1901 (19 page)

Bulow leaned back in his leather chair. “Had either commanding officer—Captain Westfall of the second cruiser squadron or Major General Kirstein of the army—survived their unpleasant days, they would have been court-martialed and shot. The kaiser, to put it mildly, was outraged. The two gentlemen are more than fortunate that they had the good luck to be killed. Other senior officers involved in the debacles are, of course, disgraced.”

Holstein grunted and shifted his weight to ease the pressure on his girth. “And I understand these catastrophes have caused changes in our strategies.”

“Yes. Even though you were not there, I see no reason you should not know.” Holstein would find out anyway, Bulow thought. “We will be sending a third corps of regulars to the United States along with a fourth corps of activated reserves. A fifth and six corps of reserves will be activated and prepared for shipment to America if the circumstances warrant. The kaiser feels, and I agree, that the Americans’ little victory in Connecticut will embolden them to take further aggressive actions. We must be prepared for whatever they try to do to expel us. When they fail, as they must, then the kaiser is confident they will be willing to negotiate terms. He feels it is possible that the little defeat will ultimately work to our advantage.”

“And the navy?”

Bulow could not stifle a smile. It wasn’t often that the overbearing Tirpitz was knocked down a peg. “Our North Atlantic Fleet has been ordered to effect a concentration in force and cease sending squadrons out to bombard and aggravate the Americans.”

“Ah.”

“Further, the Asiatic squadron at Tsingtao will be directed to leave China and join the North Atlantic Fleet in order to make good the loss of the three cruisers. This is to be a highly guarded secret.”

For once Holstein was surprised. “But that abandons the Pacific to the Americans.”

“Von Holstein, the kaiser was shocked beyond words by the loss of those cruisers, and von Schlieffen is absolutely beside himself at the possibility of our army being cut off by the Americans. He is confident that our army can overwhelm the Americans, but first it has to get over there to America, and then it has to be supplied. Our navy is larger than the Americans’, but not as overwhelmingly so as our army. The American navy is not to be taken lightly, and I’m afraid that is what we did. We may have to face the unpleasant fact that the American navy is, ship for ship, at least our equal, perhaps our superior. The kaiser feels, and I concur, that we cannot afford to have isolated portions of the fleet overwhelmed and defeated. The kaiser is also personally embarrassed by the fact that the first shots ever fired by any German warship against a modern power resulted in such a crushing defeat. It is hardly the stuff of Nelsonian legends! He thinks his Uncle Edward is laughing at him, and he may well be.

“As to the Pacific, the kaiser feels there is nothing there that we couldn’t take back later after the war, should we have to. What else is there in the Pacific but the squalid mainland port of Tsingtao and part of the Samoan Islands? Von Tirpitz begged for a couple of old gunboats to be retained at Tsingtao to protect our interests and our tiny garrison from a hundred million or so Chinese who have no reason to love us, and that boon was granted. For the sake of our garrison, I hope the Chinamen never figure out how weak we are. At best we could only hope for a hasty evacuation. At worst, a massacre.”

Holstein thanked Bulow for his assistance and departed deep in thought. No German warships in the Pacific? He knew that the Americans had long since left to concentrate in the Atlantic, but now the Pacific was totally deserted by the navies of both combatants, and it was truly pacific. How interesting. How very, very interesting.

Theodore Roosevelt greeted the press in the bright sun on the lawn of the White House. There were about fifty reporters, pencils and notepads in hand, accompanied by a number of photographers. There was a movie camera as well, grinding away while Roosevelt shamelessly beamed into it. He was bubbling and ebullient. Beyond him were Secretary of State Hay, Secretary of the Navy Long, and War Secretary Root.

“Gentlemen, I am delighted to be here and to be able to answer your questions. But first, some news. I have promoted Captain Evans to the rank of rear admiral. Major General Funston, having recently been given his new rank, will have to wait a little while for further advancement. In the meantime, he has my undying gratitude.” This brought a few chuckles from the assembled reporters.

Roosevelt continued. “We have waited a long time, more than a month, for even the barest inkling of good news. Now, like the day that our country won twin victories at Vicksburg and Gettysburg, we have two bright and shining accomplishments to set against a long period of failure.”

Hay winced inwardly. It was absurd to compare these little incidents with the end of the epic siege of Vicksburg and the culmination of the titanic battle at Gettysburg, both on July 3, 1863. These most recent battles were piddling in comparison. Hay had been with Lincoln when he received the news of those victories, and Vicksburg and Gettysburg meant the end of the war, rather than a new beginning.

Roosevelt put his hands behind his back and thrust out his chest. “Gentlemen, any questions?”

“Sir, can you give us any information regarding the numbers involved?”

“Approximately eleven hundred German seamen were either killed or captured. Many of the captured were also wounded. Our casualties were only a couple of handfuls. Two or three dead—I’m frankly not certain—and a half dozen wounded. There was no significant damage to the ship herself. The casualties appeared to have been struck down by flying objects while they were out on the deck performing their duties.”

Roosevelt knew it would do no good to lie to the press about the naval fight. It had taken place in plain view of people on the shore, and the ships’ size, speed, armor, armament, and complement were all published information. But the land battle had taken place well away from curious and prying eyes, and he was under no such restraints.

“Regarding General Funston’s fine effort, I can only say that the numbers of fighting men on each side were quite substantial, although they did not involve the bulk of either army. The Germans’ efforts to trivialize the incident simply will not work. As to their casualties and ours, I will only say that they lost up to a third of their force, whereas our losses were substantially less.”

But not that much less. The body counters tallied 117 dead Germans and 209 taken prisoner, about half of whom were also wounded and were unable to flee. Funston estimated that the Germans suffered another 200 wounded based on traditional proportions. Thus the Germans had sustained just over 500 casualties out of a force of approximately 2,000. Not one-third, but high enough. The American casualties had been 88 dead, 264 wounded, and 2 missing. Although low as a percent of Funston’s force, the numbers were disturbingly high when his overwhelming numerical superiority was added to the equation.

A hand was raised. “Sir, just to give a sense of proportion to the battle, would you say that more or less than ten thousand were involved?”

“More.” That drew whistles, and the scratching of pencils picked up its pace.

“Sir, what will be the impact on naval operations of the victory off Florida? Has this tilted the balance of power to us?”

“The answer to the second half of your question leads to the first. No, it has not tilted the numbers to us. They still have a larger fleet on which to draw. I expect they will replace those ships from their own coastal defense forces if they deem it necessary. Further, no capital ships of theirs were involved. Therefore, their main battle fleet is untouched, as, of course, is ours. That basic fact will influence our future actions much more than the sinking of their three cruisers.”

“Sir, I’m confused. Just what was the
Alabama
doing there anyhow?”

“I understand she was on an errand of mercy. It was just plain luck—good for us and bad for the Germans—that she arrived at that particular spot at that time. It was more than luck that she was commanded by Admiral Evans, who knew exactly what to do with the cards he’d been dealt.”

The reporter was insistent. “And what about on land? I hear rumors that General Funston was called on the carpet for his independent actions. His superiors said they were irresponsible and might have jeopardized the entire army.”

Roosevelt scowled at the reporter, a young man he didn’t know. Must be one of Hearst’s more vicious puppies. “Major General Funston showed a high degree of initiative and creativity in his operations. If he did not notify everyone in the government of his intentions, it was probably to keep people from blabbing.” He treated the young man to a wicked gleam. “He certainly wouldn’t want to read about them in your paper before he put them into effect, now would he?”

Another reporter rescued the young man. “Can you estimate or forecast how this will affect future operations?”

“Ah, I might speculate.” Roosevelt turned to the movie camera and gave it his best presidential smile with all teeth gleaming. God, these things fascinate me, he thought. “First, we beat the hitherto invincible German at his own game. He thought himself the master of land warfare and now he has to rethink that opinion. The German army is considered the best in the world. To see it, or even only a portion of it, sent running by a bunch of freedom-loving farmers and mechanics who vote for their leaders rather than submitting to inherited tyrants must have distressed them greatly.”

“Sir, did you say the Germans ran?”

Roosevelt paused for effect. Let the question sink in. “They ran.”

Pencils worked furiously and he continued. “And a number of them surrendered; they were not captured. It would appear that the rank and file’s enthusiasm for the American campaign might not be as great as the All Highest kaiser imagines.” He laughed and raised a hand to the sky. “I’ve also been informed that some of our German prisoners have requested to stay in the United States. They have no wish to be exchanged and returned to the kaiser’s tender care. We will honor all genuine requests for asylum.”

“And what about the future, sir? When will our main army move against theirs?”

Roosevelt mused. This was difficult. Congress had been pestering him for the same information. Yes, we could beat the Germans under the right circumstances, and, yes, the rearming of the military was proceeding even faster than he could have imagined. But was the army ready to expel the Germans through force of arms? Miles said yes. Congress and business leaders said it must be done and soon, before the economy suffered even further and perhaps collapsed. Thus, with extreme reluctance and misgivings, Roosevelt had given in and, even as he spoke to the press in the July sunshine, Gen. Nelson Miles was speeding north to take direct command. His orders were to initiate battle as soon as possible and drive the Germans away.

But that could not be his answer. He had to dissemble. “All in good time, all in good time. We are continuing to build our strength while we are whittling at the Germans’. I know some of you are afraid we might be afflicted with what President Lincoln referred to as the ‘slows’ in describing General McClellan, but do not worry. We will strike. Our commanding general is no McClellan and is not possessed by the slows.”

But will the attack succeed? He was worried as he waved an end to the meeting with the press. These gentlemen stood and applauded and he and his cabinet ministers walked among them and shook hands, giving away nothing of what they knew. Oh, God, he thought, let them not fail. I cannot bear the thought of defeat. Miles must win.

“W
ELL, WELL,” SNEERED
Kessel as he pushed the dripping helmet off his sweaty forehead with his left hand. His right hand held the rifle to his shoulder as he leaned his body against the wet earthen walls of the trench. “Since you’re now an almighty fucking corporal and must know everything, would you mind telling me just why we’re standing here in this fucking rain and muck?”

Corporal Ludwig Weber smiled sweetly and tried not to look at either Kessel’s rain-soaked and ravaged face or the hate emanating from it. “Otto, if I knew I’d tell you. Unlike what you said, I am only a lowly corporal and the captain’s clerk. I don’t know shit about what’s going to happen and I’ve been standing here all morning like you. Maybe if I was a general I might know, but I don’t.” As clerk and translator for the captain, he had not expected to be told to join his old squad, but as the sergeant major had said, every rifle might be needed this day.

Kessel giggled obscenely and turned away. Weber noted idly that Kessel’s once-pristine uniform was not only soaking wet but covered with mud from the side of the trench. Ludwig assumed he looked that way as well. It had been a long time since the 4th Rifles had been clean and neat and ready to stand inspection or parade. Virtually all their clothing was filthy and worn. There had been neither the opportunity nor the ability to clean up. He knew he must stink because he could smell the fetid odor of the others. He was also a little hungry. Rations had been slow in arriving lately.

Ludwig reviewed what else he knew. He knew that his regiment had erected earthworks, one of a line of similar constructions that started at Long Island Sound and ran north for some miles into the boggy woods. The fortifications were there in case the Yanks, who everyone knew outnumbered them, attacked from their lines a dozen or so miles to the east. Ludwig also knew he didn’t relish the thought of an American attack.

He watched as Kessel hunched over his rifle and half hummed, half whistled a nameless tune. He’d been acting even more oddly than usual since he’d come back on the day after he was reported missing during the Brooklyn fire. Although it was obvious the man had been terribly hurt, Kessel’s explanation that he’d gotten lost and confused in the smoke and subsequently injured by falling debris simply didn’t ring true. There was now a scar-surrounded, lifeless orb where his left eye had once been. Although he had been issued a patch, Kessel let everyone see his maimed face and raged when they tried not to stare or were nauseated by the sight of it.