“At least the enemy are withdrawing,” the naval attaché said.
Heinrich swallowed bile. “Captain Gruenwald, the enemy are withdrawing because they have accomplished their mission and there are no targets left which warrant risking a capital ship. Now, get down there and see what assets we have left—if any. Or get a rifle and make yourself useful. But in either case, get out of my sight.”
“Jawohl.”
The naval officer clicked heels, did a perfect about-face, and left. Heinrich’s head turned like a gun turret to his chief of staff.
“Report?”
“We got about ninety percent of the troops and support personnel off the transports,” he said. “Half the supplies, mostly ammunition. Very little of the food”—it had been in the last convoys—”and only about one-quarter of the motor fuel. We may be able to recover a little more from tankers sunk in shallow water.”
So much for the masterpiece of my career, Heinrich thought. An operation going absolutely according to plan, which was a minor miracle—until the Santander fleet showed up. It could have been worse. A day earlier, and they’d have slaughtered the entire army at sea.
Aloud: “Well, then. Immediate general order: All motor fuel to be reserved for armored fighting vehicles. The officers can walk or ride horses. Next, the reports from the other elements.”
This was a four-pronged invasion: his, down here in the coastal plain; an air assault on Nueva Madrid and points between here and there; and the two overland drives into the mountains on the Sierras northern and southern flanks.
“Sir. Brigadier Hosten reports successful seizure of the central government complex in Nueva Madrid, most of the personnel on the critical list, of the National Armory, and the refinery. The refinery will be operational within six to ten days. She anticipates no problem holding her perimeter until linkup with the main force. All the other air-landing forces report objectives achieved.”
Heinrich grunted with qualified relief. The rhythm of operations would be badly disrupted still, but at least he wouldn’t run completely dry of fuel when what he had on hand was gone. When he held the triangle of territory based on the Gut and reaching to Nueva Madrid, the bulk of Sierra’s population and industry would be under Chosen control.
The aide went on: “General Meitzerhagen reports that the northern passes are now secured and he is advancing south along the line of the railway. Resistance is disorganized but heavy and consistent. Also, there have already been raids on his line of communication.”
Heinrich grunted again, running a thick finger down the line of rail leading towards the central lowlands, with a branch westward along the Rio Arena.
“My compliments to General Meitzerhagen, and his followup elements are to secure the line of rail by liquidating the entire population within two days foot-march of the railways.”
The aide blinked; that was a little drastic, even by Chosen standards. Cautiously, he asked, “Herr General, will that not distract from our primary mission?”
“No. Santander can interdict the Gut, but they cannot land significant forces here—they don’t have enough to spare from the Union border. Hence, the outcome of this campaign is not in doubt, given the forces available here. For reasons you have no need to know, it is now absolutely imperative that we secure the rail passage across the Sierra to our forces in the Union. Guerillas cannot operate without a civilian populace to shelter and feed them. These Sierrans are stubborn animals, and I have no time to tame them by gentle means. Their corpses will give us no trouble except as a public health problem.”
“Zum behfel, Herr General.”
“And my compliments to Brigadier Hosten: signal Well done.”
* * *
“Why, thank you, Heinrich,” Gerta muttered to herself, tossing the telegraph form onto her desk.
That had belonged to one of the Executive Council of the Sierra until yesterday morning. There was still a spatter of dried blood across it where a submachine-gun burst had ended that particular politician’s term of office; it was beginning to smell pretty high, too. The windows were permanently opened—grenade—which cut it a little; it also let her listen to mop-up squads finishing off the pockets of resistance all across Nueva Madrid.