To the other side of the road and beyond the Germans lay Lake Ontario. It was shrouded in mist. Overhead, a few small planes flew. Clearly they were spotters, but what were they spotting? That they weren’t Germans was evident by the fact that German guns were trying to shoot them down, but without success. The tiny planes were too nimble and kept confounding their attackers with their erratic flying.
Landry slipped alongside Grant. “Damn good job of hiding everyone, sir.”
“Well, we’ve only got one chance to do this right,” Tom said.
His plan was simple. While it was thought that the escaped prisoners had enough of a head start to get away, he wasn’t certain. He also had no idea how long the Germans would chase them before giving up. Maybe they would never give up. Attacking and stalling the Germans, if only for a little while, might provide the necessary cushion. It could also get them all killed, he thought grimly. Thus, they would hit and scoot. Their ammunition would be used up in only a few minutes and then it would be time for them to disappear. But if they could delay the Nazis for even a half an hour it would enable the escapees to get that much farther away. The Canadian prisoners had already begun to disappear within the throngs of civilians, while the military personnel would continue to head in the general direction of Quebec.
At least that was what he hoped. Some of his civilian soldiers suddenly opened fire. They were too soon and ineffective. The German column stopped abruptly. Soldiers tumbled out of their vehicles and machine guns and cannon opened up on the American position. Grant gave the order and Landry’s men began firing with accuracy. Germans fell, but not enough of them and the rest of the column was hurrying to their rescue. Damn it, he thought. It was just too much to expect amateurs to maintain discipline. Sadly, they would pay for that lack.
Grant was just about to order his men to fall back when a volcano erupted just offshore. No, he realized, it wasn’t a volcano, it was the explosion of a massive shell. A second shell landed and this one was almost on top of the German column which was now in great disorder. A third and fourth shell exploded and these tossed some German vehicles into the air while the rest tried to scatter. More shells pounded the thoroughly confused Germans who were trying to flee back towards Toronto. Still more shells ripped through the column and worked their way back to the main force which was desperately trying to change course.
Landry grabbed Tom’s arm and pointed. “Would you look at that?”
Tom looked out towards the lake. The mist was clearing and a line of dark shapes could be seen a few miles offshore. They were warships and they were massive.
One of the Canadian volunteers came up and he was grinning hugely. “That’s the Royal Navy, colonel. It’s about damn time they showed up. The big ones are the battleships King George V and Iron Duke. I served on the King George. The smaller ones are cruisers and I ain’t sure which ones, but it sure as hell don’t matter.”
No, it didn’t matter, Tom thought. He stood and dusted himself off. He would not be involved in any more fighting today if he could help it. He got a casualty report. Thirty of his men were dead and more than a hundred wounded. Most of the casualties had come from the poorly armed and undisciplined volunteers. The result of his first attempt at an independent command had been a very mixed bag. If it hadn’t been for the navy, his men would have been slaughtered.
“I have a thought, sir,” said Landry. “Why don’t we take a flying column and see if we can do some damage in Toronto? My men and a bunch of cops could really raise some hell.”
Neumann had been well in the rear of the SS column when the British ships had destroyed it. Like the others, he turned his vehicle back towards Toronto. First, he stopped off at the Farm where he had housed and interrogated prisoners, including the almost forgotten Mary Bradford.
While there, he picked up Jed Munro and a handful of other Black Shirts. They were all that was left of what Neumann had hoped would be a sizable Canadian Nazi force. The rest had all fled and it was time for him to do so as well. The only way of escaping capture would be long and arduous and entailed heading north and then west until he reached a point where he could head south and then into Mexico. It would take him months if it worked at all.
First, however, he would need the money and phony identification he’d hidden in the German headquarters in Toronto. It was, he thought ironically, the same office where the unknown woman named Sherry had drugged him. Of that he was now certain.
His group could now be carried in only a few cars, which further dismayed him. They drove slowly, keeping an eye out for American planes. Finally, they pulled behind the headquarters building and entered, noting that the doors were open and papers were strewn about. He pulled his Luger and told the others to prepare for anything.
Neumann’s offices were in total disarray. It was even worse than when he’d left earlier.
“You have money, don’t you,” said Jed. “I think you’re gonna share it. We need to escape too.”
“Of course. First, I have to get it out of my wall safe.”
The safe was hidden behind a bad painting of some mountain scene out west. He pulled the painting off the wall and worked the combination of the safe.
“Jed, there’s more than enough for the two of us, but not if we have to share it with the others.”
Munro grinned wolfishly. “I understand,” he said. He left the room and ordered the men in the hallway to go out front and look for enemy soldiers. While he did that, Neumann opened the safe and brought out bundles of money which he piled on the desk. When Munro returned, his eyes immediately went to the cash. He didn’t see the pistol in Neumann’s hand. Neumann fired three times, killing Munro.
“Idiot,” said Neumann. He dumped the cash into a satchel along with several changes of identity. If the Black Shirt louts out front heard anything, they hadn’t reacted. He raced out the back and grabbed a staff car. It was time to drive west.
Guderian looked down on the bloody and shattered remains of Koenig. The young man had shown promise and, best of all, loyalty. His late aide lay with a number of other German soldiers who’d been pulverized by the unexpected barrage from Royal Navy battleships.
Battleships? Who the devil would expect battleships on Lake Ontario? The presence of the Royal Navy further convinced him that the German cause in North America was well and truly doomed. This year of 1944 was working out to be a disaster for the Reich. Stalingrad had been recaptured and von Paulus’ army destroyed. The field marshal had been captured. At least, Guderian thought bitterly, I won’t be the first. Hitler was going to shit and threaten him with death. Guderian didn’t give a damn. Worse, the Red Army continued to advance against a weakened German Army while Hitler gave futile orders to stand and die.
Hitler’s secret weapons hadn’t worked either. Von Arnim had fewer than a hundred V-1 rockets, and these had all been fired on the first day of the war and to little effect. The Americans hadn’t even reported their existence.
Nor was the situation any better on the high seas. The once mighty U-boat fleet was being systematically destroyed by Americans who seemed to know exactly where they were going to pop up. The Reich was afraid that a massive invasion fleet would sail from the American ports and invade anywhere they wished. Hitler’s so-called allies were wavering and would soon decide that they’d made a terrible mistake by backing the Reich.