Tim decided he didn’t give a shit. Wally was dead and who cared about numbers.
Smith tapped him on the shoulder, “Orders, Sergeant Randall.”
“Sergeant?”
“You’re surprised?” Smith said. “You were in training to be an NCO and you were doing very well. Now with all the casualties from the flu, the army is accelerating training for those who are left. You are one of the best who made it through the flu, so you get to be a sergeant. Not only that but you are a damn fine shot. Not as good as me, nobody is, but damned good nontheless. You are to go to Kansas City as quickly as possible. If you are just a little creative with your travel plans, you might spend a day or two in Camden with your family.”
Family? It would be nice to see them, even though he’d heard that the flu was ravaging east coast cities. And the word “sergeant” did have a nice ring to it. Regardless, it was better to move on and leave this place of mass death and the memory of his brother’s dying.
Tim noticed that “Smeeth’s” crazy accent had disappeared. Did he put that on just for show? He held out his hand. “Thanks Sergeant Smith.”
“You’re welcome, Sergeant Randall. Now get the hell out of here. New recruits are going to be coming in soon, which means I’ve got fresh meat to cure.”
The President of the United States was appalled. According to the report in his hand, the surgeon general was now predicting that as many as forty thousand young men would die in the training camps as a result of the influenza that had originated somewhere in the American Midwest. While somewhat lower than the original estimates, it was a catastrophe nonetheless. He put his head in his hands. He wanted to weep.
However, the numbers would not go away. Three quarters of a million young men had been in the training camps when the disease erupted with a sudden and lethal fury. A third of that total had gotten ill and forty thousand would soon be dead. Many thousands more would die elsewhere, and still more thousands had yet to catch it.
Worse, the numbers of those with the flu had been so great that ill soldiers had been transferred to civilian hospitals; thus causing the hideous disease to spread throughout the civilian population. The country was staggering from this additional blow. Trucks and carts collected corpses from houses in Philadelphia, in a horrific replay of the plague in the Middle Ages.
The only good news came from the surgeon general who announced that a vaccine had been developed and that the flu seemed to be running its course. For the dead and the dying this was scant comfort. And as to the war? Dear God, Lansing thought, how would we ever be able to fight the Germans?
“Other than the surgeon general’s guarded optimism, is there any actual good news?” Lansing asked.
“At least in the Navy the flu is contained,” said Navy Secretary Daniels. “In those instances where it has appeared, the ships have been quarantined and that has proven effective. And the same holds true for the Marine Corps. The need to increase the number of Marines was not as great as the Army’s need to increase the number of soldiers.”
Secretary of War Baker could barely hide his shame. The rush to enlarge the Army was his responsibility and on his head rested the blame for the inadequate facilities and equipment. Now it was easy to say that increases in the Army’s size should have been incremental and not headlong, but the nation wanted quick action, not slow growth. People would be court-martialed, and civilian contractors put on trial for their shoddy work, and perhaps some of them might even see the inside of a jail. But that would not bring back tens of thousands of young men.
More soldiers had just died of the flu than on both sides at the battle of Gettysburg. Baker had offered his resignation, but the president had declined it.
Lansing took a deep breath and sat up straight. “We cannot dwell on the past. We must look to the future and do what we can. General March, is reinforcing Liggett in California still out of the question?”
“It is,” March replied. “Not only is the weather our enemy, but there have been further acts of sabotage, and the Germans have sent units of the Mexican Army to take and hold the passes. That is, all except the northernmost one which we still hold. Liggett is sending men to expel the enemy from the other passes, but he doesn’t have enough to spread around.”
“And Texas?” Lansing asked.
March again responded. It looked like Secretary Baker didn’t want to say much of anything. “The army known as the Texas Volunteers is still holding on to San Antonio, but for how much longer I don’t know. Governor Hobby has finally asked for our help and we are going to send it to him. With Secretary Daniels’ permission, a brigade of two regiments of Marines has departed with General Lejeune in command. Another two army divisions are forming and will follow. The overall command will be Pershing’s.”
“Will they be in time to save San Antonio?” Lansing asked. He was under intense pressure from Congress and the nation’s newspapers to do something, anything. The loss of another major city like San Antonio with its legendary Alamo would be devastating.
It had been almost two months since the sneak attack by Germany and Mexico, and the American response had been virtually nothing. There seemed to be a clear understanding that California was isolated by sabotage and the weather, but Texas was another matter. The fact that the Texans had been stubborn in their confidence that they could defeat any Mexican Army with one arm tied behind them had hindered any thoughts of sending reinforcements. Until now, that is.
There was still the issue of weapons. While the ammunition supply was not critical, there was not enough, and artillery was virtually nonexistent. Soon that would change as factories were beginning to use the new foreign dies to produce weapons, but it would be a while before large quantities of anything were available.
At least the Navy was doing fairly well. Submarines off the California coast had sunk a number of freighters bringing supplies to the Germans. Light cruisers functioning as surface raiders and additional submarines were in the Atlantic and heading for Caribbean waters. German ships carrying supplies and reinforcements had to either make port at Vera Cruz or go around the world to California.
Ireland’s pro-German government in Dublin had requested that German ships stop using her as a base and instead had proclaimed her neutrality. There was confusion in Ireland as so many of her sons and daughters now resided in the United States. The consensus was that the Germans would honor Ireland’s request and that it wouldn’t much matter. If necessary, the Germans would use the Canary Islands or the Azores. Any American plans to use those islands as bases had been abandoned.
Lansing nodded. “Then supplies are their Achilles’ heel just as they are ours?”
“In the long run,” said General March. “While it isn’t quite a scorched earth policy, we are destroying everything of use while we retreat up California to San Francisco. In particular, we are tearing up the railroads. This means the Germans have to haul supplies by wagon or by truck, and, with the shortage of oil and fuel, this is proving difficult for them.”
“I assume it also means their ships and planes are still on a short leash,” Lansing said. There was agreement with his comment. “Time, then, is on our side. Would you say that, General March?”
March sighed. “No, sir, I would not say that. If they succeed in taking San Francisco, they can simply dig in and we will have to try and root them out. That, sir, would not be easy. Indeed, it might not even be possible. If San Francisco falls, most of California might have to be written off.”
Lansing stood. “Then they cannot be permitted to take San Francisco.”