander. Generalleutnant Curt von Kluge pressed the buttons on the mapping equipment fitted in his car and looked to his adjutant, who until now had been silent.
“Send my revised orders to SS-Oberführer Erwin. It’s critical that his forces advance north and cross the Anacostia River to the North East of the city.”
He pointed the map and the area immediately above Alexandria.
“He will extend his lines to stop any of these rebels from escaping.”
“Yes, Generalleutnant.”
“And we will march on and hit the city from the south. The few pitiful units under the command of this Iron Viper will have no choice but to surrender, or die in the ruins of Washington.”
* * *
The West End, Washington D.C.
An explosion tore through the wall at their backs as Ray and Gerry rushed into the remains of a cafeteria. The roof of the weakened structure creaked and began to cave in.
“Oh, shit!” Ray yelled.
They picked up the pace and spotted a hole in the wall of the next shop, leaping through it as the café collapsed behind them. They had to jump, landing face first as a cloud of dust and debris passed over them and filled their nostrils. They gasped for air and coughed as they got back up, staggering to find cleaner air.
“This is shit.”
“You can say that again, Gerry.”
“How much longer do we have to put up with this?”
“As long as we can. Every extra minute we can give Woody and Marcus to prepare for this will make a difference.”
“You better hope they are ready when we get there.”
“I don’t need to hope. I want you to go on. Take Hugo with you, and rendezvous with the others at Capitol Hill.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No, but we must liaise with the others, and you are the man for it. Go on ahead, and make sure the trap is set for when we get there.”
“If this goes on much longer, you won’t make it at all.”
“We’ll be fine. Trust me. I need you there. I need to know things will go as planned. Can you do this for me?”
“Of course, and good luck to you,” he said, patting Ray on the shoulder.
Without another word, he was off. The truth was Ray didn’t want to lose him right then, but it would all be for nothing if what they were heading towards wasn’t done right. He went to the front of the shop. His people were laying down fire down the street as they slowly fell back. The withdrawal was a brutal meatgrinder. A burst of fire struck the road ahead, and Lisa crashed through a broken window. She landed hard, but rolled onto her feet as if with no concern at all.
“It’s getting pretty hot out there!”
“No doubt, but we have to keep this up for as long as we can.”
A scream rang out. A man on the far side of the road was hit by two shots and went down. Doug and Will, fighting alongside one another, hauled him into cover.
“At this rate we won’t even make it to the Hill,” she complained.
The gunfire was increasing in intensity, but they could also hear vehicles approaching. Three Strykers soared down the road towards them. They were open topped, but with armour plates on front and side. Rounds bounced from their armour, their mounted machine guns returning fire from the cover of thick mantlet-like shields. Other MG3s fitted on post mounts in the back of the vehicles allowed gunners to strafe the buildings as they passed by.
“We’re all out of Panzerfausts,” she said.
Ray was painfully aware of that fact. He rushed into a nearby alleyway to look for anything they could use. There was the wreckage of an old pickup truck. It hadn’t run since the bombing of the city, but it was still on its rubber.
“What are you doing?” Roy asked, rushing to the alleyway to help.
“Come on, give me a hand!”
They got behind the truck and tried to move it, but Lisa and Ray didn’t stand a chance. Roy got behind it, and with one large heave it was in motion. He was a bull of a man and twice Ray’s strength.
“Push!” Ray shouted.
They were picking up speed as they rolled out into the street. The timing could not h
ave been better. The lead Stryker swerved to avoid the wreckage, but it was too late. It clipped the front wing, and the high-sided armoured vehicle tumbled into a spin. It rolled over the wreckage and continued down the street. The three of them ducked back for cover as the second Stryker slammed on its brakes and ploughed into the truck, almost snapping it in half. The third Stryker had come to a safe halt, but two Molotovs rained down on it before the driver could get moving again.
The occupants of the one remaining Stryker looked stunned, and Roy took his chance. He leapt up onto the back of the vehicle, punching the rear gunner so hard in the face he was knocked unconscious. He emptied a magazine into the driver and commander. The scene was quiet for a moment, and Ray slung his rifle onto his back. He leapt up onto the vehicle beside Roy and took up the MG3 mounted in the rear. He took aim at the enemy closing down the street towards them and opened fire. The fixed mounting gave supreme control and accuracy, and he cut down half a dozen in the first burst as others ran for cover.
He fired long bursts and kept them down, killing several more as they tried to step out from cover. A truck appeared well in the distance to bring more troops. He pivoted the gun around to it and fired. A hundred rounds smashed into the vehicle and tore it apart. The troops in the back clambered out, many struck before they could hit the ground. The magazine ran empty, and the barrel was steaming. Shots landed around him, several striking the armour of the vehicle.
“Come on!” Lisa shouted to him.
The weapon was too useful to leave behind. He opened the breech and pulled open an ammo box to feed in another belt. He was about to close the breech when a burst of fire hit the vehicle, and a round went through his left arm. He fell back slightly in shock, letting out the slightest of cries before overcoming the pain. He locked the breech down and lifted the weapon from its mounting, leaping from the vehicle as bullets landed too close for comfort. He moved to the front of the vehicle for cover and cocked the weapon.
“Are you crazy?” Lisa shouted from the cover of a derelict car.
“We’d have to be to be here, right?” he responded with a smile.
Soldiers of Tomorrow: The Winter War Page 18
