Landing Craft LCP-349
Off the Coast of Veracruz
June 6 1939
1st Lieutenant Harley Williams was once again leading men into leading into combat after that mixer on Montserrat back in February. Unlike Montserrat this was going to be more than a single day operation and Williams knew it. The 3rd Marine Division had been selected along with the 7th Infantry Division had been tasked to take Veracruz. So far in the war against the Mexicans the US had been mounting an overland campaign out of Sonora, Chihuahua, and the Rio Grande and have been pushing the Mexicans back. Yet now it was time to take the city that had always been the key to taking Mexico City, Veracruz.
Operation Fury was going to be the third time the United States had assaulted the city in history. And if scuttlebutt was true it would be the last time. From what Williams was hearing the higher ups were planning to annex everything north of the Tropic of Cancer and turn Veracruz into an enclave. The rest of Mexico was going to be broken up into a half of dozen different nations and bared from having a military. Then again he had heard a lot of other tells of scuttlebutt about the fate of Mexico after this war. Some were far fetch where others were realistic. For the Texas born Marine officer it was far beyond his paygrade at the moment.
What snapped Williams back to the present as he was taking a moment to relax before he got thrown into the shit again was the sound of a large piece of artillery firing from in front of him. As part of the massive arms deal the Mexicans had made with the British were for a number of old BL 12 inch 40 caliber naval guns that the British had in storage and was just collecting dust. After some work to refurbished these guns they had been shipped to Mexico to be use as fortress artillery. Plans had been to put these in every major port in Mexico but the war had stopped that. The US knew about them but believed the guns weren’t operational yet, they had been wrong. But the crew manning the two operational guns out of the six that were in Mexico weren’t Mexicans. They were members of the British Army Group assigned to help training the Mexican Army.
Soon after the 12 inch guns opened up on the heavy cruisers that were supporting the landing, Mexican manned BL 60 pounders started opening up focusing on the landing craft that were charging the beach. “Lock and load!” Williams called out as 60 pound high explosive shells started landing around his landing craft. No one climbed down a cargo net at seat with a loaded fire arm. They were still 3 minutes out from landing. Williams pushed a 50 round drum magazine into his M1917 and pulled back the bolt. It was the only drum magazine Williams had with all of the other magazines being 30 round stick magazines.
The navy puke who was driving the boat yelled out, “30 seconds!”
“ONCE THE RAMP DROPS I WANT YOU TO MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASSES! I WILL SEE YOU ON THE BEACH!” Just as he said that one of the landing craft to his right when up in a major fireball taking a direct hit from a 60 pound gun. Then there was a series of whistle and the front ramp dropped. Before even the first man moved the landing craft was hit with a hail of machine gun fire. “OVER THE SIDE!” Williams screamed as he moved to jump over the side himself. Of his platoon of 28, only 7 got off the landing craft alive.
The sound of the water around him filled Williams’ ears as he struggled to get to the surface. He breeched the surface briefly and gasped in air before going back under water. Water that was quickly becoming blood red from dead and dying Marines. He pushed forward till he was finally able to get his feet touching the beach and he came up for air again. Pushing forward Williams looked around and made for a large landing obstacle. If gave him cover from the hail of British and Mexican fire. Looking around he didn’t see anyone he knew from his own platoon.
“COLOR GET THESE MEN MOVING!” Williams yelled when he saw the company’s color sergeant at an obstacle two over from his own. After taking a moment to view how things were going.
The Color Sergeant started yelling his orders. Williams took aim and fired his 1917 at what was moving targets. “MOVE!” He yelled after that burst of fire. He when up and started running again only to throw himself in the dirt after three seconds of running. Repeated a few times he finally got to the seawall. He looked out into the Gulf and saw one of the cruisers that was supporting the landings burning. The sea was filled with damaged or sinking landing craft and the beach was a cluster fuck. It was going to be a long day for Williams.