Lansing put his hand on Marshall’s shoulder. “By resigning you will be honored in history as an example of an honest and virtuous man.”
Marshall smiled appreciatively. “And you will go down as the man who finagled himself into the most miserable job in the world while I go and smoke a good five-cent cigar.”
CHAPTER 3
A few days later, Luke Martel was so exhausted he could hardly stand as General Hunter Liggett read the messages from Washington. They included endorsement letters from Lansing and March along with the actual translated message stating that the Germans were going to invade. A copy of the original German text was included in case anyone on Liggett’s staff wished to question the interpretation.
Liggett was sixty-three, hugely fat and slow moving, which some mistook for mental slowness, or even stupidity. They were wrong. Liggett was a man of great dignity, and a solid general with a keen and lively intellect.
He was also a man of some compassion. “For God’s sake, Lieutenant, sit down.”
“I may fall asleep if I do, sir.”
“I’ll wake you if I need to.”
Two days and two sleepless nights in a series of frail and open biplanes, either rented from civilians or owned by the Signal Corps, had left Martel physically and emotionally drained. Nor had he had a moment to freshen up. He’d been met at the little airstrip outside San Francisco by a corporal driving, of all things, a motorcycle with a side car. More wind in my face, he thought, but this time with the added joy of bugs in my teeth.
A telegram from March to Liggett had directed the general to see to it that Martel be picked up and delivered to him as soon as possible. So, after thousands of miles in an open cockpit in air that was bone-chillingly cold, he had finally arrived in San Francisco and the office of Major General Hunter Liggett.
He was somewhat gratified to find that his innocuous telegram and phone call to Ike and Patton warning them of a sudden storm from the south had been passed on to Uncle Fox and Uncle Hunter as he’d requested.
“I presume you have read this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is that vomit on your uniform?”
“It is, sir. Two days in an airplane with utterly insane pilots will do that and I didn’t always make it over the side when we hit an air pocket or a storm. However, sir, there are parts of several states that have been thoroughly decorated by me, or desecrated if you prefer. The secretary of state and General March said it was urgent and that the full text could not be entrusted to the telegraph.”
Liggett set the messages on his desk. “They were, of course, correct. Are you aware that Lansing is now the president?” Martel was not. It had all transpired while he was in the air.
Liggett lifted his bulk from his chair. “Martel, I want you to go to your quarters, clean up, and get some sleep. After that, you will report here for assignment as God knows what. I have a feeling events are going to begin moving very quickly and we will all need clear heads.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But I do envy you, Martel. I would dearly love to go up in an airplane, but I very much doubt there’s one strong enough to hold me. Now get the hell out of here and come back in a more useful state. And by the way, Uncle Fox and Uncle Hunter commend you on a job well done.”
The Germans were not the sort of ally Mexican President Venustiano Carranza would have chosen, but then, beggars could not be choosers. He had needed help in the long and bloody civil war fighting the forces of his rival, Alvaro Obregon, and, in return for some small favors, Germany was more than pleased to comply. The Germans arrived, routed Obregon’s forces and imposed a peace of sorts.
Now there were hundreds of thousands of German soldiers, engineers, and businessmen in Mexico, and her ports were choked with German warships and transports. Vera Cruz on the east coast and Mazatlan on the west now played host to powerful German Navy squadrons. Mountains of supplies had been moving westward. German efficiency was both incredible and frightening. The border with the United States was essentially frozen, and foreign travelers, especially Americans, were only allowed access to certain areas of Mexico.
The despised Monroe Doctrine of the equally despised United States was just so much historical rubbish. He had contempt for the arrogance of the U.S. in thinking they could dictate the foreign policy of Mexico and other nations. In his opinion, the Americans felt that way because they were filled with brown-skinned people instead of white.
Carranza’s enemies and some of his friends thought he had made a pact with the devil, and perhaps he had. But Mexico was now united and would be a powerful nation once her lost provinces were returned. He was going to take a tremendous risk, but the rewards would be worth it. Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona would again be part of Mexico. California would belong to Germany and that was an annoyance, but Carranza was pragmatic. At age sixty-one, he was mature enough to know he could not have everything.
A positive side effect would be Carranza’s armies finally crushing the tens of thousands of armed Mexican refugees now in the United States. These were the remnants of Obregon’s forces, and they had to be destroyed in order to ensure Carranza’s view of Mexico’s future. This would be bloody but necessary.
Carranza had just completed a conference with the long-serving ambassador from Berlin, Heinrich von Eckardt, and the details were finalized. The Mexican Army would thrust north towards San Antonio after first taking Laredo. They’d both laughed at the idea of the Alamo falling again, although Carranza had laughed without humor. The damned Texans considered the Alamo a holy place. He would crush its every stone into dust when it was recaptured.
A second, smaller, attack would take Brownsville, while other Mexican units moved into Arizona and New Mexico. The Germans would attack with overwhelming force into California and move as far north as they wished.
Some of the bushy-bearded Carranza’s advisors warned him that Mexico was vulnerable to counterattacks by the Yanquis since Texas was much closer and easier to reach than California. Von Eckardt had soothed Carranza. The Americans would be far more concerned about California. He said there was enmity between Texas and the rest of the United States. Once the American military was crushed in the Pacific, a peace treaty would be signed that would guaranty Mexican sovereignty over her reacquired territories.
And Venustiano Carranzo would a hero to all of Mexico, indeed, all of Central and Latin America.
Meetings of the farmers, ranchers, and townspeople were often a bore. But this one had taken on an air of urgency. The two dead men discovered by Kirsten Biel hadn’t been the only bodies discovered. Ten others had been found the same day and it was supposed that still more lay rotting somewhere out in the barren land.
The small settlement named Raleigh was located ten miles north of the Mexican border and proudly called itself a town. With feet firmly planted in two centuries, Raleigh had one gas station, two blacksmith shops, and a stable. It also had a city hall, a bank, a small hotel, a couple of stores, and two churches—one Lutheran and one Methodist. A Catholic church that catered mainly to those of Mexican descent was a couple of miles out of town, where the Lutherans and Methodists said it belonged. A railroad line heading north originated in the town, and there was a loading platform, although it had been months since anyone had seen a train.
The name of Raleigh had been chosen by a real estate developer who thought he could get rich attracting Americans to the southern edge of California. The developer had gone broke, but Raleigh remained.