Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

Dealing with the refugees was heartbreaking and made her realize just how small her own problems were. She had lost her cousins and her ranch, but many refugees had lost far more. The number of people looking for missing relatives was appalling, as was the number who informed her that loved ones were dead or injured. Especially heartbreaking were the people looking for small children who’d been separated from their families in the rush north. A high school nearby was being used to feed found children and she directed those families to that location. Sadly, many of them had already been there.

Kirsten reflected that she still had her life, a good deal of money, and had struck up a friendship with an interesting gentleman in Captain Luke Martel, who was supposed to take her for a walk after work. That is, if work ever stopped. It was already late in the afternoon and the lines showed no sign of shortening. Policemen would close the doors promptly at five and only those inside would be handled. Anybody else could come back tomorrow. Kirsten thought they should work around the clock in shifts, but the managers hadn’t yet come to that conclusion.

There was a commotion at the adjacent table. A Chinese family looked distraught, while the relief worker behind the counter laughed. “What’s the problem, Will?” she asked.

Will Baker continued to laugh. He was a short thin man with glasses. She thought he was very self-important. “Chinks think they got a right to food, that’s what.”

Kirsten was puzzled. “They don’t?”

“Not while there’s white people in line they don’t.”

“Don’t Chinese get hungry?”

Will’s smile changed to a glare. “Who cares? Look, you’re the new girl here, so do as you’re supposed to. Food goes to Americans, not to the Chinks.”

“And not to niggers, Indians, or Mexicans,” one of Will’s buddies added from another table. “Not that there’s a whole lot of niggers here, but you have to set rules. White people first and everybody else last.”

Kirsten nodded. “Will, you’re right, I am new here and I don’t know the rules. Who gave that order?”

“Right from the mayor.”

Ah yes, Kirsten thought. The mayor. Sunny Jim Rolph was a major booster for the town and, it was rumored, was one of a group of businessmen who’d once issued brochures denying that the earthquake of 1906 had ever taken place. The fire, yes; it could not be denied. But an earthquake? Heavens no. That would be bad for potential business. But would Sunny Jim Rolph order Chinese people to starve? She didn’t think so. San Francisco’s Chinatown, while resented by many, had been around for decades. She concluded that Will Baker was making his own rules.

She waved the Chinese family over to her table and issued temporary cards. They nodded and thanked her profusely in broken English. They departed quickly and fearfully, as if concerned that someone would try to take the precious documents.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the doors closed and there would be no more refugees until tomorrow when it would start all over again. She was about to stand up when she noticed Will and two others by her table.

“Look,” Will said, his pinched face red with anger, “I don’t know who the hell you are and what you think you’re doing, but don’t put me down in front of Chinks and don’t give ration cards to them either.”

Kirsten kept her calm. “Aren’t they supposed to eat?” she said sweetly. “Or don’t they bleed or get hurt? They are human, aren’t they?”

“Don’t get smart with me, bitch,” Will snarled. The two others nodded. None of them was particularly large or intimidating, but there were three of them. “Maybe we should take you outside and give you some punishment. Uppity women like you think you own the world since you can vote now. Maybe just an old fashioned spanking on your sweet bare ass would be a good idea and make you realize you’re not welcomed here.”

“Really?” she smiled.

“There’s a natural order to things, Mrs. Biel, and don’t forget it. White men are on top and white women are underneath them.” He laughed hugely as he realized the sexual implications of what he’d. “Yeah, that’s right. White men are always on top of white women.”

Will’s buddies thought that was hilarious as well. “Chinks, Indians, and Mexicans come last in this world. Hell, if the Chinks get hungry, let them eat flied lice,” Will said and roared at his own humor. He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, squeezing it. “You got that young lady?”

She pushed his hand away. “Let me show you something.”

Kirsten raised her skirt above her knee, exposing an expanse of calf and thigh. Will and the other two stared. “Oh look what I’ve found,” she said sweetly.

With stunning swiftness, the stiletto strapped to her thigh appeared in her hand and she plunged it down, impaling Will’s hand to the table. He looked in shock at his mangled hand and then screamed. Kirsten removed the knife and blood poured onto the table and down to the floor.

“Silly me,” she said. “I just dropped my knife. I think you ought to have that little cut looked at, don’t you?”

Will and the others ran out, bumping into each other like clowns at a circus. She wiped the knife on her handkerchief and returned it to its resting spot. She had a Derringer pistol in her handbag and a large hatpin in her hair. In these tumultuous times, weapons made her feel secure.

“Remind me not to get you angry,” Luke said, walking up to her. He grabbed her hand which was still shaking.

She took a deep breath and tried to get control of her emotions. “How long were you standing there?” she said softly.

“Long enough to be prepared to step in and stop them if I thought I was needed. Obviously I wasn’t. All of you were so preoccupied you didn’t see me. Why don’t we go for that walk, find us a bite to eat, and you can tell me what that was all about. Hopefully you’ll keep that knife in its most intriguing resting place.”

Kirsten laughed. “A walk and a bite to eat sounds interesting. Dealing with fools like those makes one just so hungry.”

The success of German U-boats in the short war of 1914 had shocked the military world. Not only had scores of civilian ships been sunk, but several supposedly invincible Royal Navy battleships had been sent to the bottom with great loss of life. Most tragically, the old Royal Navy battleships Cressy , Aboukir , and Hogue had been sunk by one sub, the U-9 in September, 1914. Fourteen hundred British sailors had died in the catastrophe while their ships’ captains looked on in disbelief. Thoroughly confused, they had wondered just what had happened to their ships. Attack by a sub was so unlikely, they thought the first ship had struck a mine and they had stopped to help which made them sitting ducks for the U-9.

As a result, many nations took a long look at their submarine fleets and the United States was no exception. When the war with Germany began, there were eight submarines stationed at Mare Island. Five were the longer range O-class, and three the shorter range coastal defense R-class subs. All eight subs were immediately sent to Puget Sound, where it was quickly determined that they were useless at that location.

Thus, when the British squadron made its entrance to the Sound, it was the five O-class subs that slipped out unnoticed and headed south to Catalina Island, close off the coast of California. The idea was for them to interdict German shipping to either San Diego or Los Angeles. The R-Class subs would remain in the sound and protect against any German attempt to force the entrance.

Catalina Island was rugged and beautiful and had not been given much thought by the Germans, despite the fact that it was so close to the California coastline. The American subs quickly found a home a few miles north of the developing resort town of Avalon, and the few fisherman who lived there cheerfully provided the crews with food. The main concern of the American sailors’ was using their meager supply of fuel and torpedoes efficiently. They could not afford to waste either.