Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

“I am honored,” said Hutier who currently commanded a small corps in Mackenson’s army. Taking over from von Seekt would give him almost an independent command.

Honored but not surprised, Hutier thought. Von Seekt, a solid and professional senior staff officer had requested a field command and been given it. He’d been in charge of the two division corps moving up the California coast and, until a few days ago, had been doing a credible job. However, he had stopped short at the Salinas River and hesitated to cross it until he’d brought up boats and heavy artillery. This delay had taken the better part of a week. The crown prince, on the other side of the mountains, had no reason to doubt the need for the halt until it was pointed out that the river was only about a hundred yards wide and could have been waded. Von Seekt quickly became the butt of numerous jokes from both the Germans and the Americans; thus, his “promotion” to Berlin.

“There are those who think I am too cautious,” the prince said, “and they are at least partly right. I am seriously constrained by the fact that my army must be fed and equipped and that those supplies must come a very great distance. And we all know that a defeat on the field could be catastrophic; hence my desire to progress slowly and cautiously. Although,” he shook his head and laughed, “not quite as cautiously as von Seekt.”

The prince rose and stood before a map. “We are now only a hundred miles from San Francisco and what the Americans are developing into a formidable series of defenses, and those defenses must be taken. General Hutier, you have quite a reputation. It is said you are aggressive and wish to strike, like a panther. Correct?”

Hutier smiled at the compliment. “Indeed, sir.”

“They say you have devised a way of infiltrating enemy lines and bypassing strongpoints, which will enable you to pierce Liggett’s works.”

“I am confident the tactics will succeed.”

The prince was pleased. “I wish to rein in your predatory impulses until the right time, which will be when we attack San Francisco. Until that time I wish you to curb your ambitions and coordinate with the armies moving inland along the Great Valley. When the time comes, your corps may just be reinforced into an army, and become the spearpoint which we will use to kill the Americans. Until then, we must all restrain our impulses to take precipitous actions against Liggett’s army, however tempting some targets may be.”

“How large do you estimate that army, sir?”

“According to our intelligence experts, Liggett has approximately fifty thousand, but most of them are still poorly trained and even more poorly armed. The destruction of the last bridge to Seattle was a devastating blow and one which will cripple them. They will have some advantage by being in defensive positions, which is why you will be needed to rupture those defenses.”

“I’m honored and gratified for your confidence in me, sir,” Hutier said softly. He was barely able to hold back his emotions. “I will not fail you or Germany.”

“Until the happy day that we can bring this campaign to its ultimate conclusion, Hutier, I must be cognizant that we are halfway around the world from Germany. In the last war, if I needed reinforcements, six divisions would be put on trains and be in the lines in a matter of days. Now it would take six or more months to get them to California and then I would be unable to feed and supply them. Therefore, I must constantly remind myself that we must fight with what we have, and not what we wish we had. Some additional forces are en route, but not in great numbers. We have three divisions in Hanoi, but they are to be used to take Hawaii and the Philippines if the Americans do not see reason.”

He declined to add that the German force would not leave Indo-China until the American Navy had at least been contained. There had been too many sinkings by submarines and now by American light cruisers working as surface raiders.

The crown prince stood, and Hutier followed quickly. The meeting was coming to an end. “Good luck, von Hutier. We will need you in the coming weeks.”

“Those look like pie tins,” Tovey said genially to a Marine Sergeant named Daly. The rugged Irishman grinned.

“These helmets protect my head a lot better than that bad excuse for a cowboy hat you’re wearing, General.”

Tovey laughed. Lejeune now had seven thousand Marines in the lines around San Antonio and, so far, the Mexicans hadn’t been able to make a dent in them. Word had it that Mexican President Carranza himself had come up from Mexico City to see San Antonio fall and was extremely angry that it hadn’t happened yet.

Even though they were holding out, Tovey was still worried about the ultimate outcome of the fighting. San Antonio was virtually surrounded. Carranza poured more and more men into taking the city and the Alamo.

Lejeune slid in beside Tovey. Their command trench was only fifty yards behind the main American trenches and some would argue they were way too close to the front lines. Others would argue that there wasn’t all that much to the defenses and that almost everything had become the front lines.

Mexican artillery, never very good or numerous, opened up and a number of shells landed near them. Everyone prudently kept their heads down and, as debris rained on them, Tovey began to wonder if his men shouldn’t get helmets, too. Sergeant Daly read his mind.

“See what I mean, General?”

Tovey shook the dirt from his campaign hat. “Up yours, Sergeant Daly.”

“Here they come,” someone yelled, followed by, “Oh Jesus, look at them all!”

From everywhere they could see, great waves of humanity poured out of the Mexican lines and rushed towards them. The Mexicans yelled and screamed while officers waved swords and pistols, urging them on.

Rifle and machine-gun fire from the Americans cut huge swaths in the Mexicans, but they kept coming, filling the places of the dead. They reached the barbed wire. Men with cutters worked frantically and brave Mexican soldiers used their bodies to crush down the wire. It worked. First in a trickle and then in a flood, the Mexicans poured through, screaming hatred and shooting wildly.

Firing was almost at point-blank range. Daly glared at Lejeune. “Begging both the generals’ pardon, but I don’t much feel like dying in no fucking hole in the ground.”

“Fucked if I do either,” said Tovey as he lurched out of the trench and headed forward.

Daly leaped across the main American trench and waved his rifle over his head. “Come on, you sons of bitches. You want to live forever?”

Marines and Texans climbed out of the trenches and, bayonets fixed, advanced slowly towards the Mexicans.

The lead Mexicans were shocked to see the thin line of Americans coming at them, their faces contorted in fury. Their slight hesitation was fatal. The Americans fired once more at point-blank range, dropping the Mexicans into more piles of dead and dying, and then took them with the bayonet.

The Mexicans were not used to bayonets, and had little training with the primitive but psychologically fearsome weapon. When confronted with a bayonet charge, most reasonable men will look for ways to get themselves elsewhere, and the Mexicans were no exception. Those in front who’d survived the withering rifle fire either hacked futilely with their own bayonets or tried to get away. However, the press of humanity pushing behind them wouldn’t let them retreat. Many of the Mexicans turned on their American tormenters and fought back desperately while others tried to claw their way back to safety.