“1st Platoon, advance to the museum perimeter. 2nd Platoon, secure the flanks. Engineers, clear the path. We end this…today.”
The Naval soldiers spread out as they’d been trained, watching for signs of hidden enemy troops and booby-traps. Kapitän Klenner watched with satisfaction as two squads of engineers detonated explosive charges, tearing apart the last abandoned fortifications hastily erected by the British in the last week. Something screamed overhead, a trio of Luftwaffe jet bombers. The three aircraft left contrails behind them, a reminder of the total air superiority enjoyed by the Reich.
“Herr Kapitän, the street is clear,” said Leutnant Waldemar.
“Good work, Leutnant. Send in your men. We advance on the museum.”
“Jawohl!”
The squads of armoured marines broke through the shattered wall and fencing, advancing inside. The open courtyard was empty of enemy troops, save for a burnt-out tank. Heaps of rubble was all that remained of the façade, the fourteen-metre-high columns smashed into broken heaps on the ground. Beyond lay the gleaming reading room; a tall, cylindrical, tower like structure that rose from the ashes, resembling some ancient fortress. The metal and glass ceiling lay twisted and shattered around it, offering some protection from above.
“There…we’re almost there.”
Two flags fluttered over the structure, and just seeing the bright colours of rebellion sent a shiver through his body. The Englanders were not the real enemies of the Reich, and it pained him to fight his brothers in Britain. Many of their kin had been freed following the Reich victories in the Mediterranean, and they’d proven to be some of the most steadfast recruits in the Reich army divisions. Yet none of those units were present for the invasion of Britain. Not even the new Reich Führer would dare take that gamble. He pulled the intercom from the ceiling of the clanking beast.
“This is Kapitän Klenner. I’m in position facing the enemy fortification at the British Museum. I have located the British High Command’s convoy, and I have the position surrounded. Requesting orders.”
The delay was short, but the harsh voice of regional command made him sit upright.
“Your orders are clear, Kapitän. Sanitise the area. No survivors.”
He felt a churning in his gut.
“Command, please confirm. We have a chance…”
“Negative. Complete your mission, or wait for Obersturmführer Schneider to take over the attack. His Waffen SS units are four kilometres away. They will finish what you cannot…if that is your choice, Kapitän.”
Just mentioning the dreaded Waffen SS sent a surge of distaste through his body. Decades of neglect had eroded the strength of the regular army, navy, and air force units that comprised the Wehrmacht, while the Waffen SS units continued to flourish. They were the golden boys of the Reich military, yet they lacked the honour and professionalism that still existed in every arm of the military.
“Contact!” Oberleutnant Preston yelled, “Enemy armour entrenched near the fortification. They are about to counterattack.”
Klenner kept his eyes fixed firmly on the view through the forward periscope while he listened. There was a large ring of periscopes fitted beneath the chin of Eiserner Gott, giving him a clear view of the battlefield. From this raised position, Klenner overlooked the ruined buildings, and could even see into some of the trenches in use by the remnants of the British military. The flags continued to fly, and they resembled burnt rags, all of them punctured with bullet holes. As he looked, men and women, most armed with rifles, rushed out and took cover amid the rubble.
“I see them,” he said calmly, “Gunners, target their defences. Fire at will.”
He flinched as more bullets struck the upper hull armour. Riflemen were hidden in the rubble throughout the wrecked museum, and he suspected the tall reading room was just a distraction. What concerned him most was the entrenched tank, half buried under concrete. The British had lost their more advanced munitions months ago, but these antique weapons could still cause him trouble. Eiserner Gott shuddered as the two arm-mounted, massively modified L3 snub-barrelled 150mm cannons opened fire. They were short and looked more like siege-mortars than guns. The experimental E100 tank in ‘48, the precursors to the even bigger E1000 series and its variants, had been the first to carry the powerful weapons. The guns sent high-explosive shells into the broken masonry, kicking up bright explosions that filled the area with smoke, flame, and noise.
“Confirmed hits. Wait…the tank…it is moving. I think it’s a…”
Kapitän Klenner interrupted him. He had little interest in the model of the tank. His priority was to stay alive.
“Use the secondary guns. Do not let it open fire.”
The smaller shoulder-mounted howitzers were designed for fire-support and slaved in a dual mount to work together. Though not ideally suited for use against armour, they were more than enough to deal with an old machine like the tank before them.
“It’s targeting us. Driver, evasive action!”
An alarm sounded inside Eiserner Gott as the driver directed reserve power from the diesel generators and batteries to the legs. The machine lurched to the left just as the tank’s gun fired. A large calibre shell hurtled towards the walking machine. Three articulated amour plates and an entire section of mesh tore off and crashed to the ground.
“Firing!” said the first gunner.
Eiserner Gott shuddered as the ordnance left the muzzles, and before the British crew could react, both howitzers rained explosive shells onto the hull, destroying it with ease.
“Damage report!”
Oberleutnant Preston, the landship’s first officer, sighed with relief.
“Just minor damage. That was close.”
Then he spotted the laden figures moving in around them.
“More enemy infantry closing in with detonation charges. I can see a second group trying to flank us.”
Klenner glanced to the left and saw the figures surging towards the Kriegsmarine infantry. Two explosions erupted, though he had no idea if they were using suicide weapons, or if it was merely grenades.
“Sir, they’re close!
“Yes. Deploy the shields. Gunners, drive them away. Protect Eiserner Gott at all costs.”
The order was unnecessary. Even as he said the words, he heard the chatter of the guns. Eiserner Gott like all armoured vehicles was vulnerable to being swamped by infantry, and her designers had made certain every angle of approach was well protected by machine guns. The shields were simple devices, large metal shutters that could be lowered to protect the legs. A hurricane of gunfire and smoke enveloped the machine, and when his vision returned, Kapitän Klenner observed the surviving enemy soldiers in full retreat as they tried to get away from the devastating gunfire.
“Excellent work, men. Once again, Eiserner Gott drives them away like frightened rabbits.”
The small group of men cheered, although the Kapitän understood not all of their hearts were in it. The war had been going on for so long and casualties so high, few of the original crew remained. The current crewmen of Eiserner Gott were truly multinational, and no more than a third native Germans. Kapitän Klenner was from the old city of Hamburg, and came from a long line of Naval officers. The rest were an odd mixture of Vichy French, Hungarians, and Austrians. Unusually for a landship unit, he also carried an English Leutnant named John Preston, a veteran who’d fought in Afrika over a decade earlier; a war in which the landships had seen much service.
“Driver, move in close.”
The men of the Kriegsmarine were surging ahead, moving over the broken steps and into the museum proper. Gunfire peppered the ground around them, but the last few defenders could put up no more than light resistance. Klenner almost felt sorry for them as his armoured troopers cut their way inside.
“It will be over in seconds.”
“Uh…Kapitän!”
He stared in the direction John Preston was pointing.
“What is it?”
>
“The building…it is moving.”
“Driver, halt.”
Eiserner Gott came to a halt; its multiple diesel engines still rumbled away to power the electrical systems and recharge the reserve battery packs. The fighting in the museum reached a crescendo as both sides fought for the last few hundred metres. Waffen SS armoured units were already coming in from the North, and Wehrmacht regulars were moving through the remainder of the city. And then the unthinkable happened.
“Verdammt!”
The tall cylindrical building collapsed, and inside the centre of the remains there appeared an even bigger machine than Eiserner Gott. It rose up and stretched out its limbs, and began taking giant steps. The body was crude in shape but still it moved relatively quickly. Machine guns on the lower sponsons opened fire, cutting down the Kriegsmarine soldiers. As it stepped out into the light, Klenner gasped.
“My God, I don’t believe!”
Rockets spewed out from hidden tubes, and for a few seconds the machine appeared to be about to charge in a frenzied frontal attack. The legs were reversed, like those of a goat, and the hull little larger than a heavy tank. It carried both guns and racks filled with rockets. Klenner was so surprised the machine made it halfway towards him before he was able to react.
“Driver, circle that monster. Gunners, aim for the legs. Move shields to the front. We have to disable that thing. We’ll need to examine it when the battle is over.”
The first barrage of rockets slammed into the front of Eiserner Gott, blinding them temporarily. When the dust had cleared, the machine was gone, leaving a trail of Kriegsmarine bodies behind it.
“What was it?” asked a gunner.
“You fool,” Klenner snapped, “Can’t you see? The Englanders have constructed a landship. What a futile endeavour!”
He snorted.
“Gunners, load high-velocity armour piercing rounds into all guns.”
“It’s behind us!”
At the shout, Klenner spun the viewing periscopes around. The machine was in their rear quarter, half hidden behind three broken columns, and firing rockets once again.
“Bring us around! Hurry!”
The lumbering landship turned slowly, but before they could aim their weapons and fire, the next barrage slammed into the machine. The rockets hit one after the other, destroying the shoulder-mounted howitzers, and triggering fires along one flank of the landship.
“Vehicles are escaping, Kapitän!” Preston said.
Three small automobiles were skidding away from the museum. They were moving too fast for him to give chase.
“Ignore them, concentrate on that machine!”
They’d turned the landship to face the walker. Painted in standard army green, the machine was clearly armed with many components and ground turrets commonly used by the British. It was impressive, if hastily built, and undoubtedly based on captured Reich designs. It moved to the side but was then hit by something from the right. Three more shells struck the enemy machine, badly damaging a leg.
“Tanks!” Leutnant Preston yelled.
Klenner sighed with relief as he spotted a heavy tank platoon coming in from the West. The machines were covered in camouflage netting, and carrying a dozen soldiers on their upper structures. A large red flag displaying the dreaded cross of the regime hung from the first. Klenner recognised the shape of the E-80, commonly known as the Super Tiger. The standard front-line machine of the Reich, the tank was more than a match for anything in use by the British. His exhilaration faded when he recognised the markings and insignia of the infamous junior company officer, Hans Schneider. Also known as the Butcher of Paris.
“It’s Obersturmführer Schneider. He arrives with his platoon of Tigers just in time, as always.”
But to all their surprise, the damaged walking tank swivelled its weapons, and loosed off a further volley of rockets. They hammered into the thick armour plating of the tank and it exploded. It shouldn’t have been possible, yet somehow the rockets burst inside the vehicle, setting off a massive denotation that could be felt even inside Eiserner Gott. Small guns opened up, punching further holes into the armour of the burning tank before it turned its attention to the next tank in line. The E-80 was a tough machine, but utterly outclassed by the armoured monster lumbering about the ruins.
Still, the Obersturmführer bought me some time, if nothing else.
He had little sympathy for the men of Schneider’s unit. He’d heard the rumours of their cruel brutality and wanted nothing to do with them. They were the Reich’s rotten underbelly, something he always hoped to avoid contact with.
“Fire at will!”
The gunner stamped on the trigger, but the main gun misfired. A flash ripped through the upper deck, killing him outright and knocking out the left gun and the loaders for the secondary guns. A chunk of metal flashed past, slicing Klenner’s face, and spraying blood on his Naval uniform.
“Driver, move closer. Machine gunners, fire on that thing!”
Eiserner Gott moved at a fast walk towards the British machine. It would have been almost comical to watch from outside as it strode ahead, its torso on fire, and long-armoured limbs swinging back and forth. It reached the machine just as the British responded. Two further rockets hit Eiserner Gott at the front, killing the remaining gunners, and pinning Kapitän Klenner to his seat.
“Driver, ram that thing! Bring up the arms and engage the blades.”
Eiserner Gott travelled the last few steps, lifting its arms high. Long sections of hardened steel pushed out like scythes. It was rare for the landships to use them, but this seemed to be the right moment. They crashed into the machine with such force the British walker flipped onto its back. The machine hit the ground hard and lay still, unable to move. But Eiserner Gott had also sustained catastrophic damage. The driver looked up at him, shaking his head.
“Arms and guns are non-functional.”
Movement off to the right attracted his eye. He glanced across as another of the E-80 heavy tanks ground its way along the street. At over a hundred tonnes it was overkill for this battle, yet that didn’t concern the Waffen SS crew. The tanks were a terrifying sight on the streets of London, and the gunners fired at anything that moved, slashing into the few remaining enemy soldiers trying to surrender. Klenner glanced back at the stricken enemy machine. The hatches were open and the crew running for their lives.
“Let them go. There’s been enough killing for today.”
The driver looked up at him.
“And the machine?”
“End it.”
With deft control, the driver brought up the left leg of Eiserner Gott, and in a swift movement stamped the iron foot on the torso of the enemy machine. The hull caved in like a broken egg, followed by a series of small explosions that ripped through the interior.
Klenner leant back in his seat and looked at his crew. Half were dead, and Eiserner Gott was badly damaged. Small fires burned inside and were growing larger by the second. It was obvious they were about to rage out of control.
“Everybody out, move it!”
He released his harness, extricating himself from the hull, and swung down from the short ladder before hitting the ground. The situation was more than dangerous as the battle still raged, and he whipped out his pistol as he raced away from the flames. Yet it was almost over. Around a dozen British soldiers and civilians were moving towards him. Several waved white flags, and at their flanks were the remnants of his Kriegsmarines. A paunchy British officer with a bandaged arm stepped forward.
“General Sir Thomas Jackson,” he announced.
Squads of Waffen SS soldiers swarmed into the complex, and Klenner glanced at them with as much wariness as he did the enemy. Sensing the violence about to erupt and anxious to contain it, he placed his pistol back in the holster and nodded to the Englander.
“Kapitän Klenner, 52nd Marine Attack Troop Company, Kriegsmarine.”
The Englander stared back at him, his eyes deep,
exhausted pits filled with tired resignation.
“As the senior surviving member of His Majesty’s armed forces, I offer our unconditional surrender.”
The man reached to his belt holster and withdrew his pistol. A moment of danger, but Klenner was too tired to be worried. He waited as the man reversed the weapon and handed it to him butt first.
“Thank you, General. On behalf of the Kriegsmarine, the Wehrmacht and the Reich, I accept your surrender.”
Both sides relaxed at the words, and when he looked to the side, Leutnant Preston was standing next to him.
“Kapitän, is it over?”
“Yes, Leutnant, the battle for London has ended. This insurrection…this mutiny is over at last.”
A Kriegsmarine officer removed his bulky armoured helmet and rubbed his sweat-covered face. Others did the same, and before long cheering echoed around the ruins. Even Klenner allowed himself a smile.
I can return home…finally.
The smile left his face when he spotted the sour-faced Waffen SS officer. The man’s expression betrayed his livid anger as he approached. An entire squad of his soldiers were with him, and it was easy to deduce the officer had murder on his mind. Behind him, three more E-80 heavy tanks had halted, their turrets constantly tracking as they searched for further signs of the enemy.
“Kapitän, what is this outrage?”
Kapitän Klenner stared back at him. He outranked the man significantly, but that seemed to mean nothing to the SS man. The Waffen SS were a law unto themselves, and considered the Schutzstaffel superior in every respect to all other military units and their officers. Regardless of rank.
“Obersturmführer Hans Schneider, how very nice to see you.”
Klenner lowered his head slightly in a polite gesture.
“Your platoon was of much use to us. I hope your casualties were not too severe.”
Soldiers of Tomorrow: Iron Legions Page 2
