Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

Tovey watched with growing dismay as lines of Marines moved toward the hastily dug-in Germans. He wanted to remind Lejeune that the Germans were a whole lot different from the Mexicans, but, hell, the general already knew that, didn’t he? And what did Tovey know about fighting Krauts? The only ones he’d seen were along the Rio Grande and at a distance. The Marines really knew only one way to fight—attack. The time spent on the defensive outside San Antonio had irked them. They wanted to bring the fight to the enemy and now they were doing it.

The Americans advanced in orderly waves, but the orderliness didn’t last very long. Bullets ripped through them and machine guns cut them down like wheat. Some men fell in neat rows. Tovey could almost hear sergeants and officers screaming for the men to advance, keep advancing. The only way to safety, they yelled, was to kill the Germans. German light artillery, their 75mm cannon and some light mortars, dropped shells into the Marines causing more carnage.

The Marines stopped advancing and began to dig in, using anything to protect themselves from the scything fury of the German guns. Tovey glanced at Lejeune, who was pale with anger and frustration. He’d made a mistake and his Marines were paying for it.

He turned away. “We’ll reinforce the men at night and attack again at dawn.”

“It’ll be a bloodbath,” Tovey said. He wasn’t afraid of speaking his mind to the Marine general. Hell, when the war was over, he’d go back to being a Texas Ranger, not a soldier. “General, you’ve read your history. It’s like the Spartans at Thermopylae. They can hold us at bay until they run out of ammunition or we run out of men.”

“We outnumber them,” Lejeune said stubbornly.

“But not by that much. If that’s a full regiment, and I think it is, that’s maybe three thousand men and not three hundred like the Spartans had. We’ve got about twelve thousand, and not the half million the Persians had. I’ll bet we lost five hundred men in today’s attack and the Krauts not one tenth of that.”

“How the hell do you know so much about ancient history?”

Tovey grinned. “I may be a dumb-ass Texan but I’m a dumb-ass Texan who knows how to read.”

Several of Lejeune’s aides had moved away, waiting for the general to explode. It didn’t happen. “What do you suggest?” Lejeune asked softly.

“The Persians found a way around the Spartans and slaughtered them. That’s what we have to do. Keep their heads down by shooting at them and pretending to attack and find a way around this mess.”

“All right, Tovey, you’ve got all night to find me a way. But I still attack tomorrow. We can’t stay here until the Krauts decide to let us pass.”

The woman entered Tovey’s tent accompanied by a lieutenant who was waved out. She was light olive-skinned and petite. There was anger in her eyes. He decided she looked more Spanish than Mexican. If it wasn’t for the anger, she might be very pretty.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Martina Flores and I want to help you.”

“Why?”

“To hurt the Germans who caused all this. My husband was killed by Carranza’s men and I was held captive by the Germans and some American collaborators. They first took my husband and then took my pride. They kept me prisoner and their slave until I escaped and helped free some American prisoners. Then I returned here.”

Tovey nodded. American collaborators? Well, he supposed it was inevitable. Someone would always kiss the ass of the new playground bully. When they were caught they would hang, but first they had to be caught. And what did she mean by taking her pride? He thought he knew and decided not to ask. And what about free American prisoners?

She looked at him eagerly. “I grew up around here and know the area. I had family on both sides of the border. I can find you a path around the Germans.”

“And how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

She shrugged. “I will have to go with you to show the path to you. If it’s a trap, you can shoot me.”

“Fair enough,” Tovey said and went off to find Lejeune.

Two hours later, the column of Texans snaked its way south of the now stalled fighting and around the German lines. Dressed in men’s clothing, Martina guided them along a path that was barely fit for goats. Tovey now had no doubts as to the truth of her tale.

Slowly and carefully, they marched through the night. A couple of men were injured falling down the almost mountainous terrain. Martina was exhausted but didn’t complain. Once, she stumbled and he grabbed her arm to steady her and she ripped it from his grasp.

She glared at him and then softened. “I’m sorry. You meant well. It’s just that I’m not used to kindness yet.”

Dawn found them approaching a compound of several dozen tents. It was a supply depot for the troops defending the hill. Wagons and trucks were parked nearby and there were some more of their damned cannon. The men in the compound were facing the hills and didn’t notice the Texans approaching from the wrong direction.

On the other side of the hill, American and German artillery were dueling and they could hear rifle fire. Lejeune said he’d attack at dawn whether Tovey made it or not. Son of a bitch, Tovey thought, it was time to get moving. He noticed that Martina’s eyes glowed with a near-maniacal fury.

Tovey ordered his men forward at a steady run. The Germans continued looking ahead and not behind. They didn’t turn and see them until the Texans were almost on them. Screaming and howling, the Texans tore through the camp, shooting and killing as they went. Scores of Germans surrendered, while others ran in all direction.

“Up the hill,” Tovey ordered. Now they would take the main German lines in the rear.

They didn’t have to. Within minutes, German soldiers began to withdraw from their trenches and pour over the crest. They’d heard the fighting behind them and could see that their camp had fallen. The American Army was both in front and behind them and it was time to get the hell out of this place.

The Texans took up firing positions and now it was the Germans’ turn to die. Out in the open, Tovey’s men cut them down by the scores and then by the hundreds. Advancing Marines appeared over the crest line and joined in the slaughter. German soldiers began throwing down their weapons and holding their arms up high.

Tovey walked over and looked at the vaunted German soldiers. It was the first he’d seen them up close. Their field gray uniforms looked like they were good camouflage and their coal scuttle helmets looked like good protection. They appeared to be good soldiers, but not superhuman like people said they were. They bled and died like ordinary men. The ones who were trying to surrender looked terrified and some were crying, although a number looked furious. Their generals had betrayed them.

Lejeune found him. “Well done, Marcus. This is one Kraut regiment that won’t pester us again.” Then he shook his head sadly. “I just wish it hadn’t cost us six hundred men to do it.”

He found Martina staring at the carnage. The fury was gone from her eyes, now replaced by deep sadness. At first she’d wanted to accompany him on the attack and he’d threatened to use force to stop her. She’d relented and stayed behind, just not too far behind. He wanted to comfort her, but remembered how she’d recoiled from his inadvertent touch before.

“Enough killing,” she said softly. She turned and put her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and held her as she shuddered. “Where are you going now?” she asked.

“On to southern California. We’ll visit San Diego and maybe Los Angeles.”

“Then I will go with you, at least part of the way. I need to see some people and make sure they’re okay.”