Patton did not like to admit to uncertainty. Indecisiveness and timidity were for fools and incompetents. He now had a vision as to how his precious new tanks should be used and it was at odds with division and corps commanders who greatly outranked him.
Thus, he was now in a Come to Jesus meeting with II Corps Commander, Major General James Harbord, and the army’s overall commander, Lieutenant General Hunter Liggett. Harbord was definitely against Patton’s ideas, while Liggett seemed curious, possibly receptive.
Patton took a deep breath. He wasn’t awed by either man. His family was wealthy and he was descended from at least one general in the American Revolution, Hugh Mercer, and many of his family had served with the Confederacy. Patton had been born in California and deeply felt the agony of the invasion. No man would ever awe him.
Patton was intrigued by the idea of reincarnation and frequently wondered if he had been a great war leader in another life, maybe Hannibal or Caesar. Whether it was true or not, Patton felt he was destined for greatness. Perhaps a future young soldier would wonder if he was a reincarnated Patton. The thought pleased him.
Harbord’s idea was quite simple. The tanks were excellent ideas and would, if accompanied by infantry, be able to penetrate German defenses on a broad front. Patton agreed that it would happen. He simply did not agree that it was the best usage of the new weapon.
“Gentlemen, I see the tank as replacing heavy cavalry of old. The tank is the reincarnation of the medieval knight and neither the knights nor other heavy cavalry were dispersed across a battlefield. No, they were massed and first they destroyed enemy cavalry and then they ran amuck behind the enemy’s infantry, slaughtering those poor fools as they ran in panic for safety. Better, and unlike the knights of old, we do not have to worry about the Germans having tanks of their own.”
Harbord interrupted, “But what about the German armored cars and trucks?”
Patton laughed harshly. “They are toys. They don’t have the guns to damage my tanks and don’t have the armor to protect against the weapons of my tanks.”
“But won’t you be putting all your eggs in one basket if you mass them?” Liggett asked. “What if they’re taken by an artillery barrage? They could all be destroyed.”
“General, that’s all the more reason to keep them together and moving so fast that the artillery can’t range on them. And with all due respects to your infantry, General Harbord, even if accompanied by tanks, they will not be able to do any more than push the Germans back a little ways, if even that. We do not have enough infantry to do any more. We’re still feeling the effects of the damned influenza along with other factors.”
Patton turned to Harbord, who glowered. “General, along with insufficient numbers, your men are simply not well enough trained or experienced to attack what will be formidable German defenses. Also, the Germans will have their own artillery, particularly those damned 75s on line and my tanks cannot stand up to them, particularly since, according to your plan, the tanks will be forced to move as slowly as the infantry. When the Germans arrive in a few days, they will immediately dig in and that will present problems for infantry.”
“But not for armor?” Harbord asked.
“No sir,” Patton responded. “Tanks are tracked vehicles and can go across rugged terrain, and that includes bridging trenches. The Germans will dig theirs narrow to protect against our mortars and that means they can be crossed by tanks. Barbed wire won’t hinder tanks at all, although they would slow down or even stop infantry.”
Patton lowered his voice to a conciliatory tone. It was difficult since he knew he was right. He so much wanted to shove his version of the truth down their throats. Where the hell was Eisenhower to help him keep his emotions in check?
“I know this is radical and desperate, but these are desperate times calling for desperate measures. We have a chance to shock the hell out of the Krauts and reduce their numerical advantage. Gentlemen, this is not only our best chance, it is our only chance.”
The Germans were a mile or so away and digging in. They weren’t present yet in great numbers, but would soon be. The handful of them shoveling away were the first in a great host that would besiege San Francisco. In the distance Luke saw dust where the German columns were coming down the road.
“Ike, if you have some artillery, now would be a good time to use it.”
Eisenhower just shook his head. “Look at them. All lined up like they were on parade. Yeah, Luke, if we had our own guns we could blow them back to Berlin.”
Other German units were closing in on the American lines. Soon the city of San Francisco would be under siege. In a short while, the Germans would bring up their own heavy artillery. These would not be the truly big siege guns they’d used to smash the fortifications at Liege and Paris in 1914, but they would be large enough at 155mm.
An American artillery piece boomed and, seconds later, a cloud of dirt erupted from in front of a German trench, scattering Germans in their coal-scuttle helmets. Jake idly wondered if they were better then the pie tins some American soldiers wore. Most Americans didn’t have anything more than hat and hair to protect their skulls. Guns and ammunition had priority, not helmets.
German guns quickly responded. They were the smaller caliber ones and did no real damage. Relatively speaking, the siege was opening with a whimper, not a bang.
Luke peered through his binoculars. The Germans were already back at their digging and more men had arrived. Any chance of sortieing out and smacking them before they were dug in was quickly disappearing. Liggett had forbidden it anyhow. He would not squander his troops in a meaningless attack.
“Y’know, Ike, when they get a few miles closer, their guns will be able to hit the bridge from across the bay.”
“I know,” Ike said.
The Dumbarton Railroad Bridge had been completed in 1910, but it crossed the southern end of the bay which would put it in range of German artillery fairly soon unless, by a miracle, the Germans were halted in their tracks. Neither man believed in miracles.
German trucks were now arriving and rolls of barbed wire were thrown on the ground with practiced skill. “They’ve done this before, haven’t they?” Ike asked with grim humor.
More German shells hit near their position. American soldiers cringed in terror. Sergeants had to physically restrain a couple from running in panic for the rear. The men weren’t really cowards, just part of a poorly-trained garrison that hadn’t seen any combat, and weren’t aware that they were safer in their trenches than running around unprotected by dirt walls.
It was time to go. Martel and Eisenhower grabbed their equipment and moved back and away from the front lines. They were painfully aware of angry glares from soldiers who had to stay. Luke heard someone mutter “rear-echelon cowards.” He turned angrily but everyone was looking at the sky.
Ike grabbed his arm. “Let it be, Luke. If I had to stay here while some brass headed for a warm bed, I’d be pissed too.”
Mexican President Venustiano Carranza and his staff had commandeered a large hacienda a few miles north of Monterrey. It was located on a hill and Carranza could see for miles to the north. The Americans were coming in their thousands and he needed help to stop them. But his army, the one that had invaded Texas, no longer existed.