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The disciplined behavior of most of the Germans contrasted sharply with the ones who had burned her home and raped her cousin. The difference was simple: do not resist and you will be left alone. Resist and you will suffer terribly.

Kirsten had come to the realization that the others in her group, both men and women, were looking to her for leadership. Was it because they were on her property, or was it some other reason?

Still, the leadership role was collaborative. They discussed matters well into the night and came to collective decisions. First, they would do nothing to antagonize the Germans. That lesson had been learned. Second, they would gather enough food to keep everyone fed and try not to attract attention. There were seven men, five women, and six children to care for. Several said they would head north as soon as they felt the situation was safe enough. Of course, nobody had any idea just when that might be.

From a position on a hill, Kirsten could make out long lines of soldiers, infantry this time, snaking north and west. Their obvious target was San Diego. San Diego was the largest city in this area of Southern California and possessed a pretty good harbor that would be useful to the Germans if they planned to stay. And it looked very much like they planned on sticking around.

She and several others were angry enough to want to strike back, but how? They wouldn’t stand a chance taking on German regulars, so what were they to do?

First, they had to get the children and the women who wanted to leave to a place of safety. Then the remainder had to realize that the only place they could strike back at the Germans was their supplies. But what would the Germans do if she or anyone in her group tried to destroy supplies or damage roads? In 1914, the papers reported that the Germans had behaved hideously in Belgium and northern France. They’d blown up cities, executed hostages or shipped men off to work camps in reprisal for guerilla attacks, and in some cases, for no good reason at all. They papers had implied mass rapes and even the killing of babies by impaling them on bayonets, and Kirsten now believed it was possible. Would they do the same to Americans? Of course they would. Ella still hadn’t moved or said anything. Maria had managed to get clothes on her, and food and water in her, but her eyes were still blank. She remained in her own dark world.

A deep growling sound alerted her to the fact that several German airplanes were above her. She felt naked and helpless. Where were the American planes? She remained still. Even if the enemy pilots were looking, they were unlikely to notice her if she remained motionless. She’d hunted often enough to know that movement attracted attention and, if she stayed unmoving, she could hide in plain sight.

The planes passed from view, but the columns of German soldiers continued. How many of them were there, she wondered?

And where the hell were our American soldiers?

* * *

The film flickered on the sheet that served as a movie screen. Much of it was of poor quality but all of it was utterly horrible in its content. It showed German planes dropping their deadly load on hundreds of movie extras. It showed the victims being blown to pieces and later being strafed by escorting fighters.

The viewing only took a few minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Ensign Josh Cornell leaned on his crutches and wished he’d asked for permission to sit down. Admiral Sims would have permitted it quickly, but the man had to be asked. He had so much on his plate, it was ridiculous to think he’d recall that his newest and very junior aide had just survived the sinking of his ship, and been pulled from the ocean with an injured leg, along with multiple cuts and bruises. He looked as if he’d gone fifteen rounds with Jack Dempsey and lost every one of them.

Fortunately, the leg wasn’t broken. His knee had been dislocated and the doctors said he’d be just fine in a couple of weeks or maybe a couple of months. In the meantime, sea duty was out of the question and Josh had been tapped to serve on the newly arrived Sims’ staff for the simple reason that there wasn’t any other place for him.

The admiral was receiving praise for saving the bulk of the fleet from destruction by the Germans. He’d managed to save the three newer and larger battleships and most of the smaller warships. They were now more or less safely ensconced in Puget Sound, close to Seattle.

The lights were switched on and Josh caught D.W. Griffith’s young female assistant looking at him. He felt like saying “boo” to see if his appearance scared her. He recalled Griffith saying she had actually taken some of the pictures when the regular cameraman quite understandably ran away. She looked quiet and plain, but on second thought, not all that plain and she was certainly intelligent looking. He smiled at her and she blinked and seemed to smile in return. At least he hoped it looked like she’d smiled.

General Liggett and Admiral Sims sized up the moment. Finally, since it was Sims’ office, he spoke first. “Mr. Griffith and Miss Thompson, thank you for bringing this to our attention. We will attempt to send it on to Washington and you will be given the proper recognition for what were obviously heroic efforts. It is ironic in the extreme that the Germans apparently mistook your movie set for a defensive work and bombed it. Although, I somehow don’t believe the dead and wounded think it ironic at all.”

Liggett nodded agreement. “And we’re particularly impressed by Miss Thompson’s bravery in continuing to take pictures.”

Elise flushed. “I think I was too scared to even realize what I was doing.”

“Mr. Griffith,” Liggett continued, “you have a reputation as a businessman, what do you want out of this?”

Griffith nodded and half bowed. “I wish the honor and privilege of continuing to film the war. When the time comes, I will make more than enough money out of those efforts.”

Sims and Liggett looked quickly at each other. Griffith would surely find a way to make some money out of his films, which made his comment a little crass, but did it matter?

Liggett spoke for the two commanders, “Done. However, you must not do anything to endanger American soldiers and sailors and you must never betray anything we say without permission. Everything must be kept secret. Of course, you must also stay out of our way.”

“Agreed.”

Liggett rose. “Unfortunately, the films you took, while dramatic and historical, are of little strategic or tactical value. Still, they will show the world what we’re up against.”

“The film can be edited to look even more dramatic,” Elise found herself saying. “I would especially recommend editing out those extras dressed in German uniforms. It might be difficult to explain them to viewers in New York and elsewhere.”

Both Sims and Liggett chuckled. “Indeed it would, Miss Thompson,” Sims said. “Not only are you brave, but you think clearly, a fairly rare commodity. Perhaps you would consider leaving Mr. Griffith for a similar position with me?”

Griffith laughed. “She would, but she has too much of a future with me.”

Elise glared at him. How dare he speak for her? She was still perturbed at him for not letting her care for the injured. “I’d be honored to work for you, Admiral. When would you wish me to start?”

Sims smiled broadly. He had barely begun to gather a staff for his newly created position and needed all the qualified help he could get. “Yesterday would have been nice.”

“Elise, I thought you worked for me,” Griffith lamented.

“Mr. Griffith, haven’t you noticed there’s a war on? Frankly, I think that’s far more important than taking movies.”

Josh leaned against a wall. Elise? What a lovely name. And she was going to be working for the admiral. How wonderful. And now his leg didn’t hurt quite as much.

* * *

When his father died, he would be crowned Kaiser Wilhelm III. For now, he was the Crown Prince and he wished his father a long and happy life. He also wished his army would move a lot faster. The thirty-eight-year-old general knew he’d been given command of these armies, collectively known as “Army Group Crown Prince,” because of his royal heritage. Despite that implicit handicap, he’d worked hard and studied intensely to make himself a good general and a good leader, and he had largely succeeded. He was a professional and would not make mistakes.