“Your kaiser is insane.”
Bernsdorff laughed. “Quite possibly, but, as you say, crazy like a fox. The kaiser is totally unlike your saintly and naïve fool President Wilson. By the by, don’t even think of a formal declaration of war. If you do that, the remainder of the German High Seas Fleet will leave German waters and commence the destruction of America’s east coast ports, after, of course, destroying your small navy. Following that, the mighty German Army will invade your east coast at points of its choosing and crush what remains of the United States. The result will be a peace that deprives you of far more than the four states now involved. Sign a peace and you will be able to retain northern California, Oregon, Washington, and the territory of Alaska. Don’t and you will lose them as well, along with God knows what else along the east coast. Perhaps we’ll take Florida and New Orleans.”
Lansing’s face was turning red. “Bernsdorff, have you forgotten the extent to which the United States mobilized in previous wars, such as our Civil War? This is now a nation of more than a hundred million people and they will not stand to have four states taken from her.”
Bernsdorff laughed. “Your people will accept reality. France has had to deal with the loss of Alsace and Lorraine and parts of the Normandy coast, and has survived, although as a bloody mess. Denmark lost Schleswig and Holstein in the last century, and other nations have lost territories as well. Such fluctuations and corrections are the way of the world. Borders are fluid and sophisticated nations, not childlike ones like yours, understand that reality. After all, didn’t you enhance your borders as the expense of Mexico? You are not being asked to like it, merely accept it as reality and move on.
“And as to your population of more than a hundred million, don’t forget that many of them are ethnic Germans who will not support you in a war against us and will likely rise up against you in a second civil war that will totally involve and overwhelm your disreputable little army. You will have a bloodbath within your borders as you try to defend against us. And as to the rest of your population, many of them are immigrants who don’t speak English and can’t even spell America. Did you know, sir, that fully three quarters of the population of New York City is foreign born? No, we are not afraid of your numbers. They are an illusion.”
“Get out of here.”
Bersndorff blinked. “Sir?”
Lansing stood. His face was red with fury. “Get the hell out of here! You attacked innocent people without provocation or warning. Dastardly! You people are cowardly barbarians.”
Bernsdorff stood and walked towards the door of the Oval Office. His dismissal was nothing more than what he expected. He had a message to deliver and had done it. Now he would have to leave a country he rather enjoyed and return to a rather sterile Berlin. A shame, he thought. He would really like to remain and see just what the Americans would do and how they would do it.
He turned. “I will prepare a more diplomatic memorandum than what just transpired between us in privacy. Perhaps it will provide you with some political shelter.”
Lansing laughed harshly. He was breathing hard and his pulse was racing with anger. “Don’t bother. Thanks to Thomas Edison’s marvelous phonograph, all of what you said was recorded. Copies will be made and sent about the country while transcripts are provided to national and international news services. Your perfidy will be totally public.”
Bernsdorff was shocked. “That is not gentlemanly, sir. Our conversation was between the two of us.”
Lansing stood and wanted to punch the man. “Is a surprise and sneak invasion of another nation a German’s definition of gentlemanly? Once again, get the hell out of my office before I have you thrown out.”
“Since you have chosen this route, President Lansing, a word of warning to the people of California. We will deal fairly and honorably with military prisoners of war, but not with civilians who oppose us. Such Franc-tireurs are nothing but terrorists and will be executed summarily as we did in Belgium and elsewhere. Good day, sir.”
Martel crawled over the crest of the hill over to where Major George Patton lay peering through binoculars.
“Don’t stand at attention and don’t even think of saluting,” Patton muttered.
“Glad to see you too, Major.”
“Drop it,” Patton said, referring to rank. It was just the two of them. “How’d you get down here so quickly?”
“Another plane. I’m almost getting used to them. The pilot was some lunatic teenager named Lindbergh and I’ll swear he stayed at three feet above the ground to avoid German planes.”
The sound of machine-gun fire interrupted them. They both looked through their binoculars.
“Okay, George, what do you see down there?”
Patton chuckled, “Germans, Germans, and still more Germans. They are moving ever so slowly on San Diego, which they should have taken ten minutes after crossing the border. Hell, it’s only sixteen miles from Mexico.”
An artillery shell screamed in and landed a hundred yards in front of them. Martel winced and Patton laughed. “You afraid, Hammer?”
“Hell, yes.” Patton liked to show off his knowledge of military history by occasionally calling Luke “Hammer.”
Charles—“the Hammer”—Martel had defeated the Moslems at Tours in the eighth century in an epic battle that had stopped the Moslem advance into Europe and possibly changed the course of history. To the best of Luke’s knowledge, he was not descended from the early medieval French warrior, but that didn’t stop Patton from teasing him.
Luke peered through his own binoculars. He saw infantry and lots of it, but no cavalry, and they were all moving very slowly and carefully. He noted the presence of several armored trucks. He thought they would be far more dangerous than cavalry in a modern war. He wondered if Patton agreed with that. Patton was a horse man.
“I can’t believe they’re moving so slowly,” Patton said.
“I can and it’s all your fault.”
“What?”
“One of the prisoners you took was a staff major and needed morphine to dull the pain of his wounds. Of course, I wouldn’t give him any until he talked at length and then I gave him some more and he talked at even greater length.”
Patton laughed, “Luke, you are a class-A shit. I am so proud of you.”
Luke grinned. “Thanks, George. At any rate, he said his division had been told to expect light resistance, but to be careful not to leave their flanks hanging. Apparently, they actually understand how close their win at the Marne in 1914 truly was and don’t want to make the same nearly fatal mistake again. They are more than willing to sacrifice speed to maintain the integrity of their formations. Also, it was understood it would take time to get their army across the rugged and constrained border between California and Mexico and in position to fight. Thus, they were directed to move slowly on the defenses of San Diego.”
Patton snorted, “Defenses of San Diego? What defenses of San Diego are they talking about? The place is absolutely wide open.”
“George, according to their thinking it is inconceivable that a major port like San Diego wouldn’t be protected by major fortifications. The Kraut major said they were to move forward and locate them. He said his senior officers would be stunned when they found out about your attack on their formation since they assumed us stupid Americans would wait in our forts to be attacked and then pulverized. He said your attack proved two things: One, that there is a major American presence in the area, and, two, San Diego would be well defended. Congratulations, George, if the major is correct, you’ve just bought us some time.”