“And failed,” snarled Schlieffen.
For the kaiser, the argument was the last straw, and he lunged, screaming at Tirpitz. “Get out! Get out of my sight. Get out of Berlin and get out of my navy. Goddamn you, you destroyed my navy!”
Tirpitz lurched to his feet and shuffled in a half run out of the room. With his departure, there was a sudden and not unwelcome silence. Well, Holstein thought, who will be next to feel the Imperial wrath and the Imperial need for someone to take the blame?
Kaiser Wilhelm had passed that point. He seated himself at the head of the table and wrapped his cape about himself as if in mourning. “What to do now, gentlemen, what to do?”
Schlieffen jumped to his feet, his face reddened with scarcely repressed anger. “All Highest, what we will now do is what we should have done all along. Depend on your army, not your navy. The army has always been successful and can still be successful now. We waited too long in our forts for the Yanks to see reason, and we are paying for our delay. Now we must fulfill the original plan as best we can: first by attacking, defeating, and destroying their army, and then by taking Hartford and Boston while we still have the resources. The alternative, All Highest, is to surrender.”
The kaiser was stunned by the outburst from the normally tightly controlled Schlieffen. He was also appalled at the thought of losing an army; he would be shamed before the world. “You can retrieve success from this fiasco?”
“Yes, All Highest.”
“When?”
“The moment you give the word. We have planned and prepared for this contingency from the moment we landed. With regrets, sire, we did not fully share von Tirpitz’s confidence that he could control matters so vital to us. We have sufficient resources for at least one toss of the dice. It will be enough for us to win. And, I must hasten to add, we must do so while we are confronted by only one American army. The others that are being trained, some as near as Boston, must not be permitted to develop to the point where they can do damage to our cause. We must strike now and with everything we have in our North American arsenal!”
The kaiser nodded. It would be now.
Blake Morris and Willy Talmadge eyed the large farmhouse and made an unavoidable decision. Despite the presence of Germans in the vicinity and the likelihood that the house had been spared for use by the Germans, they would enter it and take refuge. It was getting just too damned cold out. Blake had no idea where the remaining few others in his group were, or if they were even alive. Now it was just he and Willy and a sack of dynamite. What a helluva note.
They made it to the house unnoticed and climbed through a basement window into the packed-earth cellar. It was still colder than Blake would have liked, but it was fairly dry and the walls of the house blocked the wind. The cellar was a honeycomb of small rooms for storage and work, and there was no problem finding a place to be comfortable. They dug a hole for latrine purposes and prepared to spend the next few days in relative comfort until they could decide their next move. Perhaps, Blake thought, it was time to go back through the American lines. He had a feeling that his effectiveness here was about over and he should call it quits. Then the images of his wife and daughter appeared and scolded him. No, dearest loves, he told them, I will not let you down. I will find a way.
Concentrating on their own needs, they did not sense or feel the presence of Johnny Two Dogs in another portion of the cellar. He, however, was well aware of them, smelled them, heard them. He did not have any idea what to do about their presence and was beginning to doubt his choice of a shelter from the early winter cold. It was getting just too damned crowded.
“Ludwig.”
“Yes, Captain,” Corporal Weber responded and snapped to attention. Captain Walter looked saddened.
“Draft an order to all my platoons. I want the men fed immediately and then they are to load as much ammunition and food as they can carry. Blankets and water as well. They are to be ready to move out in two hours.”
Ludwig paled. “It’s time, then.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, Ludwig, it is. As a result of that damnable defeat of our navy, we must win the war by ourselves, and do it right now if we are not to starve and freeze here this winter. We are going to move out early tonight when there is still a hint of light and attack them in the morning. I’m afraid we will not have an easy time of it.”
Ludwig remembered the American dead piled up in front of his trench last summer. Now the shoe would be on the other foot. The captain read his thoughts. “No, we will not do it like the Americans. There will be a tremendous artillery barrage to soften them up, and then we will attack in great strength. Our generals have planned well. Not,” he laughed sharply, “like the fools who led our navy to defeat.”
Ludwig saluted and departed to carry out his orders. The captain had confirmed the rumor that was running rampant through the 4th Rifles. The navy had lost badly. Now the army could be stranded here in this strange land and be forced into captivity. He had mixed emotions. Although part of him did indeed want to stay, another part didn’t find the thought of becoming a prisoner very attractive. All he really wanted to do was find those nice people who wrote the pamphlet and who would give him sanctuary. Instead, he was going to have to fight the Yanks again and probably kill some more of them. It wasn’t fair. All he had ever wanted to do was teach school.
24
AT THIRTY-EIGHT, Rear Adm. Franz von Hipper was one of the youngest admirals in the German navy. He felt the weight of his responsibilities as he paced the bridge of his flagship, the Furst Bismarck. She was a heavy cruiser of almost eleven thousand tons capable of nineteen knots. She carried four 9.4-inch guns in her main battery and twelve 6-inch guns in her secondary, along with a host of smaller weapons. The Furst Bismarck was new and impressive. Hipper almost dared the American cruisers to attack.
Yet, he chided himself, battle with the damned Yanks was not his mission. His duty was to ensure the safe arrival of the awesome panoply of ships that steamed in seemingly endless ranks behind him. It was the largest convoy in modern military history and it had to get safely to New York. Behind him in ten rows were almost 150 steamers and freighters of all shapes and sizes, and from a dozen disparate nations. Not all had come willingly. It was too bad that Germany had to seize so many foreign ships by force, but the needs of the Reich came before the conveniences of Brazil and Holland. Many of the captains had screamed and cursed and not been willing to comply, until detachments of armed sailors were added to their ships to ensure their cooperation. That a few of the damned foreigners had continued to resist and died was of no consequence. The German flagships had, of course, come willingly.
Hipper’s eyes took in the magnificent view. To his right were the chalky cliffs of England. To his left were the beaches of France. The Channel was gray and choppy and there was a bite in the air that hinted of an early and cold winter. All the more reason to get the convoy to New York as quickly as possible. Along with the additional three divisions of sullen reserves, the ships were crammed with uniforms, blankets, tents, food, and, of course, ammunition. Included also were a number of colliers stuffed with coal for the North Atlantic Fleet. To his amazement, there were ships loaded with forage for the army’s many horses. Couldn’t the land of plenty provide anything?
Far to his front he could barely see the screen of light cruisers. He ordered theFurst Bismarck to signal them to stay in sight, and signal lamps quickly flashed the message. He and his heavy-cruiser squadron, along with the three battleships of the High Seas Fleet, led the convoy. Smaller cruisers and gunboats of all sizes and ages flanked it and brought up the rear. The presence of the battleships was reassuring. Hipper was thankful that reason had prevailed and a compromise had been reached regarding the use of the fleet. Specifically, it had been publicly announced that the battleships and a number of cruisers would escort the convoy until it was met off New York by the main battle fleet under Admiral Diedrichs. It was also stated that such a force would be more than adequate to prevent the Yanks from trying something stupid.