This time Holstein could not suppress a smile. “An aging western gunfighter with a dubious reputation of somewhat epic proportions for shooting, drinking, and fornicating—although in what order I’m not certain. Would it not be an amusing sight to see the old man traipsing bowlegged down the Unter den Linden with his six-guns drawn?”
The kaiser considered it for a moment and then nodded. It would be amusing indeed. Quickly he changed the subject. “Enough of the American’s political stupidity. What of the British? What is this nonsense I have been hearing?”
Bulow almost squirmed. “All Highest, I am afraid it is true. The British government will sell war surplus to private enterprises who will then sell to the Americans.”
“Stop them!”
“We cannot, sire, and they will not help us. I was very unsubtly reminded that we helped arm the Boers and that their army is still fighting them. The British take shelter behind their laws prohibiting government interference in private enterprises. They also say that raising money through the sale of surplus will help pay the war debts that we caused them to incur. They are, of course, lying hypocrites, but there is little we can do.” At this time, Bulow thought but did not add.
The kaiser sagged. “And Canada?”
Holstein, the foreign secretary, responded. “The British proclaim themselves neutral and say that the Dominion of Canada, as a part of their empire, must also be neutral. Their conclusion that American ships cannot be denied access and egress via the Saint Lawrence and its gulf has some legal validity. The practical effect of this is that the arms the Americans are buying have a safe conduit into North American waters and, hence, into the United States. Unless we wish a war with England—a naval war that we would quickly lose—we cannot prevent this.”
The kaiser fumed. Damn the British. Their turn would come. Once this American venture was over, then it would be time to settle with the damned British. The kaiser sometimes found it hard to believe that the English royal family was of German stock and closely related to him. Why couldn’t they be reasonable like his cousin the czar?
“Well,” he said finally, “at least we have had successes on the military fronts, have we not? And was I not correct in demanding that we attack at New York instead of Provincetown or even Washington, as our previous plans suggested? And the shipping strike ruse? Brilliant!”
Schlieffen, chief of staff, smiled tentatively. He seemed to recall that it was his plan, and his ruse, but he too remained discreetly silent. “Yes, All Highest, we have. At this time we have landed one complete corps of three divisions. A second corps is approaching the harbor and will begin disembarking shortly. We have moved out of New York and into Connecticut, after taking all of New York City in a relatively bloodless manner. The unfortunate fires that destroyed Brooklyn have delayed us slightly, but we will make up the lost time.”
“Yet our armies have stopped advancing.”
It was an accusation, not a question, and Schlieffen responded carefully. “Yes, All Highest. Please recall that the initial force is now spread quite thin because of its myriad responsibilities. Sire, we have only about fifteen thousand men confronting the American General Smith’s large but inept force.”
“A shame so few were available. With more we could have crushed them,” said the kaiser. He knew that a large percentage of the initial force was tied down in occupation and administrative duties and in guarding other portions of the perimeter. Further reinforcements, however, would largely rectify that problem.
The kaiser nodded, apparently understanding. “Prisoners,” he said suddenly. “We have large numbers of American prisoners who can be used to unload the ships, can’t they?”
Schlieffen shook his head. “It has been discussed, but they are a sullen and mutinous lot. We are afraid they would work at best very slowly and, worse, sabotage whenever they could. We would also have to detail larger numbers of our soldiers to guard them while they perform their tasks.”
The kaiser persisted. “If they commit sabotage, or refuse to work, shoot them!”
“Certainly, sire, but our people there are afraid that some heroic martyr might still do something catastrophic to our efforts if given an opportunity. Perhaps some demented fool might even blow up a munitions ship. That, sire, would be a disaster.”
“And the navy?” Here the kaiser looked and spoke more deferentially to the imposing bulk of Tirpitz.
“Sire, we are still attempting to locate the American fleet. It is scattered but is doubtless trying to collect itself in a force that will enable it to attempt a fleet action. We have small units searching for it, but so far with little success. Other major naval forces are busy protecting the harbor around New York and our reinforcement convoys as they cross over. We have also sent several cruiser squadrons south to cause havoc in the American ports by bombarding them. We are confident that that will tie down many army regiments which might otherwise be sent north to fight us. In the meantime, our main battle fleet is ready and able to sink theirs, whether we find its hiding hole or it shows up to challenge us.”
“Do you think it will?” asked the kaiser hopefully. He had spent a fortune developing his new navy as an instrument of Imperial expansionary will. Now it was time to reap the dividends from that investment.
“Without a doubt,” assured Tirpitz.
Tirpitz too had read the work of the most prominent naval theoretician of the age, Alfred Thayer Mahan. Mahan’s beliefs were based on the primacy of the capital ships of the main battle fleets and the need for one navy to aggressively seek out and destroy an enemy’s main battle fleet. Tirpitz and the other senior officers in the German navy looked forward to the likelihood of the slightly smaller American fleet challenging the might of Germany.
The kaiser slapped his good right hand on the table. “Now that is what I like. Good, aggressive attitude. It has been too long since anyone challenged the British on the oceans. When we have destroyed the American fleet, we will be battle hardened and wise, and the British must respect us.”
The kaiser rose, signaling that the meeting was over. He shook hands and departed, as did the military chiefs. Bulow was left alone with Holstein, and he clearly did not like being with the Jesuit.
“Von Bulow.” Holstein smiled. “Have you been reading the foreign press? Some of the comments are quite interesting, especially the excerpts from the American papers.”
Bulow paled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Holstein chortled. “Of course you do. I particularly call your attention to the article in the Hearst papers that refers to the All Highest as a degenerate cripple. It also implies that the All Highest hurt his left arm doing something horribly decadent with it, such as manipulating the Imperial manhood.”
Bulow rolled his eyes. “Those articles are horrible, disgusting. Thank God the kaiser does not read such drivel, and I shall ensure that no one mentions it to him. There is no telling what irrational rage the emperor would fall prey to if he were not protected from such things. Frankly, von Holstein, I am surprised you even brought it up. It’s lewd and beneath you.”
With that, the chancellor whirled and marched out, leaving Holstein alone. Holstein stood silently for a moment, mentally reviewing the afternoon’s events. Then he smiled and departed as well.
CHAPTER NINE
“FIRST,” SAID ROOSEVELT, “on behalf of everyone here, I would like to commend you on the way you took charge of those poor lost New England sheep.”
Patrick Mahan nodded his acceptance of the compliment. The others in the room effectively constituted an American war council. Along with Roosevelt was John Hay, Secretary of War Elihu Root, Secretary of the Navy John Long, Gen. Nelson Miles, and, for the first time, Adm. George Dewey. Dewey had disembarked at Norfolk and had just received word to go to the Saint Lawrence. The naval representative at future meetings would either be Navy Secretary Long or Patrick’s eminent but distant cousin, Capt. Alfred Thayer Mahan. Patrick noted to himself that it was singularly unfair that he, as a brigadier general, should outrank his cousin, one of the foremost military minds the world had yet known.
Roosevelt continued. “The Massachusetts congressional delegation also praises your efforts, General Mahan, but insists that the late Colonel Blaney be made a hero. Politics, nothing but politics. We are issuing Blaney a posthumous Medal of Honor, which the brave fool’s congressman brother-in-law will accept. You will receive a formal commendation from the governor of Massachusetts, as well as our undying gratitude.”
John Hay led a brief smattering of applause. “Don’t worry, Patrick, posthumous medals are the worst kind.”
“Enough,” Roosevelt chided gently. It was obvious that the formidable John Hay was no longer just secretary of state. He was now the number one assistant and adviser to the young and inexperienced president. “I have been informed that the British arms will start being available to our soldiers in a few days. At first, it will be only a trickle, then a torrent. When our boys are properly supplied we will drive out the invaders! General Miles has been working on plans for attacks on the German defenses that will accomplish our goals. He will, when appropriate, depart here and lead those endeavors.”