1901 (27 page)

“First, our main battle fleet will stay where it is and continue to maneuver and gain skills. On occasion we will send all or part of it south to make the Germans react by sending their fleet out to intercept. For the time being at least, we will decline combat unless they too divide their own fleet and offer a portion of it to us as a gift. All we wish to do is wear out the Germans and make them complacent as well as fatigued. Charles Clark, currently of the
Oregon
, will be promoted to command the battleships. You recall Clark, do you not? His was the epic journey from the Pacific to Cuba in time for the battle. Although we were afraid his lonely ship might run into Cervera’s squadron, he was actually hoping for it and had a plan to destroy them single-handedly. He likely would have done it. He is a fighter!

“I also propose to develop two cruiser squadrons. Please recall the analogy about the seas being highways. Well, right now those highways are running from Germany to the United States. I propose to cut them. The cruisers will be able to locate and attack the German transports. Here, look at the map. Ships leaving British or American ports can do so from scores of places and arrive at hundreds—thousands—of destinations. But look at Germany. There is only a handful of ports, and all on the Baltic: Hamburg, Bremerhaven, Stettin, and others as well as her main naval facilities at Kiel and Wilhelmshaven. Their points of departure are limited even if they do utilize the Kiel Canal to bypass sailing around Denmark.”

Dewey looked and saw he had the men’s rapt attention. “At that point, they can either go through the English Channel or around Scotland. Most will choose the shorter and safer Channel route. When they do make the Atlantic, the highway widens but not impossibly so. Unless a ship takes a huge, expensive, and time-consuming detour, there are only so many ways to get from the English Channel to New York. Even there, the highway narrows, like a funnel, down to a predictable area outside the harbor. My first squadron, under Robley Evans, who will leave the
Alabama
, will consist of a dozen fast cruisers that will patrol the Channel and other areas off Europe. The second squadron of six cruisers and an equal number of gunboats will be commanded by George Remey, and they will attack the German convoys off New York. Evans was scheduled for such a squadron against the Spanish, but the war ended so quickly he never got it. Remey is a solid and progressive man who won’t make mistakes so near the main German fleet and homeland.”

Longstreet was puzzled. “What about Sampson? Schley?”

Dewey replied sadly. “Admiral Winfield Schley no longer has our confidence. Although he considers himself the victor at Santiago, he made key mistakes that could have been disastrous had the enemy been other than the incompetent Spanish. I am afraid he is our equivalent of the army’s Nelson Miles. Far too many of our officers consider him old-fashioned, a laughingstock. We no longer find him fit for command.”

“But what about Sampson? He is considered a great leader with a great mind.”

Dewey shook his head, his face downcast. “Gentlemen, this should not leave this room. Admiral William Sampson is ill, very ill. You referred to a great mind. Well, he has an illness that is slowly depriving him of his ability to reason. He remembers little and does not even recognize friends. It saddens me deeply.”

The group took in the reality that one of the great leaders to emerge from the recent war was nothing more than a living shell, senile before his time.

“A pity,” said Longstreet.

“Indeed,” added Dewey. “But, back to my stratagems, I do have one other small plan I wish to implement. I have directed Captain Hobson to assemble a number of torpedo boat destroyers and attack German shipping in New York harbor. Just how and when I leave to his fertile imagination.”

This brought smiles all about. At age thirty, Richmond Hobson was the youngest captain in the navy. He had gained his rank by inspired, perhaps insane, daring against Spain. It was an intriguing selection.

“I have also given him our lone submarine, the
Holland
, and have directed him to use it.”

Longstreet mulled over what he had heard from Dewey and liked it. He did, however, have some thoughts. “Admiral, may I assume that, with all the naval construction going on and the number of ships authorized but not yet built, you might have some big guns lying about without ships to put them on?”

“Yes. There are a number of 6-and 8-inch guns in the Washington Navy Yard, as well as some larger ones in Philadelphia. Not all are new, however; many were taken from older ships that have been decommissioned or scrapped. Sounds as though you may have some use for them and would like to borrow a few.”

“I might.” Longstreet grinned.

“Then be aware that, although the guns—both older and newer model—are perfectly serviceable, there are no turrets or gun carriages. Right now they are little more than long metal tubes lying on the ground.”

Longstreet nodded. “Well, that’s why the Good Lord invented engineers.”

Dewey smiled. “Try not to break them. My guns, that is.”

A little while later, the conference broke up. Teddy Roosevelt repaired to his office and shut the door. He was both delighted and sickened. He was even more confident that his selection of Longstreet, supported by MacArthur, was the right one and would ultimately bring victory. Yet that victory would take a great deal of time and would cost dearly.

Time.

He didn’t have time. He saw the beginning of the dilemma with the Senate confirmation hearings on Longstreet. The country was starting to come out of its daze and question the value of continuing what had so far been a disastrous war. He now knew that his monstrous new army of a million men was a polite fiction. Men would be enlisted and trained, but they would not be available as a fighting force for at least a year, probably much longer. When they did become available, the physical constraints of the German salient would prevent most from finding a place to fight. No, the war, if it was to be won in a reasonable amount of time, would be won largely with the weapons and the army at hand.

The same was true for the navy. The completion of one battleship could be rushed, but the other ships under construction would not be available for many months, perhaps years.

How long would it be before the Germans saw through the fiction that permitted the American fleet sanctuary in the Saint Lawrence and put pressure on Britain to stop it? Roosevelt had no illusions about Britain. She would be a true friend for as long as the United States stood a chance of winning. When that ceased to be likely, the good things flowing so freely from England would slowly disappear.

But his greatest concern was his fellow Americans. They were starting to realize they’d suffered nearly thirty thousand military casualties and tens of thousands of civilian casualties, with millions dislocated, and they saw no end to their privations. At least, he sighed, this was not an election year. Although he did not have to run for office until 1904, there would be congressional elections next year, and if the war was still raging with no victory in sight, they could result in a less supportive Congress than existed today.

Already there were cries from Capitol Hill that the disaster in New York was a result of expansionist policies gone awry. Many people were beginning to grumble that we had enough troubles at home without taking on the added burdens of brown people in far-off lands; thus we were getting only what we deserved. William Jennings Bryan, McKinley’s Democratic opponent in the last election, was one such voice, and a very eloquent one indeed. Although the great orator had been supportive during the first weeks of the German war, the stalemate was giving him grist for comment. End the war, he was starting to say, testing the public waters; end it with a victory or end it with a settlement. We never did need the Philippines and Cuba. Get rid of them and good riddance.

Roosevelt nearly sobbed. What would a German victory do? First, there would be no American canal across the Isthmus of Panama. The Germans would build it and control it. There would be no great American navy. Why bother? There would be nothing to protect. The Germans would exert pressure on some of the less stable countries in South and Central America and gradually convert some of them to colonies. Within a few decades, this would result in German hegemony in the New World, and the Monroe Doctrine would be scrap.

Yet he could not urge his generals and admirals to do anything foolish. Another lost battle would likely lose the war and end the American dream of Manifest Destiny, which he and most Americans held so dearly. But he was pleased again with his choice of Longstreet.

Longstreet.

In a year, would old, deaf Longstreet still be available? Yes, he was relatively healthy, even rejuvenated, and he seemed up to the challenges in front of him, but when would the rigors of command start to grind him down? He was eighty-two and his allotted biblical life span had long since passed. How much more could be expected of him? If he fell, then to whom would Roosevelt give command? MacArthur? Most likely. Then who would command at New York?

In another few weeks the weather around New York would start to turn. Truly cold weather would move in and the millions of refugees and tens of thousands of soldiers would start to suffer further privations. Longstreet said he would fight for as long as it took. Roosevelt wondered sadly if he and the United States would be permitted that luxury.

Brigadier General Patrick Mahan rode his brown gelding carefully in front of the dressed ranks of men, thousands of them uniformed mostly in the new brown, their rifles shouldered and pointing skyward. It was his command. He was aware of the many eyes that followed him despite the fact that men at attention were supposed to be looking straight ahead. They wondered about him, of course, and why shouldn’t they? If he failed them, he could get them killed or, worse in many minds, maimed. They all knew crippled old men who’d lost limbs and sanity in the Civil War. Could that happen to them? Could they be blinded or lose their manhood? In the best of battles it was possible, but with a poor leader it was far more likely.

They were ordered to stand at ease as he read the orders creating the brigade and giving him command over it. Then he spoke briefly of his plans to work them hard so they would be ready for whatever their country had in mind for them. He did not try to inspire them with soaring rhetoric. That simply wasn’t his style. Stating plain, blunt facts was more to his liking. Besides, the men knew why they were here. There were Germans on their soil.

When he finished, the men managed a reasonable cheer. He got a more rousing one when he told them that hard training would begin not tomorrow but the day after. Tomorrow they could rest and prepare.

After dismissing them, he sent Heinz out to gather his regimental and battalion commanders. Patrick had seen a lot he liked, but much more that was lacking. Well, he laughed to himself, I wanted a command, didn’t I? I guess I got what I asked for. And yes, by God, it is going to be a challenge.

“Lieutenant Schmidt,” said Patrick. “Don’t forget enough glasses. We will inaugurate the brigade’s creation in the traditional manner.”

A
NY QUESTION EITHER
Patrick or Trina might have had as to how they would greet each other after several weeks of separation was immediately dispelled when, seeing Patrick’s arm in a sling, Trina pulled him to her.

“What happened?” Her voice was near a sob.

Patrick grinned and tried to make light of it. “I fell off my horse. I told you infantrymen can’t ride worth a darn.”

“Then you weren’t wounded?”

“Hardly,” he assured her.

She tilted her head upward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for trying to spare me worry, but I know exactly how you broke your arm. You were out on a patrol with some of your men and the Germans started shooting at you. That, sir, is how you hurt yourself.”

Patrick shrugged. “I think I have to get a new aide, perhaps one who doesn’t have such a big mouth. Yes, that’s exactly what happened, only my arm isn’t broken. I just have a strained shoulder and it was caused by my falling off my horse. I can use it a little and I’ll be better in a few days.”

Trina laughed. “Well, if you’re staying for dinner, will I have to cut your food this time?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

For an answer, she moved into his arms and they were embracing before either realized it and despite Patrick’s arm. “Am I hurting you?” she asked.

“The agony is overwhelming,” he murmured, “but I shall try to endure.”

She laughed again, the sound muffled by her mouth against his chest. Trina was both elated and confused. This was something that had never happened to her before. A quiet intimacy had developed between them almost without either of them noticing. What truly confused her, however, was what she should do now.

“I love your hair,” he murmured teasingly, kissing the top of her head.

“At least it’s long enough to see. Now I can go into town and not worry about frightening children, or having to wear a hairpiece that makes me look like some peasant woman from Poland or a refugee from a convent.”

They stepped apart and he took her hand. “I cannot imagine you in a convent. Perhaps as a Polish peasant, but definitely not a nun.”

Noises in the kitchen reminded them that they were not alone. Molly was preparing the promised meal. Heinz would not be there this evening. He was working on the myriad reports that an unfeeling higher command always required, war or not.

“I will stay for dinner, but I must get back to my men before it gets too late. I never realized I had so much to do.”

They ate quietly and alone. A very tactful Molly excused herself from becoming a third party by pleading a headache and the need to write some letters. After dinner, as the late-August night started to darken, they sat side by side on a couch in the small living room.

“Patrick, I think I like having your brigade just a few miles down the road.”

Patrick smiled. “Well, I like it too. I just don’t think we’d better get too used to it. We could be moved at any time and for any reason.”