Sims had made a name for himself by revolutionizing the way navy guns were aimed and fired. Many captains had come to the horrible conclusion that their ships couldn’t hit anything. The human mind couldn’t do the calculations necessary to enable the guns to aim at objects moving at speed and in different directions, and then hit what they thought they’d aimed at. Sims, along with an equally brilliant Royal Navy officer, had devised an electronic range finder that did the work. That and extensive gunnery practice, of course.
“First,” said Sims, “the Germans sank or badly damaged three older battleships at Mare Island. They were little more than floating targets when the Germans arrived because I had stripped them of their crews to enable the two newer ones to flee after the Arizona. In doing so I did the older ships and their crews a favor. Had they fought the Germans, they would have been destroyed. Had they fled, they would have been caught and sunk. The older ships had half the firepower of the German battleships that attacked them. However badly damaged they might be, those three old ships still have many of their guns. If given enough time, some of the damaged guns can be repaired. I propose that those guns that can be salvaged be removed, shipped from Mare Island to here, and mounted on either side of the Golden Gate and elsewhere to protect San Francisco.”
Liggett beamed. “That can be done?”
“Indeed. They were anchored in shallow water; thus, even the ship that sank, the Michigan, is resting with her superstructure above the surface.”
“Excellent,” Liggett said, “Anything I can do to help please ask.”
“General, I will require transportation. Some of the equipment can go by barges or trains, but others will require improvisation. May I call on your engineers?”
“Of course.”
“I do have a small number of other, smaller warships at Seattle, and these include a handful of cruisers and, more important, some torpedo boats and six submarines. I propose to utilize them as soon as I can to interdict German supply ships. I believe the only reason the Germans didn’t dally longer off San Francisco was that they are beginning to run low on fuel after a very long voyage. It isn’t yet a crisis for them, but it could be. Their fuel vulnerability is something to keep track of.”
It was Liggett’s turn to update the group and he informed the admiral that two more regiments of regular American Army infantry were on trains and crossing the mountains via the northern route and should be in San Francisco in a week. Monumental efforts were being made to keep the tracks open and clear of snow. He reported that the snow removal efforts had unearthed a couple of dead bodies along the northernmost route. It was presumed that these were some of the German saboteurs who had failed in their assignment.
Of more importance, the additional six thousand regular army soldiers would be useful but only a drop in the bucket when compared with the German Army now estimated at a quarter of a million.
“Where will you make your stand, General?”
Liggett winced. He was going to have to admit that most of California was indefensible. “Ultimately, San Francisco. My engineers are designing defenses that will surround San Francisco and lead east into the mountains. It is about five hundred miles from San Diego to San Francisco and I fervently hope we can delay the Germans long enough to complete our works.”
With little more to discuss, the meeting broke up. Josh Cornell thought it was interesting that both the admiral and the general appeared to be getting along. Perhaps a shared crisis makes people think more clearly and less parochially. Regardless, he had more pressing things on his mind.
He smiled at Elise, “Lunch?”
She smiled briefly in return and looked at her notes. “I think I should type these as soon as possible.”
“But you do have to eat. You must conserve your strength for your typing.”
She was about to retort sharply when Admiral Sims voice boomed from his office. “For God’s sake, Elise, go to lunch with him or you’ll never get anything done.”
Colonel Marcus Tovey of the Texas National Guard hoped he had prepared his defensive position well. He had his flanks covered and his men were dug in. He wished they had something more than just their rifles. The damned Mexicans had machine guns and artillery to go along with their excellent German rifles.
What he and his men wanted more than anything was to kill Mexicans. And if there were any Germans around they’d kill them as well.
Tovey and the rest of his men still seethed over the horror of the burning of Laredo. Granted, many of the fires had likely started during the vicious house-to-house fighting that had erupted when the citizens of that border city awoke to the fact that the Mexican Army had swarmed across the Rio Grande. Just about every man in town had grabbed his rifle or pistol and started shooting Mexicans. The battle quickly disintegrated into a chaotic brawl.
The results had left many dead, including hundreds of civilians, among them women and children. Atrocities had been committed on both sides in an orgy of violence that would take a long time to forgive. Tovey knew he would never forget the sight of several small children who’d been dismembered by an artillery shell, or a woman who’d been shot in the back of the head by Mexican soldiers as she’d tried to flee. There were rumors of rapes and the thought of Mexican soldiers assaulting white women made his blood boil.
Thus, what the Mexican command thought would take only an hour or two wound up taking three long bloody days. Buildings were destroyed and homes were burned as the fighting raged from house to house and room to room. The delay enabled Guard units like Tovey’s to gather and join the fight. They had been too few and too late, and the Mexicans ultimately prevailed, but only after paying a heavy price.
He recalled that American army officer who’d crawled out of the Rio Grande so long ago, and asking him just what the hell Germans were doing south of the Rio Grande? Now Tovey knew. Everyone knew. The sons of bitches had been planning a “stab in the back” attack on the United States. And they had burned Laredo. They would pay.
A Mexican officer they’d captured said that it had been bandits led by Pancho Villa who’d set most of the fires, and that the rest were a result of intense combat. That may have been true, but it didn’t matter. “Remember Laredo” was a rallying cry. Then they hanged the Mexican son of a bitch.
Tovey’s men were below the crest of a low hill maybe twenty miles north of Laredo and on the way to San Antonio. Rumor had it that San Antonio and the recapture of the Alamo were the goals of the Mexicans. Rumor also had it that the Federal government in Washington was powerless to help stop the invasion. More rumors even said that Texas Governor William P. Hobby, Democrat, had rejected assistance from Washington. Rumors and more God-damned rumors. Rumor had it that pigs could fly. All he knew was that he was on a hill and the Mexican Army was coming north and nobody was going to help out.
That was okay by him, he thought and spat on the ground for emphasis. Texans didn’t need help from anybody, especially to deal with a bunch of fucking greasers.
A smattering of gunfire erupted to his left. Damn Mexicans were trying to get around his flank. He could see a couple of score of them and that his men had the situation in hand. The Mexicans left a few on the ground and pulled back, joining the several thousand forming up behind the low hill in front of him.
This organized fighting was new to him. As a Texas Ranger he’d fought the Apache and the Comanche, and even some Mexican bandits, but this was nothing he’d ever experienced. One of the older guys in the unit had ridden with the Rough Riders in 1898, but even he said this was a whole lot different.