MacArthur glared at him. “Martel, I have absolutely no idea where the devil those places are. May I assume you can lead us to where General Liggett wants us?”
“Yes sir. You are needed in great haste.”
“Then lead on. We will follow you.” To the men around him, he ordered. “Everybody after me! Don’t even think of trying to find your units. Just come.”
The army surged from the waterfront. When MacArthur felt the men had all cleared the docks, he turned and hollered, “Double time, men, double time. We have Germans to kill.”
Both the crown prince and General Mackensen were frustrated. Two waves of infantry had moved along a narrow front designed to punch their way through the American lines. It hadn’t yet happened. Twenty thousand men were hung up in the American lines and fighting the Yanks tooth and nail. It was clear that American intelligence had divined exactly where the attack would fall and that the Americans had reinforced that area.
It was also evident that more American defenders were coming down the rail line from Seattle and were beginning to enter the fighting. German planes attempted to strafe them, but American machine guns and the handful of fighters they owned had disrupted this. Gothas had tried to bomb the railway and only confirmed again that it was difficult for them to hit a small target with any degree of accuracy.
This day would be critical. There had been word that Hutier’s men might have broken through, in which case the city would fall to Germany without a need to defeat the Americans in front of them. Word had also reached them that the fleet was in the bay. Victory was almost theirs.
Almost, however, was not quite success. The tide could turn against Germany in a hurry. They had to win here as well as in the city to ensure victory. Nothing could be left to chance.
To further complicate matters, word had been received that a large American force had emerged far in their rear and was threatening San Diego. Even though San Diego was hundreds of miles away, it was a solemn reminder that the United States could field a large army if given enough time. The stubborn defense of San Francisco was also a case in point. Time was running out for the German invasion force. Although the danger was far from immediate, the Americans were getting stronger. He had to finish off the defenders of San Francisco and then send a sufficient force south towards San Diego to defeat the new threat.
“San Francisco must fall today,” the prince said.
“Our men are exhausted,” said Mackensen. “They have marched and fought their way up California almost without letup. Granted, the American defenders were less than splendid, but the army is almost worn out.”
“Almost, General, but they still have one good fight in them, perhaps more. Still, I am not going to squander our limited resources in a meatgrinder operation. No, the two other waves ready to attack will do so immediately, but not into the current arena of fighting. They will swing to our right and attack just to the east of the current fighting. The American lines are denuded of manpower there and will crumble. The American defenders are frozen into place and your two waves will roll through them and catch them in a giant claw.”
Mackensen was clearly unhappy. “If we attack as you suggest, there will be confusion as units get mixed up.”
The prince stood stiffly. “I did not make a suggestion, General Mackensen. It was an order and yes, I do understand that problems will ensue. However, they cannot be any larger than losing more men and the attack bogging down where we are.”
Mackensen came to attention. “Yes, Majesty.”
The old general would do his utmost although he was wondering just why he’d agreed to come out of a well-deserved retirement. He was going to ask the prince if he knew anything about the strange goings-on in the area of the new attack, but decided against further aggravating a clearly frustrated crown prince.
Besides, when the attack succeeded as it would, he would find out firsthand what the Yanks were up to.
George Patton stared in disbelief. It looked as if the entire German Army was coming out of its trenches and awkwardly turning in his direction, their neat formations disintegrating into what resembled a horde. What the hell were they doing? Had they all decided to attack him? That was a crazy thought. They had no idea his force was in front of them. He laughed. No, they had just handed him a grand opportunity.
Patton turned and faced the dozen officers and men who were watching him expectantly. Rank in a mechanized outfit had a way of becoming blurred as men became filthy with dirt and grease. It annoyed the normally immaculate Patton that he again looked like a bum.
He raised a riding crop and yelled, “To your steeds, men. The U.S. Army’s first armored mechanized regiment, or whatever the hell they’re going to call us, is going to roll! Mount up.”
Moments later, fifty formerly British tanks emerged and crossed the American trenches. On their hulls was proudly painted the letters “U.S.A.” and in red, white, and blue respectively. Behind the tanks came close to a hundred armored trucks, each with four light machine guns. Armored trucks had performed poorly for the Germans, but Patton thought they might do better in support of the larger armored vehicles.
A smart-boy engineer had concluded that bullets were more likely to bounce off the trucks’ thin metal plating if the armor was slanted, and damned if tests hadn’t proven the young man right. Of course, tests and combat were hugely different stories. Somebody else had determined that both truck tires and tank treads could be protected a little by hanging woven cables alongside the vehicles. Now we’ll see how it works in the real world, he thought.
Patton was jammed into a modified tank that served as his command vehicle. No way was he going to miss out on the first great attack by tanks in warfare. He only hoped it wouldn’t be the last. His real concerns, however, were the propensity of the beasts to break down and the real difficulty of directing the operation once fighting began. The vehicles would be buttoned up so crews wouldn’t be killed by shrapnel or bullets, which meant that commanders and drivers couldn’t communicate. Wireless radios had been suggested, but they were too cumbersome and fragile for today’s battle. It was something to think about for the future.
The host of German infantry was directly in front of them and only a few hundred yards off. The Germans halted as the metal apparitions lumbered closer. The noise of the tanks’ engines drowned out all but the sound of bullets hitting like small hailstones pattering harmlessly off the tanks’ hulls.
As one, the American guns returned fire, with hundreds, then thousands, of bullets ripping through the massed German ranks. Dead and wounded fell in rows as the tanks moved forward at a sedate ten miles an hour. They could go faster, but why strain the engines or take a chance on bad terrain damaging them? The armored trucks drew alongside the tanks and their guns added to the slaughter.
As they neared the Germans, individual faces, their mouths wide with shock, anger, and terror grew plain. Peering through a firing slit, Patton exulted. “You bastards are going to die. How do you like war now, you Kraut sons of bitches?”
When the tanks were less than a hundred yards away, the Germans began to pull back. Their sergeants and officers tried to maintain discipline, but it didn’t help, as they were cut down with the rest. The American machine guns indiscriminately killed everything in front of them.
The slow retreat disintegrated, becoming first a fast walk, and then a run as the proud German Army fell back in utter disarray. Confused and terrified, soldiers threw away their rifles and packs, and then their helmets. Patton had never seen such a glorious sight. The armored advance continued and he felt the sickening crunch of tank treads grinding over the bodies of the dead and dying. The tank’s engine was not always loud enough to drown out the screams of those being squashed.