Soldiers of Tomorrow: Iron Legions

by Michael G. Thomas

Marcus lifted the cup to his mouth again, and then touched it on the lower lip. It made him wince, and he lowered it back to the desk.

  “Still hurting?” Karl asked.

  Marcus could feel the pain in his face, even a few seconds afterwards. The SS takeover of the place had not been peaceful, and when he’d resisted, he’d been punished with a rifle butt to the face. It was painful, but not as painful as the insult to his honour, and to the Kriegsmarine. His eyes remained locked onto his group of walking machines.

  “Man. The waiting is worse than the combat,” said König, “and that bastard Clayborn. I always knew there was something wrong with him. He was a Nazi all along.”

  Marcus nursed his bruised lip and chin.

  “We live and learn.”

  He winced again.

  “But damn it, that hurt.”

  He nodded as if trying to persuade himself on a course of action.

  “I think it is time we picked a…”

  The door opened, and a Waffen SS man leant inside.

  “Watch the noise. Some of us have Reich work to do.”

  Marcus’ stare was withering, and a Kriegsmarine junior officer let out a low whistle of surprise. Marcus lifted his eyes to the SS man.

  “You watch your tone, soldier. Your manners impress nobody here.”

  The provocation was deliberate, and the SS man took the bait. He took a step inside, and as one the Kriegsmarine officers rose to their feet. Each still wore the overalls and utility belts and gear they wore on operations, yet not one carried a firearm. They were all confiscated during the takeover.

  “What did you say?”

  Marcus licked his cracked and bruised lip.

  “I know you are no more than an SS grunt, but even you must be able to understand basic English. Do I need to repeat myself, or perhaps use shorter words?”

  The man’s face turned red, and he moved closer. König stepped near to Marcus, his hands hung down low and ready. He took another step closer, and then the emergency klaxon sang its usual song. The great roar filled the building, and the SS man seemed nervous. He looked to Marcus, helpless and confused.

  “Yes? Do you need help?”

  The man snarled, and Marcus laughed.

  “Get out of here, and report to your commanders. Don’t you know the emergency klaxon when you hear it?”

  He stormed out and slammed the door, accompanied by the sound of laughter and clapping. Marcus was back at the window and looking out at SS flagged machines to see what was happening. Floodlights were busily filling the place, as were the soldiers of the SS. Finally, he looked back to his crew.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little tired of all this.”

  Before any of them could speak, the rattle of rifle fire filled the air. Karl moved to the window, looked out, and back to the others.

  “It’s the rebels. They are inside the compound.”

  Marcus hesitated, but not for long.

  “We need to get to the walkers.”

  He rose to his feet, but the other two captains were there in his path.

  “What are you thinking, Marcus?” Thaddeus Kyle asked.

  Marcus sighed.

  “I’m thinking we get to the landships…”

  “What landships?” Mose König asked, “You know they have taken all of them to the city, don’t you?

  “Damn it, the video footage of the parade. They have the machines on the mainland, don’t they?”

  Mose König nodded.

  “Not quite,” said Thaddeus Kyle, “They left Thor behind to guard the place.”

  A smile formed across Marcus’ face.

  “And there’s something else down in storage, something we’ve been working on for the museum display.

  “Wait…you can’t be serious?”

  “Deadly serious, Thaddeus.” He then raised his eyebrows, “And then I intend on using it against the enemies of the Reich, starting with Kriminaldirektor Mattias and the rest of his lackeys. Who is with me?”

  One by one they stepped forward to pledge their allegiance to his cause with the movement, rather than the words.

  “And the rebels?”

  “What have they done to hurt you?”

  Mose König shrugged.

  “Nothing…yet. From what I can see, they’ve concentrated their actions against the SS.”

  “Exactly, so for they are off my radar. Let’s go. It is going to take all of us if we are going to get her operational in time.”

  * * *

  “Come on!” Ray yelled.

  He didn’t want to take another step, but there was no other way. They had to fight their way through, or die trying. He shot the lock off a smaller door on the front of the hangar, burst through, and kept on running. It was dark inside, illuminated with no more than the light from the flashlights on their weapons. They reached a doorway that opened into the main bay of the hangar and could see lights moving. Someone was waiting to open fire.

  “Down!”

  Shots rang out as a volley of automatic fire hammered their position.

  “Ah, shit!” Ray charged at an office doorway, flattening it as he tumbled through. He was on his feet in no time, and there was another doorway before him. He heard gunfire behind him as his friends returned fire, but Lisa had followed him.

  “Come on!” He ripped the door open and ran on through.

  “What are we doing?”

  “You’ll see!”

  He led her through two more office rooms and out of another doorway. They came out right on the flank of the enemy who had ambushed them. He didn’t hesitate to fire, and cut down two with his opening fire. Lisa joined in, and the six soldiers opposing them were easily dispatched. As they drew nearer to their vanquished foes, they saw they wore the dreaded uniform of the SS. Lisa spat on the bodies as they passed, and Ray didn’t blame her.

  More gunfire rang out, but as they reached the opening to the hangar, a dead SS man collapsed from a gantry above them, landing two metres ahead. He was riddled with bullets. Woody was leading the others in on the far side. They soon joined up and were running on a high. In that moment, they felt unstoppable. But the lights went on, and they all drew to a halt. They found themselves face to face with a walker. Spotlights from the machine pointed right at them, and it was powered up and ready for action. Bristling with machine guns, it towered over them, and they could just make out the name, Freya.

  “What do we do?” Lisa asked.

  “Nobody make any sudden movements!” Ray ordered.

  “Yeah, but what do we do?”

  “The one thing we can do. We lay down our weapons before we are all killed.”

  “We can’t, not after all we have done.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” said Woody.

  But before they could put them down an explosion burst out on the side of Freya. It was rocked slightly, and then a second later hit by another massive blast, toppled over, and smashed to the ground. The ground shook from the impact, and they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. They looked across to the other side of the hangar. Another walker sprang into action as it stomped up to them. It came to a stop as Kriegsmarine appeared in doorways on either side, encircling them. Nobody made a move. They were wearing a mix of their Naval uniforms and overalls, and carried nothing but pistols. But that was enough, none of the rebels dared move before the hulking mechanical war machine.

  The walker looked like a battered combat veteran. A hulking old machine, and that was when Ray realised he had seen it before.

  “My God,” he said, thinking back to the scene of carnage in London, as the very same machine rained down hell upon them. A hatch opened on the machine, and a ladder extended out to the ground. An officer climbed out and down the ladder.

  He looked to be around the same age as Ray. He was sharp-faced with inquisitive eyes and sported a large dark-haired beard. He looked like a well-experienced veteran, and was as calm as could be. Like the machine, Ray could swear
he recognised the officer. He looked just like the one he had seen refuse to kill his prisoners back on that last fateful day when the resistance was crushed in London.

  “I am Kapitän Marcus Klenner,” he declared.

  “Ray,” he replied calmly.

  The Kriegsmarine officer seemed to be weighing him up, but didn’t seem to present any threat.

  “What are we doing here?”

  No answer came as the German looked at him stoically.

  “Oh, come on, you just knocked out one of your own, what the hell is going on here?”

  “Not one of our own, Waffen SS!”

  Ray just waited for some explanation, and then it came.

  “The Kriegsmarine who serve with me are honourable men, and we will no longer fight with those scum.”

  “What are you saying, that you will help us?”

  “We have a score to settle, and we have a common enemy.”

  “The parade, we need to rescue Weathers. You know how important he is to all of this.”

  “We do, and we will serve the Reich no longer.”

  “So you will help us, you will help us get our people back?”

  Marcus looked around to the men under his command as if to get their opinion. There were no complaints.

  “Yes, we will help you, and in doing so, we will settle our own scores.”

  The rebels couldn’t believe it.

  “Spread the word. It’s time for the revolution to begin!” Ray yelled.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Columbus Circle, New York, NY

  Thanksgiving Day, 23rd November 2017

  The Deputy Führer and Mayor Finn watched the passing parade from their vantage point on the temporary podium structure assembled at the centre of Columbus Circle. The normally heavily trafficked area located at the Southwest corner of Central Park was engulfed in the pageantry of the parade. Crowds lined the streets, and the vehicles of the city’s various public services made their way along the traditional route. Gone were the floats and inflatable animals, in their place the public face of the Reich police forces, military units, and officials. It was not all grey and grim, however. Interspersed between the vehicles were blocks of uniformed men and women, as well as the marching bands that so many had come to see.

  “Excellent,” said the Deputy Führer, rubbing his hands together, “A fine parade and a great demonstration of the strength and unity of the Reich.”

  He locked eyes on the Mayor, a man who looked forever nervous.

  “And the insurgents are all accounted for?”

  Mayor Finn responded with alacrity.

  “Yes, my Führer. The city is secure and safe.”

  “Good.”

  The Deputy Führer looked down at his gleaming chrome coloured watch and then his eyes snapped back to the Mayor.

  “Just thirty minutes until the tanks of the Reich’s local hero, Hauptsturmführer Klaus Meyer will reach the Circle. Then, and only then, will we carry out this public demonstration. It will be a final reminder to any that consider opposing the might of the Reich.”

  He expression softened.

  “Do not worry, Mayor. This is required in all regions of the Reich from time to time. As with any animal, it must be taught discipline, and sometimes that requires physical correction.”

  “Hauptsturmführer Klaus Meyer?” asked a uniformed man waiting in front and to the right of the Deputy Führer. The two exchanged looks, and the Deputy Führer almost looked irritated.

  “You must forgive the captain of my personal bodyguard. Obersturmführer Hans Schneider is something of a fan of Meyer.”

  The SS man bowed slightly, though he looked far from embarrassed.

  “Of course,” said the Mayor, “Meyer is a hero to New Yorkers, and his recent actions have proven him to be utterly loyal to the Reich.”

  “Exactly,” said the Deputy Führer, “And that is why I want him here.”

  The man glanced back to his bodyguard.

  “Is everything in place?”

  Hans Schneider nodded.

  “All ground units are in position, and Luftwaffe aircraft are over the city. Nothing can stop this.”

  They looked down to the erected wooden scaffold, a crude affair, which might easily have been a device from three hundred years ago. Half a dozen rebels waited atop the platform, standing in front of armed Waffen SS guards. One man in particular rankled the Deputy Führer more than any other, the almost completely bald leader of the insurgents. As he regarded him, the rebel must have realised he was being watched and looked up.

  “He’s smiling.”

  He pointed to the prisoners.

  “Obersturmführer. Discipline that man!”

  Hans Schneider moved from his position and clambered down to the scaffold. Even as he made his way to the prisoner, the enemy leader began to laugh. The noise stopped as the Obersturmführer struck the prisoner in the head with his pistol. The Deputy Führer let out a sigh, but then the prisoner stumbled and turned around to face him. His expression was one of utter contempt, and it took all of the Deputy Führer’s self-control not to explode in rage. Instead, he barked orders to the guards.

  “Lash them to the posts. I don’t want to see their faces again!”

  A loud noise caught his attention. The distant shapes of heavy tanks were rolling down the main street.

  “Excellent. This will be over soon enough.”

  * * *

  Ray reached a fourth storey window and had a view out across Columbus Circle.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, gazing upon the scaffold.

  “A hanging? What is this, the dark ages?” Woody asked.

  Weathers’ face was bruised and battered, but he still looked strong and defiant.

  “He held out.”

  “Of course he did.”

  “Many wouldn’t, Woody. I don’t know if I could. I’ve seen first hand what these animals are capable of.”

  That was the moment he spotted the Deputy Führer. He was rubbing his hands together and smiling as he talked to the Mayor quite casually.

  “That bastard, before this day is out I am going to see him dead,” spat Ray.

  “One thing at a time.”

  Thousands of civilians were gathered for the brutal display about to unfold. Nazi flags flew from buildings and lampposts all around with bunting that gave a festive feel. The sight was bizarre, and left them in no doubt those in charge were not holding the executions solely to send out a message to the world. They enjoyed it as well.

  “Do you think we have a chance?” Woody asked.

  “With Marcus on side, I think we have a shot, yeah.”

  “If he can be turned, then maybe more can. There are ordinary Americans who have been sucked in by the Reich to serve for them. Maybe they can see it for what it is, too?”

  “If this isn’t enough of a display of that, I don’t know what is.”

  “But until now nobody could ever stand against them.”

  “No, and that changes, today.”

  There were lines of SS tanks and trucks, and it seemed the odds were impossible, but they were going to try anyway.

  “How many have come?” he asked, thinking about how few they had in the face of such horrifying odds.

  “Not enough, but we are going to do this.”

  “Damn right. I never wanted to lead this thing, and I don’t think you do either. We need Weathers, and the people need to see we have the will and capacity to fight to get him back.”

  “You know I underestimated you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “When Weathers told me you were some great veteran of London, I called it bullshit. Just another dreamer trying to seem like a big shot.”

  “I wish. I never bragged about London because there is nothing to brag about. We got our asses handed to us.”

  “And yet still you are willing to go on, and keep fighting? In spite of all that?”

  “The way I see it, it ain’t even a choice.”

/>   “No?”

  “Hell, no. This is who we are. We’ll fight scum like the Nazis, no matter what is costs us, or how long it takes. People like us have been taking a stand for the whole of eternity.”

  “You think this is fate or destiny?”

  “No, not that. I just think it is the way we were wired.”

  “And the Nazis, you think it was the way they were wired to be the way they are?”

  Ray shook his head.

  “I guess not.”

  The other cells were moving into position on the far side of the Circle, and more mingling with the crowd.

  “We have one shot at this. We have the element of surprise and the Deputy Führer right there, within our grasp. We can turn things around today, just like Weathers’ vision.”

  Weathers was smiling, and that amused Ray, a last sign of defiance before the end. He knew he was about to die and could have no idea a rescue attempt was underway. An SS officer smashed his pistol into Weathers’ head, and he stumbled before regaining his composure and glaring at the Deputy Führer.

  “No, what are you doing!” Ray yelled.

  The Deputy Führer leapt up from his seat in a furious anger, barking orders at the SS man who had struck Weathers.

  “You should know him by now.”

  “He’s gonna get himself killed, even sooner than is scheduled.”

  “That’s what makes him who he is, defiant in the face of the worst kind of scum. There is nothing more they can do to him.”

  “You are wrong. There’s plenty. Come on, we have to get this started.”

  They headed for the stairs. Two rebels lifted a machine gun into position ready to fire from the same window they had been observing the Circle from.

  “Nobody fires until I do, you hear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” they replied.

  It wasn’t how he wanted to be addressed, but he didn’t have time to explain it. They were on the stairs and rushing down.

  “They like you, and they will follow you into anything.”

  Woody saw Ray shaking his head.

  “They’ll soon regret it, I’m sure.”

  “No, they won’t. It doesn’t matter what the outcome is here today, what matters is that we do our best. It is all we can do.”