Patrick looked surprised. General Miles had certainly risen in the esteem of Roosevelt in the brief time Patrick had been gone. But then Miles was the senior officer in the army, and if he wasn’t to lead, then who would? There had to be an effort to drive out the Germans, and for the time being at least, it appeared that Nelson Miles would command the American army.
Roosevelt looked squarely at Patrick, obviously aware that his mind had wandered. “We would like your assessment of what you have seen regarding the German invaders.”
As succinctly as he could, Patrick described what he had found out from his scouts and a couple of deserters. The force currently on American soil likely consisted of one corps of three divisions of about thirteen thousand men each. Patrick reminded them that the German army consisted of twenty-two such corps, although many of the divisions were significantly smaller. “They are in the process of reorganizing their total army into larger divisions. This is doubtless one of the newer corps with such large divisions.”
Overall, he noted, the regular German army totaled about half a million men, with another half million in active reserve. The average German soldier was a conscript taken for a three-year period of intense training and duty, and then transferred to the reserves for another fifteen to twenty years during which he trained with his regiment for one full month each year. Thus even the German reserves were much better trained than any American force.
The German officers were almost entirely professionals, and many careerists came from the Prussian homeland. They reflected the bleak and harsh environment that their medieval forebears had wrested from the original Slavic owners. The Prussian militarist was to Germany what the Spartan had been to ancient Greece—a dangerous and formidable foe with centuries of experience waging war against the best that Asia and Europe could field against him.
“General Mahan,” asked the president, “how many more men will they send?”
“Even though they have the potential to send a million men or more, I don’t believe that’s likely. There is one corps on our shores and another one about to disembark. I have been informed that two more corps are gathering in Germany and are being prepared for transport. That would bring their force to about a hundred and sixty-thousand men.” His source was Ian Gordon, who had given him the information less than an hour before the meeting. The British system of gathering intelligence was marvelous, Patrick thought. “Secretary Hay,” asked Patrick, “do you think the situation in Europe will allow them to send many more?”
“No,” Hay answered. “The situation there is too unstable, and they are so unloved by the other European nations.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Patrick. “Further, I feel that the two corps still in Germany will consist of reserves. As I stated, however, even their reserves are so well trained we may not notice any decline in their military skills. However, being reservists called up from civilian life, they might not wish to be here. That could affect their enthusiasm and morale. Additionally, the Germans do not wish to conquer; rather, they wish to exact from us just what they have asked for in the way of overseas possessions.”
“I agree with Patrick,” said Hay. “In Europe, wars are generally fought not to conquer a nation but to attain a goal. The German army will be here only long enough to achieve their goals. I cannot even imagine they would set up a puppet government to rule directly over a hostile population. Ultimately, the United States will rearm and be able to drive out the Germans. In simple math, please remember that the population of the United States is sixty-five million to Germany’s fifty-five million. In the long run, this could be decisive.”
“Which brings me to another point,” Patrick added. “In their past wars with France, Germany has shown little mercy to irregulars or insurgents. Raiders or guerrillas captured by the Germans will be executed summarily. I also think the prisoners of war they’ve taken will be used as hostages to guarantee our relative good behavior.”
Roosevelt’s face was stern. “That is a price we may have to pay. I cannot tell Americans not to strike back or defend their homes. No, I will not. Mr. Hay, please inform the kaiser through whatever diplomatic channels you may wish to use that we will hold his army responsible for any atrocities or massacres, and that we consider any American taking arms against Germany to be a member of our military.”
As Hay wrote himself a note, he thought it was an exercise in futility—that Roosevelt had a great deal to learn about his adversary—but he kept the thought to himself. However, there was a further point to be made. “Politically, it could be a disaster for the kaiser if his reservists were to suffer heavy casualties.” His eyes twinkled. “General Miles, you must see to it.”
Miles nodded. “I intend to.”
“Strange people, the Germans,” mused Roosevelt. “And they’re all ours to contend with, although, thanks to Britain, we are not totally alone. You should also be aware that the British have detached ships from both their home and Mediterranean fleets under an Admiral John Fisher. That force will be defending the isolation of the Saint Lawrence and covering our navy’s sanctuary.” He smiled thinly at the brief murmurs of approval. “Gentlemen, this meeting’s adjourned. A week from today will be Wednesday, the Fourth of July. Our Independence Day will be a solemn one, I’m afraid. God only knows how we’ll celebrate it. Patrick, I thank you for your dissertation. I would, however, like you to return to the invasion area and keep in further touch.”
“Yes, sir.” That meant he would not have any chance at a command, at least not for the time being. However, he would still be the president’s emissary and be involved as the army prepared for the attack against the invaders. Also, he might have a chance to stop off at a certain camp and see how Trina was doing.
While the others gathered their belongings to depart, it suddenly dawned on Patrick that Admiral Dewey hadn’t said a word. Why? Was something occurring that the admiral hadn’t wished to comment on or be drawn into discussing?
As Patrick retrieved his hat and walked toward the door, a Negro porter called to him. “General Mahan?”
“Yes.”
“Sir, a woman called on the White House phone and insisted you were living here and had to be reached. Fortunately, I overheard our part of the conversation and I remembered your name on the admission list for tonight.”
“Who was she?”
“Sir, she sounded Irish and very upset. She said that someone you knew, a Katrina Schuyler, had been burned in an accident and you should come as fast as you can.”
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER HEINZ SCHMIDT was unexpectedly commissioned as an officer, his world became a whirl: getting uniforms, finding out what a lieutenant was to do, whom to salute, whom not to salute, and just what the hell General Mahan wanted of him.
This was followed by a wild ride down to Washington on a commandeered private train where he, a young man who’d never been farther than twenty miles from home, was present in the White House and saw the great leaders of America. These included the high-ranking generals who made even General Mahan stand up straighter than normal. Heinz even saw the president, who seemed to acknowledge him and smile but did not speak to him.
This was followed by an even wilder train and horseback trip back up to New York, because a woman friend of the general’s was in some kind of trouble, injured or something. Burned in a fire was what he’d heard.
Finally, the trip ended at a small house outside Waterbury, Connecticut, which he later found out was rented by the woman they’d ridden to see. Patrick pounded on the door, which was promptly opened by a young woman in a drab dress who looked puzzled for only a moment.
“Well, thank God. What the bloody hell took you so long?”
Heinz was shocked. Patrick pushed the woman aside and entered, with Heinz following. “Damnit, Molly, in your message you forgot to say which camp you were at and where Katrina’d been taken. Do you know how many camps there are around here?”
The answer, Heinz knew from recent and frustrating experience looking for them, was a lot.
Molly softened and managed a small smile, which, Heinz realized, made her rather attractive. She had a good figure, full but still trim, and she had a nice smile and the hint of dimples. She was also very young, perhaps even younger than he. He straightened his brand-new uniform tunic and smiled.
Molly cheerfully acknowledged her oversight. “Well, perhaps I could have been a bit more specific, but you’re here now so it doesn’t matter.”