“The Marines are going in,” the radio officer said. “We’re to fall back and stand by for fire support if necessary.”
“Signal that we understand,” Macchiarella ordered. “God bless those brave men.”
“Fuck me,” Captain Dwynn breathed. The smoke and flumes rising from the valleys and fjords was awesome. Even with the advanced equipment, the battleships could only be seen through infrared. Their observation position, high over an ill-made road, allowed them a fine view.
“I’d sooner not, if it’s all the same to you,” Chang said. “They do know we’re here, right?”
“I don’t think they’ll take pot-shots at us,” Dwynn assured him. “We’re a bit below their notice at the moment.” He picked up his rifle and checked the equipment. “Come on,” he said, as the noise of a German convoy could be heard. “Time to go hunting.”
“The mines are set,” Chang assured him, checking the display. Dwynn nodded grimly, examining the road as it zigzagged along the sides of rocky mountains and lakes. There were twenty-five German vehicles, mainly troop trucks and one tank.
“Wait until most of them are on the mined bit,” Dwynn ordered, as the noise of vehicles came closer. “Stand by… now!”
Chang hit the detonation command. The explosion was deafening as it shattered the road, tipping most of the German vehicles into the fjord. The secondary explosions destroyed the German vehicles that remained; Dwynn sprayed bullets madly across the few survivors.
“Send in the contact report,” he snapped, as Chang hastened to clear up the equipment. “As of now, Bergen is cut off from German reinforcements!”
Brigade-Fuhrer Statler was panicking. The sudden appearance of the American battleships – now that their flags could be made out among the smoke – could only mean one thing; invasion. His radios were being jammed and he had only one landline leading back to Oslo, where reinforcements were supposed to be on call. Instead, the reports suggested that almost all of the roads had been destroyed, trapping his force in Bergen.
“Everyone into the shelters,” he shouted, as a new hail of shells came crashing down on Bergen. The Norwegians, he hoped, were cowering in their shelters; the Germans had built themselves shelters as well, but who had thought that they would have been needed?
“They’re moving in the troops,” a harassed officer said, trying desperately to coordinate the reports from three spotters who had taken field telephones and climbed to higher ground. “They’re going to land troops.”
Statler took a breath. “We’ll meet them in the town,” he said. “Everyone, get ready; if we can crush them quickly, we might throw them back into the sea!”
Swiftly he considered a counterattack and dismissed the possibility. Even if his formations had survived intact – which he was fairly certain they hadn’t – they would be seen to be moving into position and shelled to death. As he began to issue orders for a fight to the death in Bergen, he began to consider surrender.
The air was cold and smelled bad, as far as the Marines were concerned. Their little powerboats, as the British called them, were heading up the fjord towards the first island, a large island between the Americans and Bergen harbour. Private Max Shepherd smoked incessantly, waiting for something to happen. The sounds of war could be heard, but no one was shooting at them.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Private Buckman groused. “The higher-ups probably got the map reading wrong and sent us to the wrong side of Norway.”
“Land ho,” Captain Caddell shouted. The eerie atmosphere only grew; the Germans were making no attempt to stop the Marines. “Stand by to land!”
Shepherd checked his rifle and other items, including his bit of hair from a girl. It had been supposed to bring him luck. The boat shuddered as it hit an underwater rock, before they hit the… well, he supposed it was a beach. Rocky and desolate, the landing site was inhospitable enough even without Germans defending it.
A blast of profanity made him jump round, weapon lifted. Sergeant Pike had stepped onto an underwater rock, and then stepped off it and landed in the drink. The landing bay was treacherous enough as it was; several other privates were struggling to get ashore.
“Forward,” Captain Caddell bellowed, saving several enlisted men from the Sergeant’s rage. “Everyone who can, get up there!”
Shepherd finished pulling a fellow private out of the water and gaped at the cliff. It was sheer… except for a few handholds and a jagged path blasted by the battleships. He went for the path, pulling himself up with considerable effort, and finally made it to the top. A shot rang out and he fired back, grateful for the first time for the pack on his back. The German had heard him coming, but he’d fired into the pack side on.
He threw himself to the ground as a burst of American fire blasted over the ridge. “What’s going on up there?” Captain Caddell bellowed. “Private, what’s happening?”
Idiot, Shepherd thought. “Captain, there was a German here… and a lot of dead bodies.”
He cast his eyes over the German position as the remainder of the Marines pulled themselves up onto the island. It wasn’t as big as it had looked on the map, but the battleships had made a real mess of the position, destroying almost everything that had looked like it could be dangerous.
“Secure the place,” Captain Caddell bellowed. Shepherd threw himself into the search as the Marines poked around, looking for German survivors. He glanced up as he worked; the harbour of Bergen could be seen now, almost a ruin after the battleships had done their work.
“Take five,” Sergeant Pike said. Shepherd blinked at such unusual benevolence, before realising the point; the sappers had to go to work on the German mines. Shots ran out as snipers picked off floating mines, while British-built MSVs made their way through the waters. Great plumes of water rose up as mine after mine was detonated.
“We’re doing well so far,” Private Manlito observed. “You think we’ll get a chance to score with Norwegian dames?”
Shepherd snorted. “It’s not as if we’ve had great shakes with foreign dames so far,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “The French girls have been putting out for the Germans for two years now, you know.”
Private Manlito chuckled. “I’m sure that they’ll put out for you,” he said. “Put you out the door, perhaps.”
“Bastard,” Shepherd said. “You know, wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of the war here?”
“Assemble,” Sergeant Pike shouted, blowing a whistle as the boats landed to pick them up and ship them to Bergen.
Manlito snickered. “You’ll have to be shot for that,” he said. “That son of a bitch isn’t going to let you stay here.”
“This is the best goddamned day of my life,” General George Patton exclaimed, watching events from the Maryland. He had wanted to go ashore with the troops, but Eisenhower had forbidden it. “What’s progress?”
Captain Jorge Nevin consulted his clipboard. He didn’t like the new PDAs. “We have troops on the ground and surrounding Bergen,” he said. “The aircraft report German movements among the town, but we don’t know how many are in there. The other landing zones report similar success.”
“There’s one in the eye for the old women, some of them young men,” Patton chuckled delightedly. “Order them to reduce the Germans and take over the towns, then we can start the real work of mounting an offensive against Oslo.”
Nevin bowed. He’d worked for Patton long enough to know that little details like logistics meant nothing to him. “I will send the command at once,” he said.