He’d tried to sound out Captain Walter on the topic and had been politely rebuffed. The captain was obviously a different man from the one he’d been before seeing the murdered Americans lying facedown and bloody in the field. That the captain had his own thoughts was obvious also from his eyes and the manner in which he turned his words and phrases. He conveyed that the Germans were totally correct in their support of the kaiser and the empire. But was there a hint of something else?
Yet what to do? There were other indications all was not well. The food, for instance. America was a land of plenty, yet the army was, to a large extent, existing on rations shipped over from Germany. Oh, there was plenty of ammunition and weapons, and they expected heavier uniforms and other equipment to be shipped over soon, but food? If the quality of the slop on his plate was any indication, they were in for a long, lean, and nauseating winter.
Good God, could they be here all winter? With this swill for food? It was even difficult to obtain water. Just the other day they’d been refused the use of a well by an old woman at a farm. When Captain Walter politely offered to pay her, the woman had spat on the ground and told the captain to go to hell. He had flushed and done what was necessary: his men were thirsty so they took the water while the woman’s angry eyes bored holes in them. When Sergeant Gunther offered her a few American coins, she’d hurled them at him. At that point, Kessel had threatened her and Sergeant Gunther had cuffed him on the side of the head, knocking him down and drawing blood. Welcome to America.
The 4th Rifles had received no replacements. Of the twelve hundred men who’d landed on Long Island only a few months ago, scarcely nine hundred remained fit for duty. Eighty had been killed and a hundred or so wounded. Another fifty were listed as missing. What did that mean? Did they fly away? He snorted. They had deserted, and everyone and his brother knew it. The officers, in a not very subtle manner, used the murder of the Americans to discourage further desertions, saying the Yanks would kill anyone who tried to come over, but it hadn’t stopped some of them from trying. A couple of would-be deserters had been captured, and the men of the 4th had been assembled to watch the hangings. What wonders that did for morale!
Weber heard the sound of mild cheering and wandered up to a group of men from his company.
“Ludwig, did you hear the great news?”
The speaker was Ulli Muller, a younger-than-average recruit from Saxony. A nice boy, he was generally considered to be not very bright. “No, Ulli, I haven’t. Please enlighten me.”
“It’s finally come through. We get a week in New York. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Sure is,” Weber replied jovially. He clapped Ulli on the shoulder and walked on. Sure it was wonderful. In a pig’s eye. Despite Ludwig’s earlier eagerness at the prospect, he was depressed. They’d get to see the ruins of Brooklyn and German cruisers blocking the view of the Statue of Liberty, the symbol of freedom. Rumors told him that Manhattan was a virtual ghost town. It would be difficult to square the current reality with his youthful memories of bustling crowds, colorful sounds, and marvelous smells. Perhaps someone would try to sell Ulli the Brooklyn Bridge.
The sound of laughter once again interrupted his thoughts. Ulli was bragging about how he was going to get laid once he got to New York. The humor of the situation overcame Weber’s bad mood. Ulli was such an oaf. All he thought about was women. “Ulli, you are nothing but a penis with suspenders,” Ludwig shouted. Ah, such innocence. Such depraved innocence.
Holstein and Schlieffen walked the garden slowly, as befitted men of their age. For Holstein in particular, walking was an unwelcome chore in which he indulged infrequently. He preferred instead to think, exercising his still-supple mind and not his aging body with its myriad aches and problems. This time, however, he had deferred to the chief of the Imperial General Staff’s suggestion that a little fresh air might be in order. Besides, the flowers that surrounded them, whatever they were named, were truly lovely.
“I take it, General, that you were present when the All Highest found out about it.”
“Certainly. It was delicious.” Schlieffen smiled tightly at the memory. It caused his pointed mustache to tilt upward, an effect that Holstein found almost ludicrous.
“And the kaiser’s reaction?”
“Apoplexy. Predictable apoplexy. He threw a tantrum.”
Holstein nodded. The whole court was in an uproar. Half the courtiers were outraged; the rest, like himself, thought the development hilarious. The kaiser had just found out that, war or no war, emigration from Germany to the United States was still going on unabated. Ships still took on hundreds of people each week and departed for Boston, Philadelphia, and other American ports. Not, of course, New York. And also not on American- or German-flagged ships. The vessels flew the flags of France or Denmark or Britain, among others.
It was an insult almost too deadly to bear. The fact that the kaiser’s people were still migrating to the land of his enemy during an actual conflict struck his pride like a lightning bolt. Too bad I wasn’t there, Holstein thought. It would have been wonderful.
The problem was the German bureaucracy. Although fully aware of the war, they’d never been told to shut down the processing of applications to depart; thus they continued doing what they’d last been ordered to do. Holstein chuckled. They were mindless twits.
The kaiser was not mollified one bit when he was told that stopping people from leaving German ports would not halt the migrations. People were also going over the border to France and out the Channel ports, or even through Austria to Trieste on the Adriatic. The only way to stop it would be to seal the borders, and this would outrage those other countries. Whatever the kaiser said or did, the emigration would continue. It was a hopeless situation and the kaiser was furious.
Holstein chuckled at the thought of the red-faced kaiser. “Ah my, the crown is such a burdensome thing.”
Schlieffen answered Holstein ’s comment with his own small laugh as he stopped to examine a vivid red rose. He knew better than to aggravate Holstein.
“But, dear general,” Holstein continued, “I hear more rumors that your army is having unexpected problems.”
Schlieffen sighed and straightened. Damn the man and his sources. Again it would do little good to deny or even obfuscate, but he would try. “All campaigns have unexpected problems. If we knew the future, there’d be no need for generals. Or for statesmen.”
“I hear there are desertions.”
“Some. It’s to be expected. Virtually all our rankers are conscripts and believe America to be the land of milk and honey. It was nothing that overly surprised us.”
Holstein was insistent. “But I understand the numbers are higher than pleasing.”
Schlieffen paused. That fact was being withheld from the kaiser. Why risk another tantrum and fruitless orders to halt desertions? How did the old bastard find out these things? Was everyone in Germany a spy for him? “True enough, but we think it has stabilized.”
“Even so, I understand that the number of missing is starting to equal the number of killed and wounded.”
“Well, since we haven’t fought a major battle in some time, I think that might be expected.” His mouth puckered in a line of worry. “Even without battles, however, the war seems to be entering a particularly brutish phase. There have been murders, assaults, sabotage, and other small incidents behind the lines as well as numerous small-unit actions along the front line. As a student of military history, I find it evocative of Napoleon’s problems with conquered Spain.”
Holstein chose another topic and probed. “Now that your army is over the one hundred thousand mark, is the navy still up to supplying it?”