Joe Sullivan pulled on his ear lobe, the response that he understood. He got up and found Captain Rice. “Martina says tonight, sir.” Rice nodded. Their long days and nights of waiting were over.
It seemed to take forever for the sun to set. The men lay down in their blankets and pretended to sleep. Rice and other key men watched as their Mexican guards took up station. It got darker. The stars came out and a coyote howled in the distance.
And then they were gone. The Mexicans had disappeared. There were no guards watching over them. Rice and his men stared at each other. Where their eyes playing tricks? Were the Mexicans truly gone or were they lying in wait?
Rice took a deep breath. It was time. “Now,” he said softly.
A score of men rose up and ran with him to the main gate. Rice fumbled with the key Martina had given. He almost dropped it but caught it and stuck it in. The lock opened.
Rice and others pushed it aside and ran to the building that housed the weapons. A few kicks and the outside door was smashed open. There was no guard inside, but a metal door barred them. Another key and it was open. Jubilant Americans began passing out rifles and ammunition. The weapons were a miscellany of Krags, Winchesters, and Springfields. They grabbed as much ammunition as they could. It would have to be sorted out later. Gunfire from outside had begun and was getting heavy. There was no time to dither.
“Who the hell do we shoot?” someone yelled.
“Germans!” Rice answered. “And anybody who shoots at us.”
On the other side of the camp, Steiner’s thin line of German soldiers, most of them clerks, had opened fire on the fleeing Mexicans. Men screamed and fell, and Steiner laughed. The Mexicans had tried to be silent, but he’d posted men to watch them. It was so easy and they were so obvious. One of the first Mexicans to die had been their treacherous sergeant, Sanchez.
Steiner’s men might not be combat troops, but any German was better than a group of confused and disorganized Mexicans. Beside him, Olson brought up his own men. Steiner waved him off.
“Go back and watch the prisoners.”
As Olson moved to comply, rifle fire opened up from outside the camp. A pair of Germans fell screaming. Steiner looked at the flashes of gunfire. Mexicans or Americans? It didn’t matter. More gunfire erupted, and this time to his rear. What the devil? The prisoners must have escaped and gotten weapons. Steiner swore. He was no longer in charge and the situation was deteriorating.
With that, Steiner blew a whistle and his Germans, like trained dogs, gathered around him and began a fighting withdrawal to the railroad tracks.
Men were shouting in English. Most were yelling at others not to shoot them, while some of Olson’s men were trying to surrender. Steiner could see Olson crumple and start to scream. Seeing him fall, the rest of his men disappeared into the night, leaving Olson alone on the ground. Soon, Steiner and his men were long gone.
In a few minutes, Olson was surrounded by the now heavily armed former prisoners, while some Mexicans in American uniforms watched. “Okay,” he said through his pain. “You win. I’m your prisoner.”
The prisoners’ leader, Captain Rice, looked down on him and spat in his face. This amused the others. Olson saw Martina walk toward him and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. Martina looked like a tigress stalking prey.
Martina pulled a large knife from her belt. In Spanish, she asked for Montoya’s men to hold Olson. They happily complied, and with one motion, she ripped open his stomach. He stared in disbelief at the blood pouring from his gut. The men holding him let him go, and ignored his screams. Olson curled up into a ball and groaned while he bled to death. Martina was not a good surgeon.
Josh stole a moment to get some food from the Army’s mess hall at the Presidio. More meetings were going on and he was not needed. A mere lieutenant junior grade was not going to impact the war. Sometimes he had the feeling that Admiral Sims barely tolerated his presence. Perhaps it was because of Elise or maybe the admiral thought he was a good messenger. Either way, he was not involved in combat and, however Elise felt about it, it ate at Josh.
Of course, the Navy at San Francisco wasn’t in a position to do much of anything except point a few shore guns at the Germans who now prudently stayed out of range, and prepare for the inevitable German ground assault. The reported escape of the Arizona and the Pennsylvania from Puget Sound had electrified everyone in San Francisco. The drawback of the escape was that the German battleships previously assigned to blockade them were now stationed off San Francisco.
Lieutenant Commander Jesse Oldendorf was seated alone at a small table in the large but half empty dining hall stuffing food into his mouth. Despite shortages, the cooks had done their usual excellent job and the aromas were enticing.
Josh envied the man. Almost every day, he was out there on the noble former trawler, the Shark, laying or inspecting the minefields. And just to keep things interesting, every now and then the distant Germans would lob a shell in his direction. They’d never come close, but a lucky hit was always a possibility. Even a near miss would send water a hundred feet into the air and create pressures that would crush the Shark’s hull.
Oldendorf saw him and waved him over. “How are things with the gods on Mount Olympus?” he asked cheerfully. “And how are you with the beautiful Miss Elise? Still seeing her or has she come to her senses?”
Josh laughed. “The gods tell me very darn little, and Elise has not yet regained consciousness.”
“Then don’t let her. She’s a prize.”
“She doesn’t want me out on any more combat missions.”
“And smart, too.” Oldendorf finished devouring a slightly overcooked pork chop which was just the way he liked it. “Of course, the Navy hasn’t had much to do with half a dozen Kraut battleships watching us like German hawks.”
The German warships patrolling Puget Sound had arrived and four had promptly departed in pairs. Obviously, their job was to try to search out the Arizona and the Pennsylvania. If the American warships stayed together, any battle with a pair of German ships would be fairly even, but the Americans could not afford to lose any ships, while the Germans could replace their losses. If the American ships split up, which Josh considered likely, then they would be outnumbered two to one if they met up with either German squadron.
Of course, it was a very big ocean, and intercepted intelligence said the German ships would return in a few days. That news was ominous. There was only one reason for them to return and that was to attack.
“At least you are doing something useful, Commander.”
Oldendorf looked at him curiously. “And just what am I doing, Lieutenant?”
Josh was puzzled. “Why, you’re out their laying mines for the time when the Germans try to bull their way through the Golden Gate.”
“You think they’ll try to do that?” he asked with a grin.
“They have to, sir. The Kraut officers want action and they won’t get it sitting out there while the army takes San Francisco. No, sir, they will bull their way in and we will try to stop them with our shore guns and your mines.”
Oldendorf pushed his empty plate away. “And how many mines have you seen the Shark lay?”
Now Josh was truly confused, “Maybe hundreds.”
Oldendorf smiled sadly. “I am now going to let you in on a little secret, Josh. You haven’t seen me lay a single mine. They’ve been rocks, Josh, rocks. You’ve seen the Shark and her loyal crew throw rocks overboard every day. Both you and the Krauts think we’ve been mining the entrance, which means they’ll come in real slow and cautious. When they do, our shore guns will try to pound the crap out of them. If we’ve fooled a man as keen as you, then we’ve fooled them as well.”