Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

The Germans were less than a hundred yards from the American soldiers, who continued to pour fire into them. That so any of the Germans remained alive was a miracle and likely due to the tendency of soldiers to fire wildly in battle.

And then the Germans were in the trenches. Scores of screaming enemy soldiers poured over the American defenses, shooting and stabbing with bayonets and trench knives. Luke had his pistol out and shot a German in the chest. The man fell back, a look of shock on his face. Another German lunged at him with a bayonet and Luke fired quickly, hitting him in the leg.

“Get out, sir!” screamed Ward. He motioned to a communication trench that led to the rear. American soldiers were already running down it.

Luke picked up a Tommy-gun that someone had discarded. A helluva lot better than a pistol, he thought. He backed his way down the communications trench with Ward squeezed at his side. A pair of Germans tried to follow and Luke fired a burst. One dropped and the other ducked.

Ward gave a gurgling scream and fell. A bullet had blown off his jaw. Luke picked him up and carried him over his shoulder to the secondary trench line, a few hundred yards behind, while other soldiers covered them.

He arrived exhausted and handed over his bloody burden. A medic took Ward and laid him on the ground. “Sorry, sir, but he’s dead.”

Luke was about to reply, when something struck him in the chest and he collapsed to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. The medic checked him quickly. He laughed bitterly and handed Luke a piece of metal.

“Your lucky day, sir. You got hit by a spent bullet. Otherwise you’d be lying there with your buddy.”

Yeah, Luke thought as he put the distorted bullet in his pocket, my lucky day. We just lost the second of three defensive lines and I’ve got a piece of lead for a souvenir.

A few hours later, Luke stood before Liggett and Sims. The general glowered at him in mock anger. “Just once I’d like you to report to me wearing a clean uniform. Good lord, is that blood?”

“It is sir, but not mine.” He told them about carrying the dying Captain Ward away from the trenches.

“That was well done; however tragic the results, but your adventure was ill-advised. Had you been killed I would have lost a valuable officer. Had you been captured, the Germans would have been given a key member of my intelligence staff. They would have interrogated you, even tortured you, in order to find what you knew. In plain English, your presence in the trenches was an act of consummate stupidity.”

“Yes sir.” Luke declined to comment that he’d realized that the instant the shells began to fall. He also didn’t add that he’d had no plans to be taken alive. However, he did wonder if he had the courage to kill himself.

“You will promise me that you will not go near the front lines again.”

“Promised, sir. I will absolutely stay away from the front lines.”

Liggett’s expression softened while Sims remained impassive. “Unless, of course, the front lines come to you, which could happen if the Krauts breach our third and last line of defenses. If that happens, your being captured and tortured for information will have become moot since the city will have fallen. Also, I’ve heard it that you killed a dozen Germans while covering the retreat. Any truth to that?”

“I killed maybe two and wounded a third.”

Liggett actually smiled. “We’ll let the rumors swirl. We need a hero and if a little exaggeration makes you qualify, we’ll let it happen. Now, get the hell out of here and go clean up.”

He was on his way to the officers’ quarters when Kirsten ran up and grabbed his arm. Her eyes were red from crying.

“You are a fool, a complete idiot,” she said as she first grabbed his arms, then let go and began pounding on his chest. “What on earth were you thinking of, risking your life like that? They gave you rank and responsibility so you could stay safe and use your brain, not your gun.”

“I’m sorry,” he said lamely. A scolding from a three-star general he could endure. Kirsten’s wrath, never.

“You almost made me a widow a second time and we’re not even married yet.”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“Yes, but not until after this is over.”

“And why aren’t you at the hospital?”

“Because they don’t need me right now. There’s been an influx of trained personnel from up north, so now I’m back to being a clerk, cataloging the wounded and trying to notify their families. It’s important, sometimes even heartbreaking, but it can wait a few hours.”

She had taken his arm and was steering him away from the Presidio. “Where are we going?”

“To the apartment. You can clean up, get fed, and I’ll let you play with the dog and cat.”

Luke leaned against her. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Still, he grinned. “Can I play with their owner?”

The long line of trains from American occupied Monterrey moved slowly through northern Mexico and then into Arizona where they linked up with the rail lines heading to San Diego and Los Angeles. They moved slowly because not all Mexicans agreed with their new government’s decision to allow the American Army access to their trains and railway system. Isolated pockets of Carranza’s men still remained and, allied with small German units, disrupted the American advance by blowing up tracks. Some of the officers and men on the trains referred to the trains as long, slow targets. Others thought of worse names as they waited for the tracks to be repaired by the repairmen they’d brought with them.

Marcus Tovey had originally thought he’d remain in Mexico as part of the shrinking garrison that occupied Monterrey. The city was hostage to Mexican good intentions and, so far, the Obregon government had given every indication that it was going to obey the new rules.

It had been somewhat of a surprise when Lejeune had selected Tovey’s force to accompany the First Marine Division on its journey to southern California. Lejeune had laughingly informed Tovey that he considered the Texas Ranger and his men to be worthwhile additions to his force. “You people are damned good fighters. Almost good enough to be U.S. Marines,” he’d added.

Other caravans of trains were forming and several Army divisions under Pershing were almost ready to move west. It would be a long, slow process, however. Whatever was going to happen to San Francisco would be long over before any substantial American relief force from the south could get near the place.

The train lurched to a halt and the men spilled out, their rifles at the ready. In the distance they could hear the snap of rifle fire and the chatter of machine guns. Someone was taking a stand near where the right of way narrowed as it went though a canyon.

The Texas Brigade was on the fourth train, which meant it was a long ways from the action. A number of horses were in a car a few back. Tovey grabbed one and rode bareback towards the front. It felt good to be mounted. Hell, he was a Texas Ranger and belonged on a horse. He trotted forward past several long trains and hundreds of dismounting men. It was obvious that something serious was happening.

General Lejeune spotted Tovey. “Germans are to our front. Goddamned Krauts have taken over from the greasers and are blocking the road. Worse, it looks like a solid regiment. I’ve ordered an immediate attack.”

The rail line ran through a notch bordered by rugged hills. The Germans were at the top. Their trenches were scars on the hillside and they were firing down at probing Marine units. Nothing was going to move down that rail line until the Germans were kicked out.