Soldiers of Tomorrow: Iron Legions

by Michael G. Thomas

  “Check this place twice, and then twice again!”

  He was angry but also pumped up on the thrill of the chase. Müller pushed the body aside with his left boot and moved in closer. He could see the city layout, including the marked areas where attacks had taken place in the last few days. Then he spotted other marks, those places that had yet to be struck.

  “Oberscharführer!”

  The senior platoon leader moved in and saluted.

  “Yes, Standartenführer?”

  “Get all of this photographed and sent to headquarters. Notify Kriminaldirektor Mattias and Inspektor Miller of the Sicherheitspolizei. It would appear we have information on the rebels’ next series of targets.”

  “Jawohl!”

  The man began to move away, but Müller called him back.

  “Contact the Kriegsmarine and inform them that I am on the way. I want them all at their barracks and ready. They will be dealt with shortly.”

  There was a moment of hesitation, and then the man left. It was at that exact moment Müller spotted something else, something that sent adrenalin pumping through his body. He lifted a finger and ran it along the dotted line that showed the position of the sewer system.

  “Wait a moment. What have we here? Bowery Bay…”

  A wry smile spread across his lips.

  “Ah…perfect.”

  * * *

  “We’re getting reports of attacks against cells all across the city!” a panicked voice cried out.

  Lisa was listening in on a radio with several others, and from the look on her face it wasn’t good news. Before she could say a word, a news anchor appeared on the TV with scenes of carnage depicted in the background around him.

  “Landships bearing SS markings have massacred our people all over,” she whispered as the news story went on.

  “I’d like to welcome Mayor Finn to make an official statement.”

  The camera cut to a podium. The Mayor was standing before Nazi pageantry that made Ray feel sick to his stomach, but they all listened to what he had to say.

  “Recent attacks on the people of this city have terrorised the good citizens of New York. But thanks to the efforts of our law enforcement officers, the Kriegsmarine, and the officers of the Reich, the city remains a safe place. However, the threat level stays as high while these terrorists are dealt with in their entirety. As a result, from this moment forth, Martial Law is being declared. An act that will allow those who protect this city to do their job to the best of their ability. Additionally, it is my pleasure to announce the Thanksgiving Grand Parade, which will culminate in the public execution of those traitors to the Reich that we have so far captured. Thank you all, stay vigilant.”

  “Goddamn it!” Woody yelled as he threw a chair across the room.

  He looked into Ray’s eyes. “How far are you willing to go? Will you stand with us now?”

  “You’re damn right I will. What do you have in mind?”

  “The Militants, they are ready to go. I say we go right for the parade. We hit them in broad daylight with everything we have, and we kill the Deputy Fuhrer while we’re at it.”

  “Woody, Woody!” a voice cried out.

  One of the Militant crewmembers rushed towards him.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the machines, the Militants, somebody has sabotaged them!”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” Ray asked in disbelief.

  “We’ve got fried chips, cables cut, engines overloaded, some of the damage could take weeks to repair!”

  “What? Who did this?” Woody demanded.

  “Incoming, we’ve got SS units en route!” the radio operator called.

  “How many?” Ray asked.

  “Dozens, maybe even hundreds.”

  “We have to run. We can’t stay here,” insisted Lisa.

  “And lose everything we have worked for?”

  “Without the Militants, we don’t stand a chance, and you know it.”

  Woody didn’t looked convinced, and everyone understood his resistance to leave everything behind. He turned to Ray for answers.

  “We leave here with our lives, or nothing at all.”

  “Evacuate, send out the order,” said Woody.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” said Lisa.

  But that made it no easier to stomach.

  Ray snatched up his rifle as the evacuation signal went out. That was when he noticed Mark edging further away towards the corridors adjacent to the front entrance. The same man who had driven the getaway van when he first got involved. He was sweating profusely and looked suspicious, as if trying to look for an opportunity to run.

  “Hey, Mark, where’re you going?” Ray yelled.

  Before he could answer, an explosion rang out in a tunnel not far from him. Ray ducked down as a dust cloud burst out over him. He saw Mark fleeing from the corridor beside where the explosion had originated. SS soldiers rushed from the tunnel, firing on the run. Ray lifted his rifle and let loose a short burst to kill the first man. Others grabbed for their weapons and opened fire.

  “We gotta move, go!”

  He rushed to a tunnel on the far side and waited at the entrance for others to follow him. Lisa led a small group through, and Woody was bringing up the rear. Some scattered in all directions to other tunnels.

  “Come on, move, move, move!”

  He fired another few bursts and leapt into the corridor, dropping his magazine and reaching for another. He found the group waiting at a junction and took the left fork.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Lisa asked.

  “Damn right I do. You think I’d hang around here without knowing everything there is to know about this place?”

  He ran on and on, taking several more turns. They could still hear the echo of gunfire in the distance. The sound of their friends fighting and dying, but they owed it to one another to get out. Get free so they could keep up the fight. The tunnels became narrower and narrower, until they thought they would reach a dead end. And then they came upon a ladder that reached up to the surface.

  “Come on, let’s get the hell out of this place,” said Ray.

  He slung his rifle over his back and began climbing. He was at the top in no time at all and threw off the manhole cover. He quickly glanced out into the wasteland above, but it was dark, and he took that as a good sign. He clambered out and crouched down, taking his rifle into his hands, and waited for the others. Twelve had made it out. He got to his feet and ushered the others to do the same, but as they stood up, a series of spotlights came on and caught them in the powerful beams. To their horror they found themselves standing before one of the Reich’s dreaded landships. Several of the rebels went for their weapons.

  “No, don’t!” Ray shouted.

  He knew it would be futile to fight against such a powerful machine with nothing but small arms. The towering walker paced several steps towards them. The ground shook beneath their feet, and Ray realised this was the end for them all. It stopped ten metres short of them, and its spotlights shone in their faces as if the crew were studying them. It paused, and none of them could understand why it hadn’t started firing.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Lisa whispered.

  “I have no idea,” replied Ray in amazement.

  The lights turned off, and the hulking mechanical monster turned and walked away, as if it had not seen them at all.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not waiting around to find out, come on!”

  Ray’s heart was pounding in his chest from the stress of situation. He couldn’t believe he was still alive, but that gave him hope.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kriegsmarine Kampfläuferdepot, Roosevelt Island, New York

  21st November 2017, 11.32pm

  Kapitän Marcus Klenner marched through the old hospital, while the SS entourage moved behind them. Not once in all his years had he ever expected
to be treated in this way. The Kriegsmarine was the shield of the Reich, and the arm most responsible for grinding down the Americans in the long war. He’d become a prisoner in his own facility, while the hated SS continued to grow in numbers. They reached the open air, the small area of space between the hospital now functioning as the barracks, and the massive hangars for the landships. Instead of moving inside they were paraded off to the side. It took almost a full minute to reach the space in front of the walking machines. A Waffen SS officer waited there, along with a dozen of his men. More surprising was the number of technicians and machine crew.

  “Ah, excellent,” said the man, “I am SS-Obersturmbannführer Christen, and I have been sent here by my illustrious superior, Standartenführer Müller to bring order to the chaos.”

  He walked along the group of Naval officers, enjoying the moment, savouring it.

  “I have been instructed to inform you that as of 11pm this evening, all Kriegsmarine machines and assets are under the control of the Waffen SS.”

  At that moment, a long red banner with the Nazi insignia was raised atop a pole on the upper structure of Thor, obviously timed to match their arrival. It drew nothing but scorn from Marcus’ men. The Obersturmbannführer looked at the machines as though they were some great mythical beings.

  “These machines will join the ranks of the Heavy Panzer Battalion as my Iron Legion, and they will perform their duties well. Our VIP guests will appreciate seeing them helping with security at the Thanksgiving Parade.”

  With no more than a nod, a group of Panzer Battalion uniformed men lined up in front of Thor. Marcus counted twenty of them, and they were of a similar age to him. Each man regarded him and his men with a disgust they didn’t bother to disguise. Marcus felt little more than pity for them in return.

  Trained from teenagers to hate.

  “As you can see, the SS have been working on their own walking machine programmes for several years. It will be my honour to reassign these landships to those with clear motivations.”

  On cue, the landships Vineta and Freya rose from their slouched positions. They walked into position behind the line of SS men, leaving the other two machines stationary, their new crews hovering close in the line. Freya stopped, and her hatches opened to reveal new faces, each attired in SS uniforms. The Obersturmbannführer placed his black leather-clad hands together and walked along Marcus’ group.

  “As you can see, we will have no problem with operating these weapons of war. Which of you wishes to accept the honour of SS membership, and a permanent transfer to the ranks of the Waffen SS?”

  There was no reply, just silence. Marcus could feel his heart pounding.

  “An immediate promotion, increase in pay and conditions will take place. And best of all, you will join the elite Heavy Panzer crews of these fine walking machines.”

  He pointed up to Thor. When he looked back, he was startled to see a single man move forward. Marcus scowled as he moved away.

  Kaspar Clayborn.

  “I’m sorry, Kapitän. I’ll not rot in a cell when I could be part of this crew.”

  He moved alongside the men of the SS. As Marcus watched, he noticed a few of them gave him a nod, and he wondered if they’d planned this sometime earlier. They certainly knew each other. Marcus looked to his left and right, and then back to the Obersturmbannführer.

  “It would appear there is little interest in joining your little SS gang, is there?”

  Marcus didn’t even see the rifle butt as it struck his face, knocking him out cold.

  * * *

  New York International Airport

  22nd November 2017, 8.04am

  The Focke-Wulf Fw 380 Sea Eagle eight-engine jetliner came to halt with little more than a squeak from its over engineered undercarriage. The forty-metre-long aircraft was the pinnacle of German engineering, and based on the much older Fw 200 Condor of forties fame. It was an elegant aircraft with sweptback wings, and four banks of paired jet engines that could propel the craft at near supersonic speeds. The Sea Eagle was used extensively throughout the Reich as a high-speed transport and cargo plane. There was even the militarised version with missiles bays and remote control turrets for use by the Luftwaffe. This aircraft was unpainted and gleamed bright silver, as though a piece of exquisite artwork. The side door remained closed while the steps were manually moved into position.

  Kriminaldirektor Mattias waited patiently metres from the steps, with Mayor Finn right beside him. Two long lines of Waffen SS men also waited for the entourage to arrive. A line of limousines was positioned a short distance away. Kriminaldirektor Mattias scowled upon spotting two armoured cars bearing the markings of the 4th Panzergrenadier Division of the Waffen-SS. They’d moved onto the runway alongside the limousines. The doors opened, and out came Standartenführer Müller and a pair of his guards. They moved briskly, the skirts of their long trench coats fluttering slightly in the light breeze. He stopped alongside the two men and saluted in the party fashion. Mattias matched his salute, and then nodded back towards the city.

  “Well?”

  “Operations against the insurgents are going well. As you know, two days ago, my men stormed the enemy’s underground headquarters. Since then, my units have penetrated a dozen cells and captured or killed more than fifty of the enemy.”

  “And our losses?”

  Müller shrugged.

  “Less than theirs.”

  “Good, very good, and the Kriegsmarine? I read your reports on their recent actions. Their response to this crisis has been…disappointing.”

  “Exactly. They were not very cooperative. As per your standing orders, I have placed them under house arrest at their barracks. My panzer officers have taken control of the machines.”

  “Good. And the landships, they are ready for the parade?”

  Standartenführer Müller nodded.

  “Three are patrolling Central Park.”

  “And the fourth?”

  Standartenführer Müller smiled.

  “Thor is protecting the barracks under the command of our operative. I thought a little extra security at the Kriegsmarine Kampfläuferdepot would be handy, and it is the perfect test of Korvettenkapitän Clayborn’s loyalty.”

  Kriminaldirektor Mattias looked pleased at the news. His eyes remained on the aircraft, and his tone lowered even more as he spoke.

  “You see, Standartenführer. Family information can be a great motivator in times of crisis. Korvettenkapitän Clayborn will be loyal, that much I can promise you. We have made sure of that.”

  “And the others? Kapitän Klenner refused to comply.”

  “Of course he did. I expected nothing less. The Kriegsmarine are rife with sympathisers here and at home. There is no doubt it is time for a purge of the commanders. When this visit is over, I will pay them a visit.”

  Even Müller appeared uncomfortable at hearing this. He had little respect for the pompous and arrogant fools in the Kriegsmarine, and would be happy to see them locked up or ejected from the American Union. But the Gestapo were just as likely to torture them or make them disappear without a moment’s thought.

  “Ah…here they are.”

  The side doors of the Focke-Wulf Fw 380 swung open, and each of them turned their attention to the new arrivals. Kriminaldirektor Mattias kept his eyes locked onto the aircraft, while continuing to talk.

  “The Kriegsmarine continue to demonstrate their lack of loyalty to the Reich. It is time for them to work in this new world of ours, or else. Well…let’s see what happens.”

  * * *

  New York

  22nd November 2017, 7.10pm

  Ray was walking down a street he had known well as a child. The shops were open, but there were few customers on the streets. ORPOs lay on the corner of every block. He had Lisa with him as they strode through the neighbourhood with not a weapon between them, nothing but the knife tucked into his sleeve. She clung onto his arm as though they were a couple out for a walk.

&nbs
p; “Look at them. They’re terrified,” she whispered.

  “Wouldn’t you be? What protection do they have against these authorities?”

  They stopped near a newsstand where a couple of people were buying papers and magazines from the seller, just to hear the conversation.

  “What’s the point of standing up against the Reich?” one asked, as he looked at the images of destruction on the front page of the paper he had been handed.

  “Somebody has to make a stand,” said the other customer.

  “Keep it down, you want to end up like them?” asked the seller.

  “I’m just saying they are doing the right thing.”

  “Maybe, and they’re all dying for it.”

  “Yeah, I hear they’ve taken a real beating. A few more days and there’ll be nothing left of this resistance,” said the seller.

  “Not if people don’t help them.”

  “What are you doing to help? What are you willing to risk?”

  The conversation fell silent. They all seemed to agree with what Weathers was trying to achieve, but would go no further. Ray and Lisa moved on.

  “They’re more than just terrified. They have lost hope,” said Lisa.

  “Can you blame them? Whatever resistance existed in this city it has died after they attacked us.”

  “I don’t believe that. You heard it back there. There are still people who want to fight, and they want to resist. They just need a chance.”

  “How can they? How can they fight against the machines?”