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POV of German Saboteur
5-January-1921
I concentrated my gaze on my target, which was nothing more than a group of British soldiers patrolling the interior of Ireland. They were marching along one of the dirt roads connecting the numerous farms in the area and they looked rather confident, since I could even see that they were chatting calmly among themselves.
''You shoot the officer. I will take care of the idiot at the back'' I said while looking at my companion, who already had his rifle ready.
We had acquired our own British Lee-Enfield rifles, which had been given the necessary modifications to install scopes with several magnification levels. We also used the usual British ammunition.
Amid all the chaos being generated by the Irish question, this would simply be another drop in the enormous bucket of hatred that had slowly been filling against the English.
We had entered Ireland with the help of the Irish themselves after they supposedly stole one of the merchant ships belonging to the commercial navy of the Baltic Duchy.
But that was nothing more than another of Karl's tricks.
He only wanted an excuse crude enough to distance himself from any responsibility that might arise from our participation, since that ship had arrived loaded to the top with British weapons and ammunition.
Several arms factories had begun manufacturing their own copies of British rifles under the strictest secrecy, and afterward they had loaded them onto that ship to deliver military support to the Irish rebels.
The intention was quite simple: to make them bleed the British as much as possible by taking advantage of the enormous social problem forming in Ireland.
The ammunition had been like throwing an enormous bucket of gasoline onto the conflict.
The Irish forces had gone from being occasional guerrillas, who simply tried to harass the British through short and sporadic exchanges while constantly trying to steal their arsenals, to becoming a much more organized rebellion.
Until then, they had been slowly expelling the British from the south of the country, where the British had practically no support among the local population.
But now, thanks to the enormous quantities of ammunition we had sent them, the Irish had enough margin to fight in a much more open manner.
That was already beginning to show.
The small skirmishes had turned into much larger clashes around some cities where the British garrisons were trying to maintain control, as well as several important ports.
Supposedly, the shipment of another cargo similar to the previous one toward a port controlled by the Irish was also being negotiated, while the British did everything possible to prevent them from getting even more support.
Apparently, a good part of the money came from Irish Americans who supported the creation of an independent Irish State. They had sent several million dollars to finance the Irish Republic and strengthen its position while it tried to negotiate with the British for the formation of its own State.
''I am ready'' I said while settling the British rifle against my shoulder.
''Fire… fire… fire'' my companion ordered.
We both fired practically at the same time.
Two seconds later, we watched our respective targets fall onto the white snow.
Panic immediately seized the British patrol. They had seen their officer fall and did not take long to scatter, desperately looking in every direction while some began to run.
''Fire at will'' my companion ordered.
And so I did.
Slowly, I placed the sight over the backs of the fleeing British soldiers and began to fire. Each time I pulled the trigger, I waited a few moments before changing targets and watched as one of them suddenly fell forward with a bloody hole in his back.
''Come on. We have to move. Let some of them escape and raise the alarm. The fewer patrols they want to send through this area after this, the better for us'' my companion said while hiding the rifle inside a bundle of straw he was carrying with him and beginning to walk toward one of the nearby Irish villages.
I did the same.
I took the bundle of straw I carried with me, slipped the rifle into it and hid it before beginning to walk.
Instead of using the typical camouflage we should have worn over the snow, composed mainly of white tones and some gray patterns, we dressed like simple Irish peasants.
We had stolen the clothing a few days ago from a farm isolated enough to do it without raising too many suspicions.
We had already been infiltrated inside Ireland for quite some time.
During that period, we had mainly devoted ourselves to harassing British patrols whenever an opportunity arose because, in truth, our work consisted of making that conflict as bloody as possible for both sides.
On paper, we were helping the Irish, coordinating some basic aspects of their rebellion, especially matters related to supplies, reconnaissance and organization.
But our true objective was to ensure that both the Irish and the British bled.
That was why we had orders to attack practically any British patrol we managed to locate.
Each attack provoked reprisals from the army and the English police forces in the area. Those reprisals normally ended up striking Irish villages, which in turn generated even more resentment among the population.
Then came another Irish attack in retaliation.
And then another British punishment.
Thus that circle of hatred continued turning, with blood running again and again, without it mattering too much which side was bleeding at any given moment.
Walking along the road, it did not take us long to head toward the place where we were hiding for the moment and, after a few hours of marching, we managed to return without any trouble. We simply began reorganizing ourselves together with the rest of our operational network in Ireland.
''We eliminated around six soldiers and one British officer in this area. It is likely that the reprisal will come through the surroundings once the survivors explain to their superiors what happened'' my companion said while pointing on the map to everything we had done during our hunting mission that day.
''Good. We will have to move soon. With this, we have already reached twenty-three this week, so the British will surely send a response before long. We will have to move farther north and seek more problems with the English in that area'' said our officer in command of the operation.
''We will have everything prepared for when that moment arrives. We will begin preparing the packs'' I replied, nodding at the orders he had given us.
''Yes, move with urgency. We will have to abandon this village soon. This place is already compromised. I will speak with the members of the Irish resistance so we can continue moving north. Ideally, I would like us to be in that area as soon as possible to see whether we can carry out the sabotage and assassination missions against important figures, which are the true objective of this entire operation'' our officer said while moving a finger across the map toward Belfast.
''It is a rather long road. We are almost at the same height as Dublin. We will have to cross hundreds or even thousands of small Irish villages if we continue that way'' I replied while looking at the map.
''Well, those are our orders, as you can understand. We have to cause havoc, give the British back part of what they did in Riga. And what better way than placing some good explosives inside a factory and blowing it up during the night, leaving many people without work? Or shooting one of their local political authorities, or perhaps some high-ranking military figure'' our officer said while continuing to review the map, searching for the route we would use to keep moving north.
''Understood'' my companion replied.
And we began to prepare.
Without wasting a single second, we began gathering all our equipment and placing it inside a cart pulled by a mule.
As always happened whenever we had caused enough trouble to guarantee some kind of English reprisal, we did not take long to abandon the place and begin moving north again.
We had contacts with many of the Irish networks and always justified our movements as attempts to coordinate the rebel troops operating in the north, where it was much more difficult to transmit messages between the different groups.
The English patrols constantly interrupted communications because of their presence, while most of the telegraph cables had been cut by both sides to prevent the enemy from using them.
And more than one cable had been cut directly by us with the same intention.
The fewer communications there were, the easier it became to take advantage of the chaos produced by the constant gaps in information between the different forces.
The next day, we began moving north.
We advanced alongside the slow mule that served to transport our belongings, traveling along the roads while searching for the next Irish cell we could use to cause problems for the English.
The day, besides being cold, seemed like it would pass without any surprises.
But fate always found some way to fuck us.
While advancing along the road, we came face to face with a group of Englishmen we had not managed to detect earlier because of a hill that blocked our vision. In addition, the two men who had been acting as lookouts had just returned to switch shifts with us, so we had to improvise using something we had been practicing for quite some time.
''God save the King, soldiers'' our officer said with a Manchester accent while we tried to continue along the road.
''God save the King…'' the British officer replied, looking at our superior with some suspicion.
We tried to pass beside the patrol without drawing too much attention. We greeted them by lowering our heads slightly and taking off our caps, but before we could move away, the English officer spoke again.
''What are you doing around here?... Are you from England?'' he asked.
''Of course… Well, unfortunately, we had been told there might be work here. You know how things are back in our homeland with all the unemployment trouble, so we tried to see whether it would be possible to dedicate ourselves to farming around here. But it seems whoever gave us the information lied to us and now we are returning north. The Irish are furious and have already tried to kill us'' our officer replied, maintaining that English accent he had been practicing for quite some time.
''I see. You were in the army, I suppose. Is that right?'' the officer asked while pointing at us with a finger.
''Yes. Our last deployment was in the Baltic'' I replied.
The others nodded.
''A load of shit… From what I heard, that was a real headache. Well, I am sorry to be the fellow bothering you on your way back, but I have orders and need to inspect everything you are carrying. The Irish are armed to the teeth'' the officer said while pointing at our cart.
''Of course… As you can understand, we are also armed. Otherwise, those Irish pigs would have already killed us'' our officer replied while taking out one of the rifles hidden among the straw.
''Bloody hell… Sorry, but we will have to take you with us to verify who you are. It will be quick. We will check your identities and then you can continue'' the English officer said.
''Yes, no problem. Truthfully, I would rather be surrounded by British soldiers than by Irishmen'' our officer replied.
The Briton observed our rifles, but did not investigate too much.
Even so, while the Englishmen began escorting us toward their camp, we noticed our officer's signal.
It was the order.
We had to finish them.
From one moment to the next, the calm atmosphere and occasional conversations disappeared.
Almost at the same time, all of us moved our hands toward our waists and drew the revolvers we had stolen from the British officers we had been killing during our operations.
In barely a second, I had the barrel aimed directly at the neck of one of the guards.
The man barely managed to turn his head toward me.
I saw his pupils dilate completely just before I pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore his neck apart.
I immediately aimed at another soldier who was trying to free his rifle from its strap. Before he could do it, I fired twice into the back of another man while, around me, a succession of revolvers detonations erupted.
Everything ended in barely a few seconds.
When silence finally fell, only dead or agonizing Britons remained on the road.
We had been seven against ten and, even so, we had managed to prevail quite easily thanks to surprise.
''Bloody traitors… working for the Irish'' the British officer growled while trying to spit at us. He kept one hand pressed against the holes in his body.
''The Devil of Masuria sends his regards'' our officer said while aiming at him with the revolver after reloading it.
''Fucking Jerry…'' the officer managed to say.
A bullet pierced his skull.
Then several more followed.
''Finish them off. Make sure none of them are still breathing when we leave'' our officer ordered while beginning to search the English officer's pockets.
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