1920: America's Great War

by Robert Conroy

  “I’m sorry,” he said lamely. A scolding from a three-star general he could endure. Kirsten’s wrath, never.

  “You almost made me a widow a second time and we’re not even married yet.”

  “Do you want to marry me?”

  “Yes, but not until after this is over.”

  “And why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  “Because they don’t need me right now. There’s been an influx of trained personnel from up north, so now I’m back to being a clerk, cataloging the wounded and trying to notify their families. It’s important, sometimes even heartbreaking, but it can wait a few hours.”

  She had taken his arm and was steering him away from the Presidio. “Where are we going?”

  “To the apartment. You can clean up, get fed, and I’ll let you play with the dog and cat.”

  Luke leaned against her. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Still, he grinned. “Can I play with their owner?”

  * * *

  The long line of trains from American occupied Monterrey moved slowly through northern Mexico and then into Arizona where they linked up with the rail lines heading to San Diego and Los Angeles. They moved slowly because not all Mexicans agreed with their new government’s decision to allow the American Army access to their trains and railway system. Isolated pockets of Carranza’s men still remained and, allied with small German units, disrupted the American advance by blowing up tracks. Some of the officers and men on the trains referred to the trains as long, slow targets. Others thought of worse names as they waited for the tracks to be repaired by the repairmen they’d brought with them.

  Marcus Tovey had originally thought he’d remain in Mexico as part of the shrinking garrison that occupied Monterrey. The city was hostage to Mexican good intentions and, so far, the Obregon government had given every indication that it was going to obey the new rules.

  It had been somewhat of a surprise when Lejeune had selected Tovey’s force to accompany the First Marine Division on its journey to southern California. Lejeune had laughingly informed Tovey that he considered the Texas Ranger and his men to be worthwhile additions to his force. “You people are damned good fighters. Almost good enough to be U.S. Marines,” he’d added.

  Other caravans of trains were forming and several Army divisions under Pershing were almost ready to move west. It would be a long, slow process, however. Whatever was going to happen to San Francisco would be long over before any substantial American relief force from the south could get near the place.

  The train lurched to a halt and the men spilled out, their rifles at the ready. In the distance they could hear the snap of rifle fire and the chatter of machine guns. Someone was taking a stand near where the right of way narrowed as it went though a canyon.

  The Texas Brigade was on the fourth train, which meant it was a long ways from the action. A number of horses were in a car a few back. Tovey grabbed one and rode bareback towards the front. It felt good to be mounted. Hell, he was a Texas Ranger and belonged on a horse. He trotted forward past several long trains and hundreds of dismounting men. It was obvious that something serious was happening.

  General Lejeune spotted Tovey. “Germans are to our front. Goddamned Krauts have taken over from the greasers and are blocking the road. Worse, it looks like a solid regiment. I’ve ordered an immediate attack.”

  The rail line ran through a notch bordered by rugged hills. The Germans were at the top. Their trenches were scars on the hillside and they were firing down at probing Marine units. Nothing was going to move down that rail line until the Germans were kicked out.

  Tovey watched with growing dismay as lines of Marines moved toward the hastily dug-in Germans. He wanted to remind Lejeune that the Germans were a whole lot different from the Mexicans, but, hell, the general already knew that, didn’t he? And what did Tovey know about fighting Krauts? The only ones he’d seen were along the Rio Grande and at a distance. The Marines really knew only one way to fight—attack. The time spent on the defensive outside San Antonio had irked them. They wanted to bring the fight to the enemy and now they were doing it.

  The Americans advanced in orderly waves, but the orderliness didn’t last very long. Bullets ripped through them and machine guns cut them down like wheat. Some men fell in neat rows. Tovey could almost hear sergeants and officers screaming for the men to advance, keep advancing. The only way to safety, they yelled, was to kill the Germans. German light artillery, their 75mm cannon and some light mortars, dropped shells into the Marines causing more carnage.

  The Marines stopped advancing and began to dig in, using anything to protect themselves from the scything fury of the German guns. Tovey glanced at Lejeune, who was pale with anger and frustration. He’d made a mistake and his Marines were paying for it.

  He turned away. “We’ll reinforce the men at night and attack again at dawn.”

  “It’ll be a bloodbath,” Tovey said. He wasn’t afraid of speaking his mind to the Marine general. Hell, when the war was over, he’d go back to being a Texas Ranger, not a soldier. “General, you’ve read your history. It’s like the Spartans at Thermopylae. They can hold us at bay until they run out of ammunition or we run out of men.”

  “We outnumber them,” Lejeune said stubbornly.

  “But not by that much. If that’s a full regiment, and I think it is, that’s maybe three thousand men and not three hundred like the Spartans had. We’ve got about twelve thousand, and not the half million the Persians had. I’ll bet we lost five hundred men in today’s attack and the Krauts not one tenth of that.”

  “How the hell do you know so much about ancient history?”

  Tovey grinned. “I may be a dumb-ass Texan but I’m a dumb-ass Texan who knows how to read.”

  Several of Lejeune’s aides had moved away, waiting for the general to explode. It didn’t happen. “What do you suggest?” Lejeune asked softly.

  “The Persians found a way around the Spartans and slaughtered them. That’s what we have to do. Keep their heads down by shooting at them and pretending to attack and find a way around this mess.”

  “All right, Tovey, you’ve got all night to find me a way. But I still attack tomorrow. We can’t stay here until the Krauts decide to let us pass.”

  * * *

  The woman entered Tovey’s tent accompanied by a lieutenant who was waved out. She was light olive-skinned and petite. There was anger in her eyes. He decided she looked more Spanish than Mexican. If it wasn’t for the anger, she might be very pretty.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Martina Flores and I want to help you.”

  “Why?”

  “To hurt the Germans who caused all this. My husband was killed by Carranza’s men and I was held captive by the Germans and some American collaborators. They first took my husband and then took my pride. They kept me prisoner and their slave until I escaped and helped free some American prisoners. Then I returned here.”

  Tovey nodded. American collaborators? Well, he supposed it was inevitable. Someone would always kiss the ass of the new playground bully. When they were caught they would hang, but first they had to be caught. And what did she mean by taking her pride? He thought he knew and decided not to ask. And what about free American prisoners?

  She looked at him eagerly. “I grew up around here and know the area. I had family on both sides of the border. I can find you a path around the Germans.”

  “And how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

  She shrugged. “I will have to go with you to show the path to you. If it’s a trap, you can shoot me.”

  “Fair enough,” Tovey said and went off to find Lejeune.

  Two hours later, the column of Texans snaked its way south of the now stalled fighting and around the German lines. Dressed in men’s clothing, Martina guided them along a path that was barely fit for goats. Tovey now had no doubts as to the truth of her tale.

  Slowly and carefully, they marched through the night. A couple of me
n were injured falling down the almost mountainous terrain. Martina was exhausted but didn’t complain. Once, she stumbled and he grabbed her arm to steady her and she ripped it from his grasp.

  She glared at him and then softened. “I’m sorry. You meant well. It’s just that I’m not used to kindness yet.”

  Dawn found them approaching a compound of several dozen tents. It was a supply depot for the troops defending the hill. Wagons and trucks were parked nearby and there were some more of their damned cannon. The men in the compound were facing the hills and didn’t notice the Texans approaching from the wrong direction.

  On the other side of the hill, American and German artillery were dueling and they could hear rifle fire. Lejeune said he’d attack at dawn whether Tovey made it or not. Son of a bitch, Tovey thought, it was time to get moving. He noticed that Martina’s eyes glowed with a near-maniacal fury.

  Tovey ordered his men forward at a steady run. The Germans continued looking ahead and not behind. They didn’t turn and see them until the Texans were almost on them. Screaming and howling, the Texans tore through the camp, shooting and killing as they went. Scores of Germans surrendered, while others ran in all direction.

  “Up the hill,” Tovey ordered. Now they would take the main German lines in the rear.

  They didn’t have to. Within minutes, German soldiers began to withdraw from their trenches and pour over the crest. They’d heard the fighting behind them and could see that their camp had fallen. The American Army was both in front and behind them and it was time to get the hell out of this place.

  The Texans took up firing positions and now it was the Germans’ turn to die. Out in the open, Tovey’s men cut them down by the scores and then by the hundreds. Advancing Marines appeared over the crest line and joined in the slaughter. German soldiers began throwing down their weapons and holding their arms up high.

  Tovey walked over and looked at the vaunted German soldiers. It was the first he’d seen them up close. Their field gray uniforms looked like they were good camouflage and their coal scuttle helmets looked like good protection. They appeared to be good soldiers, but not superhuman like people said they were. They bled and died like ordinary men. The ones who were trying to surrender looked terrified and some were crying, although a number looked furious. Their generals had betrayed them.

  Lejeune found him. “Well done, Marcus. This is one Kraut regiment that won’t pester us again.” Then he shook his head sadly. “I just wish it hadn’t cost us six hundred men to do it.”

  He found Martina staring at the carnage. The fury was gone from her eyes, now replaced by deep sadness. At first she’d wanted to accompany him on the attack and he’d threatened to use force to stop her. She’d relented and stayed behind, just not too far behind. He wanted to comfort her, but remembered how she’d recoiled from his inadvertent touch before.

  “Enough killing,” she said softly. She turned and put her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and held her as she shuddered. “Where are you going now?” she asked.

  “On to southern California. We’ll visit San Diego and maybe Los Angeles.”

  “Then I will go with you, at least part of the way. I need to see some people and make sure they’re okay.”

  Lejeune said, “We’ll be heading that way, but we’ll be walking.”

  Tovey looked down the line. The tracks had been ripped up as far as he could see.

  * * *

  Was there anything more majestic than a German battleship? thought the crown prince. Given his birthright as the Kaiser’s heir, he’d been on a number of them, but this was his first trip to a glorious monster like the Bayern, the flagship of the mighty German Pacific Fleet.

  The Bayern was truly imposing. She displaced thirty-two thousand tons and her main armament was eight fifteen-inch guns in four turrets. They were larger than anything the Americans had and only equaled by the Royal Navy’s Queen Elizabeth class battleships.

  Her secondary battery consisted of sixteen 5.9-inch guns and a multitude of smaller guns and a handful of torpedo turrets. She could steam eight thousand nautical miles without refueling and do so at twenty-two knots. Many cars, he thought, could not achieve that speed. She and her three sister ships, the Baden, Sachsen, and Wurttemberg, were the mightiest ships in the German Navy. Only the Bayern was off California. The others remained in Germany.

  The prince carefully climbed the stairway to the deck. A stumble would not do for the imperial dignity and, despite calm seas, the massive ship was moving slightly. He was greeted by Admiral Hipper and Admiral Trotha. The ubiquitous Captain Canaris stood behind Hipper. The prince reviewed the immaculately uniformed crew and then the men retreated to Hipper’s quarters for lunch, brandy, and cigars. The prince found himself wistfully thinking that it would be wonderful to have such a movable fort on land. He mentioned it to the two admirals who chuckled.

  “We could build it,” Hipper said cheerfully, “but how in God’s name would we ever move it?”

  Hipper gave an almost invisible signal and Trotha departed, leaving him alone with the prince. “Sir, I am honored that you came.”

  “And I am honored by the invitation. Your ship is truly marvelous.”

  “Indeed, sir, but neither she nor her sisters have yet accomplished a thing. I know that blockade work is essential, but it is anticlimactic, boring, and does nothing for the reputation of Germany’s newest weapon, her mighty fleet.”

  The prince sighed. He had expected this. “I assume you wish to share in the final assault.”

  “Sir, our honor demands it. I have brought four minesweepers to clear the channel. All I need from you is the date and time of your attack and my fleet will blast its way into San Francisco Bay. When the Americans realize they are being assaulted by land and sea, they will panic and resistance will crumble.”

  “You will lose some of your ships,” Wilhelm said quietly.

  “As you will lose men, sir.”

  The prince frowned. The German Army had suffered another ten thousand casualties storming the American’s second line. Intelligence said that the Yank third line was the most formidable and was where what machine guns and artillery they had were massed. He was confident he could carry it, but at what price? Anything the Navy could do to make his job less bloody would be welcomed.

  There were other factors, political factors, affecting the admiral’s request to be included in the fighting. Germany’s reputation was that of a land power and the proud German Navy was a new and basically untried force. Worse, it hadn’t accomplished much in the 1914 war and very little in this fight. Modern ships were exorbitantly expensive and the money men in Berlin were questioning the new navy’s usefulness in a modern war. Hipper and the other admirals feared that their navy might be relegated to a secondary force, and they had good reason to worry. No new capital ships had been launched in three years. Wait and see was Berlin’s attitude, while the generals sat back and smirked. A joint victory by the German Army and Navy would ensure that more warships joined the navy.

  “And what of the American battleships, Admiral? The Nevada is doubtless joining her sisters, thus constituting a serious fleet in being.”

  To the German command’s dismay, the Nevada had somehow been refueled and rearmed. It was presumed from smuggled supplies and another useless protest would be lodged with the British.

  The Nevada had emerged from the night and bulled her way past the destroyers and light cruisers loosely blockading Puget Sound. One destroyer had been sunk and a cruiser damaged with no apparent harm to the Nevada.

  “The Americans have three battleships at sea,” said Hipper, “whilst we have ten. I am not concerned about them. In fact, let them come and do battle instead of attacking convoys. They are wretched cowards,” he sniffed.

  Hipper exuded confidence, but he couldn’t quite hide his lingering doubts. Even though the American force would be smaller in numbers, it would still be quite formidable. The Bayern was the only German battleship wi
th fifteen-inch guns. The others had twelve-inch batteries, with the exception of the Nassau and Posen, which only had eleven-inch main guns. The three American battleships all had fourteen-inch weapons. The Bayern could sink any one of them, but what if she was attacked by two or by all three?

  Hipper had decided that would keep his battleships together so the smaller American force could be overwhelmed. And why the devil hadn’t the kaiser permitted at least one other of the Bayern’s sisters to accompany her, or even some of the lighter battlecruisers that had cost so much and accomplished so little? The majority of the German High Seas Fleet had stayed at home, left to stare at the Royal Navy.

  Prudently, Hipper had ordered all convoys to remain in Cam Ranh Bay until the Americans had been destroyed.

  Hipper continued. “As I understand it, sir, your attack will be with a degree of urgency. Haven’t the Americans broken through in the south?”

  The prince sighed. “They have, but not in great numbers and they are five hundred miles away. I made a mistake, Admiral. I assigned an inexperienced general and an inexperienced regiment to guard the southern approach as replacements for the duplicitous Mexicans. Their commander was ordered to avoid a full battle. He was told to nibble at them as they had nibbled at us in our advance northward. He was to keep between them and their target, whether it was San Diego or the Central Valley. But no, the fool decided to make a heroic stand against a much larger American force. He lost half his men and, fortunately for him, his life. Thank God the senior surviving officer, a major named Rommel, had the presence of mind to continue destroying the railroad tracks as he and the remnants of the regiment fled north. The Yanks will be delayed for some time.”

  “A shame, but mistakes do happen,” Hipper said. “Trotha is still cursing himself for letting the Americans escape from Puget Sound.”