Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

“General, there isn’t much to tell. Since the Germans are the ones doing the advancing, we haven’t gotten many prisoners, and those we did capture are as ignorant of their superiors’ intentions as we are, except for the obvious. They want San Francisco. There are no rumors saying they’re going all the way to Canada, or anyplace else. German soldiers do not communicate with officers like ours do. Their job is to execute not to discuss strategy. It’s a very totalitarian army.”

Ike sipped some of his fresh coffee. “Now, this is more like it. Good, solid army coffee. How many old socks went into its preparation?”

“Just a few, General, they’re being rationed.”

Ike laughed. “You know, I’m really going to miss those sessions with you and Patton in Connor’s office. Damn the Krauts for killing him, and, no, I haven’t forgotten I’m a Kraut too.” He sighed. “Everybody’s got opinions, so let’s hear yours, Luke. What will the Germans do when they appear on our doorstep and quit calling me ‘general’ when it’s just the two of us. We have too much history for that.”

Luke wasn’t certain about that, but he went along. “Ike, I think they will continue in the meticulous manner that they’ve shown all throughout their advance. I think they will reach us, dig in extensively, and prepare for overwhelming assaults on selected portions of our defenses. Their trenches won’t be as extensive or as deep as ours because they will be intended to keep us in, while ours are intended to keep them out. Still, I think they will take time to mass and prepare.”

“But not too much time,” Ike said. “They have to know that a goodly number of our men made it across the Columbia and brought a lot of equipment with them. Not enough to face them man to man and, of course, our people aren’t half as well trained or as well armed as theirs, but enough to help hold our defenses.”

“Which is why they will pick a point or two in our lines and attempt to overwhelm us,” Luke added.

“And Hutier’s shock force will be one of them, won’t it?”

“Has to be, Ike. Even if it’s not their main thrust, they have to know that we’d be concerned. We can’t be everywhere and they will play off that simple mathematical fact.”

They turned to the map of California. Arrows and pins showed the Germans approaching Monterey on the coast and to the west of Fresno.

“Ike, I keep hearing rumors of secret weapons. Anything to them?”

“I hear the same rumors, Luke. Sims and Billy Mitchell have something called Operation Firefly and I have no idea what it is. Mitchell is half crazy and half a genius, so if Sims sees something in it, it might be interesting. Then there’s the question of what Patton is up to in the north. I asked and was told it had nothing to do with my gathering intelligence about the Germans.”

Luke shook his head. “So we may have secrets?”

“I put no faith in secret weapons. If they were so good, why wouldn’t we already have them? No, give me some well-trained men, some Lewis machine guns, some Browning Automatic Rifles and, oh yes, lots of artillery. No secrets there, just some good weapons to put in the hands of good men.”

Captain Adolf Steiner looked up from his desk and smiled tightly. “Olson, you look worried. Why is that?”

“Captain, I am always worried. Show me a man without a care in the world and I’ll show you a fool. So, yes, I am worried.”

Steiner sat back in his chair. It used to be Olson’s. “About what?”

“Rumors are swirling that the Mexicans got themselves defeated at San Antonio and are retreating towards the Rio Grande. Our Mexican allies, in particular the men I’m using as guards, are very concerned, and that makes me worry about their loyalty.”

Steiner sighed. He’d known this moment would come. “Your stalwart Mexican guards have a right to be concerned. Not only was their army in Texas defeated, it was virtually destroyed. And the American Army under someone named Pershing is not headed towards the Rio Grande; it has already crossed the Rio Grande and might be on its way to Monterrey. If that has occurred, Carranza may be on his way to becoming a footnote to history.”

Olson paled. “Then Mexico is out of the war?”

“Hardly. Mexico is doing yeoman service in tying down the vast majority of the uniformed mob the United States calls its army. Every American moving south towards Monterrey is one who is not moving north and west to reinforce Liggett. In fact, every step Pershing’s army takes places them farther away from doing something useful. Olson, the Mexicans were never meant to win. Their job was to die on our behalf and they are doing an admirable job of it.” He laughed. “Of course, they didn’t realize it at the time, although perhaps it’s dawning on that fool, Carranza.”

“And if the Americans take Vera Cruz and eliminate your base, or there’s another government in Mexico City that is hostile to Germany, what then?”

“We no longer need Vera Cruz as a base, although we might try to hang on to it to tie up the Americans. A few divisions from Germany will stiffen Mexico’s spine. Or we will simply take over whatever the Americans don’t want. Or we will just abandon Mexico to its well-deserved fate at the hands of vengeful and vindictive Americans. Vera Cruz has become redundant thanks to the capture of San Diego and Los Angeles. Why in God’s name would we haul supplies overland when we can send them by ship to those ports? Or haven’t you noted the slackening of material coming from the east?”

Olson flushed. He had but he had put it down to a lessening need for an Atlantic base, not a total lack of a need for one.

“Look, Steiner, there will be desertions when the Mexican guards find out, and we need those people to maintain order. I’m afraid they’ll change their allegiance back to Obregon the minute they sense that Carranza’s done with.”

Steiner glared. Olson was taking liberties. Steiner preferred to be addressed by rank. “Then you stop them, Olson. Kill a few of the guards if you have to, and if too many of our guards run, then do something about the prisoners. We can’t have them rushing us and slicing our throats with the knives they’ve doubtless got hidden everywhere in their camp, now can we?”

Olson had a horrible thought. “What do you mean by doing something about the prisoners?”

He laughed savagely. “Why Olson, if it comes down to it, you will have to kill them.”

Olson’s mind reeled. Kill all the American prisoners? Dear God, had he backed the wrong dog in this fight? He forced himself to be logical. Steiner liked logic.

“I don’t think the Mexicans would do it even if ordered, and I know damn well my own men won’t. They’ll all kill enemies in battle, but they won’t slaughter helpless prisoners.” Well, maybe a couple of them would, he thought.

Steiner smiled tightly. “Then you’d better learn to sleep lightly and with a gun under your pillow.”

The crown prince and the admiral finished a pleasant meal of grilled salmon accompanied by a surprisingly good white wine. They were in a wealthy man’s mansion south of Monterey, California, and seated on a patio overlooking the ocean. The homeowner had departed weeks earlier. The wine came from the owner’s private stock. Like so many people in the area, he’d made his own.

The scenery was beyond fantastic. Great waves crashed among massive, craggy rocks. Both men admitted they could watch the waves for hours if only the war would let them. Only the two German battleships anchored offshore intruded on the area’s natural beauty.

They were told that the homeowner had been a banker before the war; now the man was a refugee. The size of the estate, however, had given them a further understanding of the wealth and potential of California, a land that would soon join the Reich. It was understood that, after the war, many Americans would leave and migrate east of the Rockies, which would be the new boundary. In their place would come good, solid German immigrants to California.