“What happened, Mahoney?”
Mahoney blinked and then recognized Josh. “The fucking Germans paid us a surprise visit, sir. I guess that was why those three big ships of ours had left. Three older battleships were anchored in the bay and they were sunk or badly damaged, and then the damned Germans shot up the facilities,” shouted Mahoney. “Came right through the Golden Gate like they were invited to dinner. They pounded our coastal forts which didn’t fire back very much at all. Scuttlebutt says they were either abandoned or sabotaged or, hell, both.”
“Jesus,” said Josh.
“And then they opened fire on our ships when they came in range. Thank God they didn’t land any men. They might still be here if they had. Now what happened to you, sir?”
Josh explained that his ship had been ambushed by the Germans and that almost the entire crew was dead. Mahoney said that the medical facilities at Mare Island and the city of Vallejo were swamped. He suggested the fishing boat try a civilian hospital in the city and Josh concurred. So did the skipper of the fishing boat who wanted them off his vessel as soon as possible. If war had begun, he wanted no part of it. Josh didn’t blame him one bit.
Many of Kirsten’s neighbors left the group, understandably fearful about their own properties. Kirsten shared that feeling, but she felt a desperate need to find out what was actually going on. Surprisingly to her, Olson was one of those who left them. So much for leadership, she thought.
Thus, only four of them approached the town of Raleigh. So far they hadn’t seen any German soldiers, although they had noticed planes in the air. Kirsten suggested they dismount and spread out so as to not attract attention and the men agreed, looking nervously skyward. German planes carried machine guns.
Finally, they reached the summit of a gentle hill and looked towards the town. Black smoke was billowing from a number of buildings and several others had been smashed flat. It looked like half the town was gone. Many men were moving around in the ruins. Kirsten and the others all had binoculars and there was no question. They were looking at several hundred German soldiers in the little town of Raleigh, California.
“Would somebody explain this to me?” one of the men asked.
Nobody had an answer. Their presence above the town was useless, and they decided to leave. Now it was indeed time to return to their homes, pack up, and go. However, they soon sighted German patrols between them and their destinations and it was several hours before Kirsten decided the coast was clear enough to try to reach her ranch.
As she neared her home, she thought she saw wisps of gray smoke coming from its stone walls. She fought the urge to gallop and, instead, dismounted and approached her home with the same caution she’d used to examine Raleigh.
Her home was gone. The main house and the barn had been gutted. The walls were standing but that was it. There were bodies on the ground and there was no sign of life. Or Germans, for that matter. Whoever had attacked her home had moved on.
She carried her rifle in the crook of her arm and led her horse. She walked carefully into the compound that had been her home. The first body was Leonard’s. Her cousin had been shot and his body hacked at with what she assumed were sabers. His own broken rifle lay beside him, so maybe he had gotten one of the invaders. She hoped so.
Two more bodies were those of men who worked on the ranch. She would have a lot of burying to do, she realized grimly.
“Over here.” It was a woman’s voice and Kirsten turned in the direction it came from. Her cook, Maria, was waving to her from a shed that hadn’t been destroyed. She ran over and embraced Maria. They both cried at the simple pleasure of being alive and having found each other. Maria was older, in her forties, and had come with Kirsten from Texas.
Maria looked away. “Your other cousin, Ella, is in there,” she said, pointing at the shed.
Kirsten entered. She heard animal gruntings and sobs that took her a moment to realize came from a huddled figure in the corner. It was Ella and she was wrapped in a blanket. Kirsten pulled the blanket aside. Ella was naked and her body was a mass of bruises.
Maria entered and hugged Ella, rocking her telling her everything was all right. Ella screamed and pushed her away. Finally, Ella calmed a little and Maria stood up.
“The Germans came, maybe a dozen of them and all on horseback. Leonard tried to stop them so they killed him. He managed to wound one of them and that made them very angry, so angry that they shot the other men after they finished killing Leonard. Me they left alone. I guess I was too old and fat for them. Ella, they didn’t. They stripped her naked in the yard so all the men could see her and laugh at her, and then took her inside and tied her to her own bed and raped her. That was where I found her, all covered in blood and shit.”
Kirsten was sickened. “All of them?”
“Probably not. Maybe only six of them. After a short while they came out. They had a young officer who was the first to rape her and he ordered the men back on their horses and to continue the patrol. The officer told me to get Ella out of the house because they were going to burn it.”
Maria looked down at the ground. “I did as I was told. Ella has been like this since then. I’ve seen other women like this in Mexico after they were gang-raped. Sometimes they change and get better. Sometimes they don’t.”
Kirsten felt guilty. Leonard was dead and Ella had been ravished and here she was, unharmed. Ella’s mind was full of shame and pain and fear. Ella was a fragile person and had always led a protected, sheltered life, even on the ranch. Maria was right. Ella might not ever get over the shock.
If Kirsten hadn’t gone to Raleigh to see what was going on, she would have been home when the Germans had attacked. Would she have made a difference or would she have been just one more rape victim? She knew the answer. She would have suffered like Ella had.
Two more of her hired hands showed up. They’d been away in the fields and had prudently kept it that way. Kirsten had them help her search through the charred rubble for anything useful. Only the interior of the buildings had burned since the walls were made of adobe and stone.
They were not going to stay at the ranch. No, she decided they would take to the hills and make camp. At least she and Ella and Maria would. The two hands could come along if they wished. She wouldn’t blame them at all if they ran for safety. If they got to the hills, they could rest and figure out what to do.
And what would that be, she wondered despairingly? Her world was destroyed. All tangible memories of Richard, like the pajamas she’d worn, were gone in the fire. Could she start over? Would the Germans and Mexicans allow her to start over? In the meantime they would go for the hills.
Major George Patton led his tiny command, a score of Americans from the 7th Cavalry, right at the unsuspecting German force. It was a brave but futile effort. There were close to two hundred German cavalry including dozens with those intimidating medieval lances. At a hundred yards, Patton ordered his men to stop, pull out their rifles, and fire several shots in the Germans’ direction. He thought they’d hit a few, but couldn’t be certain.
With a whoop, the Americans turned and raced away. Looking over his shoulder, Patton saw the infuriated German cavalry thundering towards him. Bugles sounded and still more Germans joined the atack. He had half a mile to the crossroads and his lightly encumbered men easily kept their lead, even increasing it. The Germans opened fire but their shots went wild. This is wonderful, Patton thought jubilantly.