“And what might they be?”
“One is that we share such sensitive data with reporters who are known to blab, and, second, why you brought such a bloody small flask.”
Sir Edward Grey had been Great Britain’s foreign secretary in 1914 and was now ambassador to the United States. He was admitted to the Oval Office by a beaming Hedda Tuttle. He had been waiting but a few moments and had charmed her to the point where she was weak-kneed and giggly. In 1914 and as Foreign Secretary, Grey had been the author of the comment that the “lights were going out all over Europe.” They hadn’t quite. After the defeat in France, England’s lights were indeed dimmed.
Robert Lansing rolled his eyes at Hedda’s immature behavior and bade the ambassador to take a seat. “To what do I owe the honor, Ambassador?”
The world of diplomacy is a small one, and the two men had known each other for years. While not exactly bosom friends, there was a high degree of mutual respect between the men. There was also a realization that England was supportive of the United States in its war with Imperial Germany, even though the British were understandably reluctant to provide more than advice and information. The Royal Navy was still mainly intact and superior to the kaiser’s, but the British Army remained small in comparison to the hordes that Germany could unleash if she could somehow cross the Channel and invade England. Discretion, therefore, was the British policy of the moment. Action might come later.
“Mr. President, I have the honor of representing Mexico as a third-party honest and honorable peace broker. Insofar as Mexico no longer has an embassy here, they have asked me to discuss certain matters with you.”
Lansing nodded thoughtfully. It was interesting that the Mexicans had asked a de facto American ally, England, to be its spokesman rather than another Hispanic country, such as Brasil or Argentina.
Mrs. Tuttle served tea and departed, flushed and happy. “And what matters do you wish to discuss?” Lansing asked.
“You will not be surprised to know that Mexico wants peace. They desire a return to the status quo antebellum, or at least as close as they can get to it. They feel that, with a new administration in Mexico City, bygones can be bygones and the past essentially forgotten. They wish to move on in mutual harmony to a new and bright future.”
Lansing snorted. “Is that what they told you?”
Grey smiled benignly. “Yes.”
“Did you tell them they had a snowball’s chance in hell of it happening?”
“Of course, but they had to try. They are in a desperate situation and want out of it. Let’s face it, they’ve lost nearly half their army of almost two hundred thousand men killed wounded, captured, and missing, and they’ve lost a large part of a major province as well as the vital city of Monterrey. They feel they have suffered very badly.”
“As have we, Ambassador. At last count, at least fifteen thousand American soldiers were killed or wounded fighting Mexico, and approximately three thousand civilians were killed or wounded, most in the massacre at Laredo. And may I remind you that both Laredo and San Antonio were utterly destroyed. Laredo, in particular, was treated savagely. Her people were brutalized and civilian homes were burned. Of course we will have peace, but Mexico will pay a price for us to withdraw.”
Grey sighed and began to take notes. “Mexico is pathetically poor. If you want money, she doesn’t have it.”
“She has mineral wealth and we will have concessions to exploit those resources. I hope Senor Obregon realizes that it will also provide jobs for Mexicans.”
“He will.”
“Aside from consolidating our defenses at Monterrey and scouting out Mexican positions, we will not advance any farther south except in response to Mexican attacks. In return, we expect Mexico to expel the Germans from Vera Cruz.”
“The Germans may be too strong for Mexico to accomplish that. Obregon might not even be able to get his army to attack the Germans.”
“Then tell Obregon that Vera Cruz must at least be isolated. Further, there are approximately twenty thousand Mexican soldiers performing support duties for the Germans in California. They must be recalled to Mexico immediately.”
Grey understood fully. The Mexicans were helping to guard the mountain passes as part of their support duties. “They will simply be replaced by Germans. Of course, Mr. President, that will weaken the main German force by the number they have to use to hold the passes and perform other guard duties.”
“There is more, Ambassador. Obregon must announce that we did not kill Carranza. We have it on good authority that it was Pancho Villa who actually pulled the trigger and, since Villa is a bandit, he can be the villain. Blaming us for the murder has enraged people in other Central and South American countries. This has resulted in the beatings, even deaths, of American civilians.”
“Obregon will be so informed, “Anything else?”
Lansing smiled grimly. “Right of passage. We demand the right to send our army westward through Mexican territory as needed.”
Ambassador Grey wrote quickly. My, my, he thought. This is going to get very interesting.
Kirsten dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment. She no longer shared cramped quarters with Elise. With so many civilians evacuated north, there was a surplus of living quarters for the remaining civilians. They each now had a pleasant apartment in the same building. Their landlady had also departed north, which meant they now lived rent free, as if that was important with a war raging just a few miles south. The landlady simply asked them to do their best to protect her property and then promised to pray for them.
Kirsten was exhausted. She smelled of blood, sweat, and God only knew what other odors. She generally wore a smock at the hospital, but smocks couldn’t stop an eruption of blood or pus when a wound was penetrated by Dr. Rossini’s scalpel.
The work was awful, but she was pleased that she was doing something useful, although useful seemed too trite a word.
That she had helped save lives was true, but it was also true that many young men had died. Nor were all the casualties soldiers and sailors. Civilians were also hit in the now almost continuous skirmishing. German artillery had not yet targeted San Francisco proper, and there were rumors that they wouldn’t hit the city intentionally because they wanted it intact for themselves. But plenty of shells had fallen on civilian areas, causing more casualties, whether on purpose or not. She wondered just what the hell civilians were doing, remaining so close to the lines? Staying in their homes because that’s where they live, that’s what.
Would the Germans ultimately decide to shell San Francisco if the siege dragged on? In 1914, they’d had no qualms about destroying Brussels, Louvain, and much of Paris, so why wouldn’t they level San Francisco? Rumors, bloody damned rumors, said that the kaiser wanted the city spared so it could be the capital of his new province of California. Luke had laughed at that idea.
“The only reason the shells aren’t falling are that they aren’t yet close enough and they’ve got military targets closer in. Watch out if they break through and the fighting becomes street to street. They’ll destroy everything and, if they win, rebuild later, except it will all look like a town in Bavaria.”
Shelters and trenches had been dug around the hospital and every other occupied building in San Francisco.
She disrobed and stepped into her tub. The water was chill but it refreshed her. She couldn’t help but think of a more innocent time when she’d taken baths like this at her ranch. She wanted to cry, but she was just too damn tired. She wanted Luke to come and press his hard body against hers. Like her, however, he was busy. Moments together were few and far between.