Chapter 512: Crate Job
New York Harbor, half the traffic going to and from across the Atlantic came through here. bringing not just passengers and freight, but contraband hidden in unlisted crates; like the ones that had just arrived from Portugal.
A group of dockworkers pulled these illicit crates and transferred in the back of an automobile, clearing any inspection by the authorities and found themselves in a local pub, named "Das Vaterland" in a district of the city occupied largely by immigrants from the German world.
"Das Vaterland" wasn’t just a name, it was a statement. And now, thanks to the latest cargo, it was also a war room.
Once dropped off at the back of the pub, via the entry point reserved for shipping, the crates were dragged inside by some local workers. And then handed off to a back room, a residence by the looks of its furnishings. One completely unlisted as far as Uncle Sam was concerned.
But there was not just one man, and maybe his squeeze sitting in this hidden apartment, no there were five men, dressed like union men. Wool shirts, suspenders, dungarees, and a flat brim cap were their style.
Their skin, fair, their eyes, a mixture of blue, green, and hazel depending on the man. These were clearly German men, and when they cracked open the crates to reveal what was inside, they spoke a local dialect of the German tongue.
"My god... Is that what I think it is?"
A chuckle, followed by a jovial comment.
"Take a look, boys! Christmas came early, and you better give a special thanks to our friends in the fatherland for our new toys!"
What he was referring to was several stacks of Mp-34s, refurbished after use during the Great War.