well.”
Mansfeld forced himself to speak slowly and to keep every inflection off his features. “Excellency, the Americans and Canadians have always outnumbered our Expeditionary Force. We have predicated the assault on our superior training, weapons and tactics. From the beginning, we struck first and pulverized one set of enemies before the next could come up and support them. We smashed the Canadians, hurled back the rest and hit the approaching American Strategic Reserve. They have repeatedly attacked us piecemeal and we have devoured their forces one by one. Finally, the enemy stripped reserves from critical coastal defenses. With those numbers, they have brought greater firepower to bear against us in Southwestern Ontario. But that is exactly the wrong place, Excellency. They must believe I desire Detroit. I do not, and I never have.
“Now we must move with speed, using our advantages while they squander their momentary gains. We will land in mass at Rochester. One third of the amphibious force will rush to Buffalo. There, they will encircle the US Fifth Army in the Niagara Peninsula, cutting them off from their supply base. The other two thirds will head east along the lowland route. Shortly thereafter, Kaltenbrunner will land on the Jersey shores and capture New York City. He will head northwest, heading up the Hudson River for Albany. The two amphibious forces will met, trapping US Army Group New York and US Army Group New England. Together with the US Fifth Army that will combine to over one million American soldiers in our net. It will be a monumental victory, Excellency, and it will be the beginning of our continental conquest. ”
“You speak glibly,” Kleist said. “Why not also speak Southwestern Ontario into the bag as well while you are at it?”
Mansfeld allowed himself a brief smile. “I have deliberately kept myself from giving General Holk the reserves he needed to reach Detroit. Those reserves will land in New York State. From there they will race unopposed to Buffalo and to Albany. The Americans should have kept more divisions back. Instead, they have put them in Southwestern Ontario where they will do them no good. I wish you could see that as I do, sir.”
Kleist glanced at his yellow pad on the table. He drummed his fingers, soon asking, “Once you land in New York, why won’t the Americans simply redeploy their excess numbers?”
Mansfeld shook his head. “Holk will attack in Southwestern Ontario. He will keep the pressure on them and cause them to fear for Detroit. Under those conditions, Excellency, it will take the Americans time to decide on the correct move. By that time, my speeding armies will have reached their destinations. It is inevitable.”
Kleist glanced at Wessel.
As he stood by the screen, the old Field Marshal cleared his throat.
“Do you believe General Mansfeld’s plan is feasible?” Kleist asked.
“On the surface it has some interesting possibilities,” Wessel said. “But I would need to hear the plan in detail before I pronounced judgment on it.”
Once more, Chancellor Kleist drummed his fingers on the table. Soon, he spread his fingers on the wood. “Get up, General. Take the pointer. Tell us the specifics of your plan.”
Mansfeld shot to his feet and strode to the computer screen. He accepted the pointer from Wessel. Ponderously, the Field Marshal went to his chair and sat down.
He had them, Mansfeld knew. Kleist worried about the coming assault. No doubt, the Field Marshal had his doubts. Before a great assault, fear and doubts always stirred and rose up. He would show them that he had the situation under control. The German Dominion had already achieved greatness this summer. Soon now, they—and he—would enter into the military halls of the gloriously victorious against amazing odds.
“First,” Mansfeld said, tapping Rochester, New York, “you should realize…” He proceeded to outline his plan and show them that he had everything under control.
From
2040, July 7-10. Beachhead. General Mansfeld carefully readied the assets needed for the daring Lake Ontario amphibious invasion. He lacked the shipping to move the entire GD Twelfth Army at once, and would need to control the lake for extended voyages and for supplies. Despite a large number of hovers, the majority of the men, machines and materiel would cross on impounded Canadian and American freighters, ore haulers, tugs and recreational craft. Some historians believe Mansfeld now operated on the old SAS maxim:
Despite hard weeks and months of war and constant attrition, a large number of Beowulf short-range ballistic missiles heralded the assault, striking targets along the American Lake Ontario shore and farther inland. In the predawn hours, the bulk of the GD XIV and XV air corps lofted, flying constant sorties and providing CAP protection for the ad hoc fleet. GD stealth craft and UAVs challenged several critical US strategic lasers. The UAVs took substantial losses while the stealth craft inflicted surprising damage to the sites.
Several hours after the barrage and led by daring Galahad hovers, the lead elements of GD Twelfth Army headed for the Ontario Beach Park shore of Rochester.
Captain Penner of the Canadian Air Force flew low over the lake’s water. At this height, his plane had a horrible tendency to dip. It forced him to concentrate harder than normal. He didn’t want to plow into the water.
GD ballistic missiles had cratered the runway in Buffalo. Others had destroyed several F-22s and a squadron of V-10s.
The captain flew an F-35A2, with advanced Harpoon missiles attached. Lieutenant Aachen was his wingman. They stayed low—a mere thirty feet above the choppy waves—and kept their radar off. Far to the rear flew American AWACS. This was suicidal being out here tonight. The sky was full of Germans, and the enemy hunted for aircraft like his.
An air controller gave Penner the word: finally, he was going to strike back. Penner popped up to one hundred and thirty feet before he flipped a switch. A moment later, a Harpoon Block II cruise missile deployed. It was an upgraded AGM-84. Since this was an air launch, the Harpoon lacked a solid-fuel booster. After leaving the Lightning II, the turbojet engine turned on, and the 12.6-foot missile with its three-foot wingspan shot across the waves. The Harpoon was a sea-skimming missile with active radar. It sped for the Canadian ore hauler forty miles away. The ship carried Sigrid drones and a few GD crewmen.
“I’m ready to launch another,” Penner told the control officer.
“Negative,” the air controller said. “We’re waiting to see if your Harpoon’s guidance system can crack GD ECM.”
“Roger,” Penner said. If the Harpoon failed to pierce enemy ECM, they would have to abort the mission or move closer into the heavily defended sea corridor.
Lieutenant Teddy Smith sat at the controls of his new Galahad hover. His radar and towed sonar array searched the predawn darkness for possible American targets of opportunity but more critically, he searched for American missiles heading toward his charges. Sergeant Holloway waited at weapons controls, his face as bleak as ever.
The sun would be up soon, and they weren’t even halfway across the lake yet. He still couldn’t believe his bad luck at getting shepherd duty for these wallowing tubs. The mismatch of Canadian ships carried a battalion of Sigrid drones along with a battalion of infantry. Their little flotilla was going to have to make several runs today, and C Troop would have to escort them to each shore.
Instead of a regular shell in the cannon’s chamber, they had an antiair round.
“Still all clear,” Smith said.
Holloway didn’t answer. He never did during combat unless it was absolutely necessary.
Well, at least he had a Galahad again. Smith had taken a lot of ribbing about losing a hover to a Great Lake’s sub. That was like losing it to the Loss Ness Monster.
Smith twisted his neck and heard something pop. At the same time, his air screen pinged an alert.
Behind him, Holloway sat up.
Smith stared at his air screen. “Do you see that?”
