Trench 1915, p.26
Trench 1915, page 26
Fischer doesn’t say a word but he points out certain spots with his hand like and the squad responded immediately. Kruger and Kraus ready their pistols as they position themselves on both sides of the door while Fischer groans as he wonders where their fourth member is. The sound of rushing footsteps is heard coming down the steps and Fischer turns to see Graf, holding one of his B&H Beholla pistols on his right and a glass soda bottle on his left.
“Really? You lagged behind just for a beer?” Fischer asked as he stares at the bottle.
“It’s not beer, Fisch. It’s a soda pop!” Graf whispered as he took another drink of it while getting behind the bulkhead.
“Oh really?” Fischer said, swiping it from Graf and gulping down what was left, then handing it back to him. Everyone was in shock.
“Why you...never mind,” Graf looked away and tossed the bottle aside.
“Well, that’s surprising. I thought you would want to rip my head off for that. Good drink by the way,” Fischer commented and burped loudly
“Yeah well...you know what? It doesn’t matter, Fischer.”
“Hiding something, Graf?” asked Kraus.
“Nein, let’s open this. What should we expect?” Graf asked Fischer as he opened the door. Fischer walked by and answered.
“Oh, I shouldn’t expect much. Probably nothing but luggage, some items of importance, or just finding an automobile with a young unmarried couple having much more fun than they should have. But I expect nothing less than a...Ach Scheiße (Oh Fuck),” Fischer paused after stepping through the door.
Twenty feet in front of him were small bands of soldiers doing small tasks around wooden crates with different markings. They spotted artillery pieces that were strapped down, and a few vehicles. Upon closer observation the soldiers wore a mix of uniforms. One wore dark blue attire with a sailor cap with the marking of the US Navy. Next to him, was another wearing an olive drab green uniform and on his hat had the pin of the USMC. Another soldier wore a khaki brown uniform with the Montana peak hat of the US Army.
“Hey careful with the shipment. Don’t want those Brits to complain!” said the American soldier with a Brooklyn accent.
The most bothersome of all to Fischer was that they all had one thing in common. There was patch on their upper sleeves, yet he could not tell what it looked like. His heart started to race as he noticed that there was group of those men in front of him playing a game of cards.
“Hey, nobody is supposed to...be...here...” the American soldier spoke as he slowly paused and turned to see four unknown German soldiers at the door. The man across from him glanced up, surprised as well.. Another dropped his cigarette and his deck of cards. Quickly everyone else noticed them, their faces registering shock as the two parties stared at one another awkwardly.
“Uh...Guten Tag (Good day), Yanks?” Fischer uttered the words with uncertainty.
“We’ve been made, boys!” screamed a soldier with country western accent.
“Kill’em!” shouted another with a southern drawl.
Weapons flew into sight as they all revealed their pistols, bolt action rifles, shotguns, and even some self-loading rifles. As chaos erupted, Fischer shouted, “In Deckung gehen (Take cover)!” and fired his Mauser Nickle pistol, killing two soldiers in front, while the third American soldier knocked the table to its side and used it for cover.
Kruger, Kraus, and Graf rushed through the door, guns blazing as they took cover behind the stacked crates with Fischer. Bullets were flying as snaps and cracks were heard. The American soldiers ran for cover as well, after a few of them sustained wounds.
“I think you started a war with America, Fischer!” said Kraus, peaking out quickly to get a shot off from behind a crate.
“Nein! America started a war with us and we’re going to end it here!” Fischer responded, firing another shot from cover before reloading.
“I think...we just discovered something; they don’t want us to live and talk about it. Right now, I’m out of my element here. I’m a sniper, not a close quarter combatant,” said Kruger, as he scored a headshot then ducking as wood chips started raining around from the crate.
“We’d better find some better weapons and soon!” said Kraus, as he moved to new cover.
The skirmish began to take its toll as more soldiers garnered casualties while the K.W.S. squad slowly burned through their pistol ammo. The Americans were in the same situation, their ranks slowly diminishing as they tried to treat their wounds with no medic.
“Keep firing on them, men!” screamed a U.S. Marine.
“Those sons of bitches don’t want to die! Stubborn bastards!” a U.S. sailor called out, loading his Krag-Jorgensen rifle.
“What matters, boys, is that we defend the cargo! If they leave, we’re sunk,” shouted a U.S. Army soldier as he fired his Springfield M1903.
“Damn it all, it’s time we show the Huns what America’s teeth looks like! Get ready to rush’em and leave none to live!” an Army officer ordered. A few of them readied themselves as they waited for the signal. The officer blew the whistle and several charged in screaming with some of Marines shouting “Oorah!” as they moved.
“Here they come! Here comes the U.S. Military with donations!” said Fischer, as he readied his knife.
The moment the gun barrel stuck out, Fischer grabbed it and pulled in the soldier. He threw him to the wall of the large crate then thrust his knife into his throat then slashed it across. He snatched the Remington Model 8 self-loading rifle with an extended detachable magazine from the fallen soldier.
“I’ve never used a Selbstlader (self-loader) before; guess there’s first for everything!” Fischer thought as he quickly loaded the rifle. The others saw what he did and immediately stood fast.
Kraus was second as he pulled out his Boot knife. The moment he saw a barrel peer from the edge of the crate, he quickly grabbed hold, lifted it up, and moved in, plunging his knife into the soldier’s neck then pulling him out of sight of the others. Now armed with the Winchester M1907 SL with a ten round magazine and ammo, he loaded it but couldn’t find the charging handle or bolt handle.
“Where is it...wait, is it at the end?” Kraus pushed down the plunger at the end of the rifle, cocking it, now ready for action. “Interesting rifle,” breathed Kraus as he fired the rifle.
Graf got low and waited. The same fate would befall another unlucky soldier as he spotted the barrel across from the top, bayonet fixed. He too grabbed, pulled, then shot the soldier straight in the head, blood splattering all over him. The weapon he held was a Lee Navy bolt action rifle.
“Hey Kruger! I have a present for you!” Graf tossed the rifle to Kruger, then the ammo.
“That’s more like it,” He said with a devious smile then immediately started pulling impeccable shots as fast as he could.
Graf waited. This time he took a prybar from the floor. A Marine jumped over the crate and swung his shotgun around, but was met with a loud clang as the prybar knocked the shotgun to the ground. Then Graf fired with his pistol before finishing him off with one hack to the neck.
“Browning Auto 5 shotgun...very nice. And here’s the ammo,” Graf remarked, quickly taking the shotgun bandolier.
The attackers ceased their assault and went to find cover, continuing to lay down the fire. The squad stoped firing and gathered behind an automobile and crouched low.
“Okay, now we take a page out the Black Wolf of Mons strategy book,” said Fischer as he reloaded.
“You mean do what we did with the R.O.B and at Ypres?” Graf questioned.
“Ja, except the part where you almost got killed by a Gurka,” Kruger said, loading his rifle.
“At least we’ll be on the offensive. I can’t endure much more of this suppressing fire,” complained Kraus as he rubbed his ear.
“We move when I throw these Mills bombs. Bereit (Ready)?” Fischer asked as he cocked his rifle. Everyone nodded, a stern look giving their answer. Fischer pulled the pin on the two Mills bombs and hurled them over the car.
“Shit, Grenade!” shouted an American soldier.
“Take cover!” yelled another.
The moment the grenades went off three rushed out of cover while Kruger stayed behind providing sniper support and aiming for the soldiers on the catwalk. The trio dodged through the crates, surprising every soldier they saw before pulling their triggers.
Graf unleashed his full fury using his shotgun, pistols, and prybar. Kraus coordinated with Fischer, clearing every corner in the little maze of boxes and crates, while Kruger already delt with the catwalk sharpshooters and climbed on top of the crates for higher advantage.
The front line quickly changed as the K.W.S. soldiers were now advancing like never before, forcing the combined U.S. forces to slowly fall back. One of the soldiers ran to the officer amidst the explosions, screams, and bullets hitting everything in sight.
“Doggone it! They’re kicking our ass, Sir!” he said, as he ducked down behind a metal crate.
“I can see that, Private! This was supposed to be a simple mission!” As the Officer was speaking, he witnessed a small group of soldiers get cut down moments before a perfectly timed grenade wiped them all out and thrust them back violently.
“Son, it’s time to abort this mission. Get over to the engine and place the explosives,” the officer ordered, his voice somber.
“What? Sir, you can’t be...”
“Now, Private!”
The soldier saluted and ran off while the officer holstered his revolver and dashed for the telegraph room. He made it, as more servicemen are getting mopped up by incoming K.W.S. Forces. He put on the headphones and started keying the message.
“Liberty to Washington, the sled is broken Stop
Repeat, the sled is broken Stop
Small enemy forces attacking Stop
Commencing Emergency Plan Rocket’s Red glareeeeeeeee…”
The message was incomplete as the officer was face-down, dead and bleeding after getting shot in the head by Kruger. Fischer broke into the telegraph office and found the scene.
“Whoever he was transmitting to, I hope it wasn’t a full message. Otherwise...”
“Verdammt (Damn), that cola was good!” Fischer burped as he rushed back outside and returned to the action.
“Them bastards, ripping us apart! Get the MGs going, men!” one sailor calls out as two soldiers rush in carrying Colt-Browning M1895 machine gun on a tripod. Another soldier jumped behind a Maxim M1904 MG on carriage mount.
“Get the potato digger set up and fill’em full of lead!” shouted a Marine.
The machine guns opened fire, forcing Kraus and Fischer to take cover behind another automobile. Graf moved on the flank while Kruger goes prone and takes aim. At the same time, Graf unloaded his shotgun on the MG crew while Kruger sniped at the HMG user.
“This is hopeless! RETREAT!”
“Let’s get out of here boys!”
The American soldiers went into a full retreat. Several of them survived the ordeal as they ran through the metal bulk door on other side of the cargo hold and closed it behind them with a loud bang. Fischer, Kraus, and Graf checked the area while Kruger started to climb down.
“Alles klar (All clear). No sign of any threats,” said Kraus as he knelt down for a breather.
“Should we pursue them? I’m still not done with them, after all that!” Graf expressed his frustration, his shotgun was still smoking from the barrel and his prybar dripping red.
“Leave them. We’ve got to check this place out. See why they were hellbent on protecting this place and wanting us dead. Search their bodies for intel. I’m going on a photography spree,” directed Fischer as he pulled out his vest pocket camera. The squad split up and started looking. Fischer surveyed the area, taking photos of the bodies of fallen American soldiers, weapons, and even the cargo.
“Geeze, these Yankees fought hard. All for what exactly?” Graf asked as he used the prybar to open a crate labeled British .303.
“Doing something completely illegal like supplying the Triple Entente. So much for American neutrality!” Kraus exclaimed, as he cut a piece of fabric off the dead American’s uniform.
“Well, they could simply be protecting the cargo. Remember the U.S. is neutral and are making money off this war since they are the biggest industrialized nation in the Americas.” said Kruger as looked at a Dodge scout car and the armored Model T trucks.
“Sorry to say this Kruger, but that statement became invalid when they shot at us and even admitted their intent,” remarked Graf as he picked up a Winchester M1915 lever rifle.
While the three debated amongst themselves, Fischer was focused on photographing the aftermath. Corpses were strewn about the deck of the cargo hold, some missing limbs. He entered the telegraph room again. He walked over to the desk where the U.S. officer had died, his hand still on the telegraph key. Fischer opened a drawer and found a file.
“Hallo (Hello), what is this?” Fischer muttered to himself as he picked it up and opened it. The front had the stamp of the U.S. Military and the word “Confidential” stamped in red. He reads it out loud.
“By the approval of the Department of War and signed by the President. The creation of this unit has been approved and the request to send said unit to Europe on a training mission has been granted under the supervision of Brigadier General Lazlow and Commander Wellington of the Regiment Of Britannia (once he is informed upon arrival) as per the American Corporation Act of 1871.
The importance of this training mission is to have a better understanding of this new conflict raging in Europe and how to best be prepared for it. A contingency has been placed in case of an interception on the RMS Lusitania. Discretion is key to this success. Let no one know of our presence, for this is an order from the Department of War and the President. More details regarding the contingent of the troops, training, and expected training will follow”
Fischer was shocked by what he read and as he turned the pages, more details were revealed.
“These boys were trained how to use the weapons we used against them. This is bigger than we anticipated, he thought looking over the orders.”
Fischer kept reading pages of the files but eventually remembered what his mission was, and quickly placed the files on the table. He took pictures of each page then stashed the file, along with the camera, in his bread bag and rucksack. Then he rejoined the other three who now just waiting and talking.
“So how many were there that we just faced?” Kraus asked as he looks at a dead serviceman.
“Forty. The remaining ten escaped when they knew the battle had been decided. I would know since I was on top of the stacked crates,” said Kruger, cradling his rifle.
“That many? I didn’t even notice,” Said Graf as he accidently stepped on a hand.
“Yeah, I mean, I thought these guys would be better trained. Similar to a regular Tommy or us even,” stated Kraus as he picked up a S&W .38 revolver.
“You’re leaving too much to assumption. They would be trained, but that doesn’t mean they know how to fight until they survive their first battle. Look at us for example, we came from Prussian military tradition and training that taught us to be disciplined and ready for the worst; then the K.W.S. battalion trained us even further. Even for someone like me who lived in Wurttemberg, despite that I was born in Brandenberg, I have learned a lot with the K.W.S.” Kruger said as he rests his rifle.
“Same here. I was born there but moved to Saxony,” added Kraus.
“Same, but lived in the Rhineland,” Graf seconded.
“I’m saying is that these...boys were not ready for us. After I took care of the shooters on the catwalk and provided support, I witnessed the major difference. Kraus, you and Fischer were clearing and sweeping the corner and corridors as if you were in a trench with perfect coordination, covering each other’s backs. Graf, even though I had to save your sorry butt multiple times, you still went all out like a real Verrückte Hund (Mad dog) more so than at the R.O.B. base camp or at Ypres, showing that ‘Trench Trooper Training’ at its full potential. If the Sarge or the Mighty Lothar, heh, were here, those two would be extremely impressed with how we performed.” Everyone nodded in agreement with small grins while Kruger continued.
“While we had teamwork and our elite training, these poor saps didn’t think, besides attacking and attacking with more gusto. No coordination when they bunched up behind cover. They may have fought hard, but they died hard. They were not ready for a fight in this new conflict nor against hardened Kaiserliche Elites (Imperial Elites).” Everyone felt proud of what Kruger had said but they were still baffled at the number of dead in one place as the smell of copper began to permeate the air.
“Hmph, so we stepped into the belly of the beast and came out on top. I’ll remember,” said Kraus with pride in his tone. Fischer walked out of the office and back to the group.
“Actually Kraus, what we stepped in is the total conspiracy involving the American eagle and their secret involvement in this war. Ltc. Steinmetz would want to hear about this and--” Fischer was interrupted.
Suddenly a large fiery explosion erupted from the walls of the ship’s cargo hold, knocking everyone off their feet. Fischer hit the deck hard, then water started flowing like a waterfall. Kraus, Graf, and Kruger slowly got back on their feet.
CHAPTER 23
Abandon Ship
“Scheiße (Shit)! What the hell happened?!” Graf called out, as water rushed past his boots.
“Did our own U-Boat fire a torpedo before we even got off the ship?!” Kraus asked aloud before water splashed in his face.
“Worry about it later! Water is coming in fast! We need to leave, now!” Kruger frantically said. Graf rushed over to Fischer.
“Come on, get on your feet, spaßvoge (Joker), I got you buddy. Wir gehen jetzt (We’re leaving now)!” Graf helped Fischer up.
