Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

And now the beasts were turning in Wilhelm’s direction. What to do? His army was in full flight.

“General Mackensen, I suggest we find a safer place to conduct the war.”

Mackensen was shocked, “A retreat?”

The prince sighed. “Yes, it certainly looks like that, doesn’t it? We shall pull back and regroup. Those iron beasts are mortal and should run out of gas sooner or later and need to be refueled. Perhaps they will even break down. Meanwhile, we will figure out how to defeat them. If necessary, we will retreat down the coast to Santa Cruz or even Monterey where Hipper’s fleet can protect us until we are reinforced and resupplied.”

Assuming, he thought bitterly, his army stopped running before it reached Los Angeles.

Then another horrible thought intruded. Admiral Hipper was in San Francisco Bay. The admiral’s grand attack had succeeded, but now the game had changed. The prince needed to ensure that the fleet was intact, or at least strong enough to fend off the American warships now prowling the Pacific. Hipper must remain strong to protect the army and ensure reinforcements and supplies made it safely.

The prince turned to an aide. “Send a message to Admiral Hipper and inform him of our, ah, tactical withdrawal. Tell him he must sortie out of San Francisco Bay as soon as possible lest his ships become trapped.”

A most disconsolate Mackensen looked at him, “And what about Hutier?”

The prince sat down heavily as aides packed up their infernal papers. The American land monsters were coming closer with every minute. He could see someone standing with his head and shoulders out of a turret, giving directions. Why didn’t someone shoot him? But no, the insane fool led a charmed life.

It was time to go, time to retreat and time to fight another day. But what if Hutier did succeed? Then San Francisco would be theirs and the hell with the metal monsters chewing up the German Army. There was still a chance. It San Francisco was truly taken, there was no need for this days’ defeat by the metal monsters to be fatal.

“We will pray for Hutier’s success.”

Barricades had been thrown up across the streets leading south towards where the Germans had penetrated. The barricades were made up of cars, trucks, and wagons that had been tilted on their sides. Furniture had been added and stuffed in to make a wall maybe ten feet high. Where possible, soldiers had taken up flanking positions. The ad hoc defenses had been skillfully laid. The only problems were the lack of manpower and firepower. The headquarters had been stripped of all army and navy personnel and a number of civilians and retreating soldiers had joined the force. General Liggett estimated that he had perhaps a thousand men.

The main German force was coming up 40th Avenue, a straight road that led directly to the U.S. Military Preserve and the Golden Gate Cemetery. Before that, however, was the Golden Gate Park, and it was at the southern end of the park that the barricades were put up.

Liggett had taken direct command and decided they would try to funnel the German advance down the streets, rather than giving them a chance to fan out in the park and use their firepower and numbers to advantage. So far, it had worked, but because only a relatively few Germans had made it that far. Several Germans had been killed or wounded by the initial burst of fire. The wounded had been picked up by German soldiers under flag of truce. Now all the American defenders could do was wait for the Germans to get organized and launch a real assault.

A forward scout scrambled back from his position a few blocks in advance of the barricades. “They’re forming up, General, and it looks like at least a full regiment, maybe more. They’ll be coming down this street in a few minutes.”

At which point we’ll all be dead or prisoners, Liggett thought, and he saw the same on Admiral Sims’ face. Sims and the other naval personnel looked incongruous in their blue uniforms carrying rifles. Many looked like they’d never seen a rifle before. At least the sailors weren’t wearing white. That would have made them ideal targets.

Liggett nodded and the scout began to return to his position down the street. Suddenly, he wheeled and ran back.

“Oh shit, sir, here they come.”

Waves of soldiers in field gray uniforms were advancing up 40th Avenue, a close-packed mass of humanity in metal helmets. So far they were walking, but they would charge when they got close enough and overwhelm the barricade by sheer weight of numbers. Through his binoculars, Liggett recognized a German general—von Hutier? Well, he thought, the man at least had the courage of his convictions.

“Where do you want my men, General?”

Liggett wheeled and smiled. He’d been so engrossed that he hadn’t noticed the sounds of boots pounding on the pavement behind him, many boots.

“Douglas, it’s so good to see you. Luke, what the devil took you so long?”

Before either could reply, Liggett continued. “General MacArthur, place your men as you see fit, but please do so in a hurry.”

MacArthur looked down the street and gasped. “Fill in everywhere, men, just fill in!” He saw Randall and Taylor. “You two stay with me.”

“Oh Jesus,” Tim muttered, “Just what we need.”

The newly-arrived Americans had no artillery, but they did have machine guns, both BARs and Hotchkiss guns, along with some Browning weapons. Liggett could only stare and smile. What he would have given for those machine guns when the Germans were advancing up the valley.

“Now!”

At MacArthur’s command, hell broke loose from the Americans. Tim ran along behind his men and urged them to keep aiming low, just like they’d been taught. Tim stopped and aimed at a German. He squeezed off a shot just the way he’d done in camp and saw the man fall. He fired a second time and another German grasped his leg and tumbled. Look at that, he thought, the Germans can die just like anybody else. All around him, men were firing and Germans were falling.

It wasn’t one sided. Germans paused and fired their Mausers coolly and steadily and with deadly effect. Lieutenant Taylor screamed and fell back, clutching his shoulder. Tim started to reach for him when MacArthur snarled at him to keep shooting and let the medics care for his friend. As an aside, MacArthur told Tim he was now in charge of Taylor’s company.

The Germans stopped advancing. MacArthur sensed that this was the moment of truth. He leaped to the top of the barricade, firing his pistol at the Germans. Bullets whipped by him but none hit. MacArthur had a coldly maniacal look on his face, as if he knew it was not his destiny to die this day.

“Fix bayonets!” he ordered and thousands of men complied.

Again MacArthur fired his pistol in the direction of the Germans. “Now charge!” he yelled and jumped down to the other side, running forward, confronting the Germans.

Aw shit! Tim thought as he landed beside MacArthur and began to move forward.

Admiral Hipper was disconcerted and confused. The garbled radio message from the prince seemed to say that he should depart the bay, which was what he’d already decided. A fleet should never be landlocked any longer than necessary. The German Navy had proven its mettle by crashing through into San Francisco Bay. The American defenses had been destroyed and there was no reason to remain. A few barges or ferries carrying troops had managed to cross the bay, but others had been destroyed with great loss of life. Bodies of dead Americans floated everywhere. It was a great victory.