1920: America's Great War-eARC (11 page)

Ike and Luke ran to where they could see out into the ocean. Off in the distance, silhouetted gray shapes lay just under the horizon. The German fleet had returned to San Francisco. Lights twinkled from them, almost merrily, but each twinkle was a naval gun firing and a shell being hurled on its way. The German Navy was bombarding the city.

After a few more minutes, the bombardment stopped and the Germans steamed off, headed south. There had been no return fire from the American coastal forts.

“Son of a bitch!” Luke said. “There was no reason to bombard a helpless city!”

Ike shook his head. “Just like there wasn’t any reason for the Germans to bombard and burn cities in Belgium in 1914.”

Horse drawn ambulances had begun to pick up the dead and injured, and fire engines were fighting the fires that the shelling had begun. Ironically, the earthquake and fire of 1906 had resulted in San Francisco having very efficient emergency services. Luke thought this would not be the last time they were needed.

* * *

Kirsten felt very nervous riding into Raleigh. She was in a horse-drawn carriage with an equally nervous Maria at her side. Kirsten was dressed demurely in a long skirt, wore no makeup, and her clothes were intentionally baggy and worn. Of course, as a result of the Germans burning her home, her choices of clothing were few. She didn’t think she’d have any difficulties with the Germans in the town, but she was not taking any chances. What happened to Ella might have been a fluke caused by Leonard shooting at the Germans, but she would take no chances.

She was in town for several important reasons. First, the group in the hills needed supplies and she hoped the local stores still had some. That and she wanted some news as to what was going on. Up in the hills it was like they were on another planet.

Raleigh was depressing. Many of the buildings were damaged or destroyed and the smell of charred wood was still in the air. Worse, there were many German and Mexican soldiers in the little town. Some of them appeared to be working, while the others just lounged. On the plus side, they didn’t give them more than a glance. Two dowdy women in a carriage pulled by a miserable-looking horse were not a threat, and it did appear that there was discipline in the town.

She pulled up at the general store where she normally shopped. It was owned by an Italian couple, the Russos. Joseph Russo was behind the counter and greeted her warmly, but with a hint of nervousness. Kirsten attributed it to the fact that a couple of German soldiers were also shopping. She wondered if they would pay or just requisition what they needed.

She pulled out a list and handed it to Joseph. He blinked and took a deep breath. “Do you have authorization, Miss Biel?”

Now it was her turn to be surprised. “What do you mean?”

He was about to answer when Roy Olson appeared at her side. “What he means, Kirsten, is that things have changed in the last couple of days. The German commander in the area, a Captain Steiner, has instituted rationing since our food supplies are rather limited and likely to stay that way for a while.”

Kirsten thought it made a kind of painful sense. “I see. Now, how do I get such a permit?”

Olson smiled. “Why, you get to talk to me. Steiner appointed me administrator of the area and liaison with the occupying forces.” He guided her by the arm and into the back of the store where he had established an office. She noticed that the rear of the store was filled with supplies. She wondered if Olson rationed himself.

“Steiner wants to make sure that only people who really need food get it,” Roy said. “He would be much happier if everyone came down from the hills and didn’t sit up there with rifles and pose a potential threat to his men. He will not tolerate any of his soldiers being shot, which would result in tragedy. Like what happened at your home.”

“Are you saying we won’t be allowed to defend ourselves?” she bristled.

Olson’s face hardened. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Times have changed and we have to change with them. We are no longer in charge and we’d better get used to it.” He gestured to a window. “See those boys out there digging?”

She hadn’t really noticed them before, she realized to her chagrin. “Yes.”

“Like I said, this Steiner fellow, who’s really quite pleasant as long as you don’t cross him, has made a rule and it’s probably the same way all over German-occupied California. All able-bodied men will work two days a week helping expand the rail siding here to accommodate more trains. So, if you’ve got men up in the hills with you, you’d better get them down here and registered so the Germans don’t think they’re guerillas. They shoot guerillas, Kirsten, and they don’t ask questions.”

She found a chair and sat. “So you’re collaborating with the Germans.”

“Of necessity, yes. Steiner drafted me to be the administrator and I did not have much choice. If I hadn’t taken the position, I’d be outside digging ditches myself.”

She looked at him coldly. “And how vehemently did you argue?”

“Kirsten, I have always thought of you as a reasonable, intelligent woman, so let me tell you a few things. This isn’t the United States of America anymore. The Germans are here and, according to what I’ve learned, they aren’t leaving. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. California has become a territory of Imperial Germany and will be ruled from Berlin. We no longer live in a democracy; we now live in an autocratic empire and under military rule. Kaiser Wilhelm II is our leader, not Robert Lansing. We don’t have to like it, but that is our new world, and yes, I am going to collaborate. It has taken me thirty years to build up what I have and I’m not going to lose it because of any political change. The United States can’t even decide who’s going to be president, much less defend us. The U.S. just went through three presidents in one week. Washington’s just like the Roman Empire or a debauched Papacy.”

He laughed harshly. “And have you seen the American Army? Of course not. It doesn’t exist. On the other hand, I’ve seen thousands of German soldiers come through and this isn’t even the main part of their invasion. Tomorrow, a squadron of German warplanes will land here to add to their strength.

“Someday the United States may again govern here, Kirsten, but I doubt that it will be in our lifetimes or those of our great-grandchildren.”

For one of the few times in her life, Kirsten was speechless. The enormity of the events and changes was overwhelming.

“So you see,” Olson continued, “it is in everyone’s best interest to cooperate with the Germans. Or would you rather that California be part of Carranza’s Mexico? Would you want your family to be hurt anymore then they have? Poor Leonard was brave but foolish and what happened to Ella was deeply regrettable. And, yes, I do know what happened to her. Steiner told me. He assured me that the soldiers in question have been disciplined.”

Kirsten stood up. She very much doubted that anything had happened to the Germans who’d raped Ella, but this was not the time for such a debate.

“You’ve given me much food for thought, Roy. But first, how do I get food for the women and children in the hills?” she asked, intentionally leaving out the fact that men were up there as well.

He smiled. “Why I give you permits, of course.” He pulled some forms out of his desk and filled them out. “Here. Give these to Joseph out front and he’ll be glad to fill your orders.”

He guided her out of his office, letting his hand rest on her shoulder and drop down to her waist. She shuddered but kept her feelings under control. Yes, things had changed and she would have to figure out just how much.

And what in God’s name could she do about it?

* * *

Secretary of State Charles Evans Hughes looked coldly at the man before him. “I only have a few minutes,” he said pointedly.

Giovanni Golitti had been premier of Italy until a corruption scandal had resulted in his ouster. He was confident he would rise again. Corruption is so quickly forgotten, especially in the riotous politics of the still very new nation of Italy.

“I had hoped to see President Lansing,” he said through a very nervous translator.

Hughes remained stern. “You are a minister without portfolio from a nation that is allied with our enemy, Germany. There are those who feel I should not waste my time by talking with you at all.”

Golitti matched the glare. He’d been weaned in the rough and tumble arena of Italian politics. “Then you’d be making a huge mistake. Things are not always as they seem and there are many people in my country and other countries who are concerned about Germany’s preeminence in the world and who would wish to do something about it.”

“Go on,” Hughes said, his curiosity piqued.

“Indeed. Germany’s successes have led to even greater arrogance on their part, and that has been followed by their insistence on preferences in trade and other matters that simply are not in Italy’s best interests. In short, it would not bother Italy and several other nations if Germany were cut down a little bit, perhaps even more than little bit.”

“How would you accomplish that?”

“Mr. Hughes, you have a wonderfully large nation with a potential for military greatness. Sadly, you lack everything needed to fulfill that potential. I—we—propose to remedy that.”

Hughes smiled, “We?”

“A number of nations, including France and England obviously, have been contacted by my government and are more than willing to help you get the equipment you lack. Others include Spain, Portugal, Sweden, and, of course, my beloved Italy.”

Hughes smile widened. “May I ask if you and your associate nations have any specific plans to assist us?”

“Your crying need is for artillery, machine guns, and ammunition. While we would not be so foolish as to send hundreds of planes, thousands of French 75mm cannon, and tens of thousands of machine guns to you and try to hide that fact from the Germans, a thought did occur to us. You are the greatest manufacturing nation in the world, so we will send you the dies and other equipment necessary to begin the immediate manufacture of those items.”

“And when will that occur?”

“It has already begun, Mr. Secretary. In anticipation of your concurrence, equipment is on trains headed for Lisbon. They are crated as farm machinery—which reminds me, the British will be sending you some special farming equipment they’ve been working on for the last several years and which is, I understand, quite secret.”

“Excellent,” Hughes beamed.

Golliti continued. “Further, it is understood that you need bases for your warships if they are to go on commerce raiding cruises. Since you are so outnumbered I don’t think your navy will be looking for fleet actions, at least not yet. We will look the other way if your ships use the Azores or Canary Islands as bases, just as your navy is planning to use Catalina Island off California.”

Hughes blinked. How did the little Italian learn about the plans for Catalina? “And if our ships were discovered,” Hughes said, “I am certain that the nation whose resources we were using would deny complicity, demand both our immediate withdrawal and an apology from us, which we would quickly and sincerely give.”

Golitti laughed, “Of course.”

Hughes stood and smiled broadly. “Would you like to meet President Lansing?”

CHAPTER 6

Despite not being particularly tall, Major General John J. Pershing was a totally dominating person. Dressed in a uniform that looked like it had been painted on him and without a button or a crease out of place, he seemed to epitomize what a general should look like. He was sixty and looked at least a decade younger.

Pershing was also the only American general with significant experience in leading anything resembling a large body of men. Four years earlier, he’d taken an ad hoc division into Mexico in search of bandits who’d attacked towns and ranches in Texas. He’d fought several battles against the bandits and, later, against Mexican regulars when the Mexican government finally decided it didn’t like an American army marching around in their nation.

He was often referred to as “Black Jack” Pershing, because he’d commanded Negro troops against the Apaches and, later, in the attack on what became popularly known as San Juan Hill in the Spanish American War. There he’d met and impressed a young Theodore Roosevelt. Many Southern officers disparagingly referred to him as Nigger Jack instead of Black Jack.

Pershing was a widower. His wife and two of his three children had been killed in a fire. He was not the prude his stern appearance would seem to indicate. Indeed, after the loss of his wife, he had consoled himself by having several affairs, including one with the sister of one of his favorite young officers, George Patton.

General Payton March thought Pershing was a very good general and a very flawed man. He was also the best March had. Liggett was tied up in California and, in March’s mind, the only remaining choice to command the American Army was Pershing, who was still unpopular in some quarters after Roosevelt had promoted him to brigadier rank ahead of many, many others senior to him. Major General Leonard Wood, also sixty, was available, but Wood wanted desperately to be president, not just a general, and March was concerned that his political agenda might interfere with his military one.

March smiled and the two men sat down. “General Pershing, I have a very simple request to make. The Germans must be defeated. Can you do it?”

Pershing did not blink. “Of course. However, I will need the time and resources to develop an army that can win and not be slaughtered in the attempt. You know as well as I do that despite the fact that enlistments are pouring in, there are no training camps, no uniforms, no tents, no officers, no sergeants, no machine guns, and no artillery. Oh yes, don’t forget planes and armored vehicles. Once those problems are resolved, we can and will expel Germany from our country.”

“And how long will that take?” March asked, dreading the answer. The treatment of volunteers was a scandal. Many thousands were freezing in inadequate facilities in poorly designed camps.

“At least a year,” Pershing answered without hesitation. “And I will require approximately a million men.”

March blinked. Damn Woodrow Wilson and his naive belief that the United States could stay out of war by simply wishing it. Wilson could never accept the premise that some nations were predators. “Many are enlisting,” March said, “but nowhere near that number.”

“Then, odious as it may seem, there must be conscription.”

March leaned back in his chair. A conscription act was already working its way through Congress and would be law in about a week.

“But why so many men?” March asked. “The Germans don’t have anywhere near that many in California, and Texas appears to be a totally Mexican-run operation.”

Pershing smiled tightly. “You are quite correct. However, the Germans have made it plain that the declaration of war would result in attacks along the Atlantic coast. That will result in pressure on President Lansing to divert forces to garrison coastal cities against attacks that might or might not ever come. That and the fact that I would wish to outnumber the Germans when we do counterattack.”

“But a year? That seems excessive.”

“Let me be blunt, General March: it may take even longer. The only things we have in great numbers are Springfield rifles. Sadly, they require ammunition and trained personnel. We are like Washington at Valley Forge. We must create an army out of nothing, and an army a hundred times larger than Washington’s, and we don’t have a von Steuben to train them.”

March nodded. “We cannot afford to strip our existing units to train recruits. We will have to use retired military personnel.”

Pershing shook his head vigorously. “I do not want to use our own soldiers, or even experienced retired soldiers, to train recruits. However well intended they might be, the last war they might have fought in would have been against the Spanish in Cuba, or the Moros in the Philippines, or even the Apaches, and these are hardly examples of modern warfare. No, sir, if humanly possible, I would like the trainers to be British. They may have lost to the Germans, but they did confront the Germans and often hurt them badly. They would know their weapons and their tactics. And I would not want any French instructors. Their tactics were execrable.”

March was about to say it was impossible, but the germ of an idea crept in. “Perhaps,” he said with a small smile.

Pershing leaned forward. “Terrible things may happen in California and we will be unable to prevent them or strike back. The president will be under tremendous pressure to do something, anything, but to act prematurely would be disastrous.”

“Are you saying General Liggett must be abandoned to his fate?”

“Sadly, yes, and he is well aware of it. He knows the state of our military and how long it will take to create an army, and, for that matter, a navy.” It was a reminder that so many of the navy’s fine warships were seriously undermanned. “General Liggett is a fine general and he will do as well as anyone.” Pershing grinned uncharacteristically. “Perhaps the stress of combat will cause him to lose some of the incredible weight he carries.”

March smiled as well. Liggett’s prodigious weight was a joke and had been a source of friendly contention between the obese Liggett and the austere and trim Pershing. Liggett was sixty-three and looked older.
Christ,
he thought.
Don’t we have any generals under sixty?

Belatedly, it annoyed March that Admiral Coontz had not been invited to this meeting, but it would have been a breach of Army-Navy protocol. It was understood that Josephus Daniels and Admiral Coontz were desperately trying to get the Navy’s ships manned and supplied. And damn protocol, he needed to get together with the Navy and coordinate their efforts.

“General Pershing, is there any good news you can give?”

“I think so. First, we can and will strike at the Mexicans in Texas. That should take pressure off the president and we should be able to expel them. Also, the German’s Achille’s heel is their supply line. We may be three thousand miles from San Francisco, but they are halfway around the world from Germany. The more we can interdict their supplies, the worse off they will be. We still hold the Panama Canal, do we not?”

“We do. The Colombians tried to take it back from us, but our small garrison and the Panamanian Army defeated the effort. There were no Germans involved in the attack, although I am sure there were advisors in the background. I have directed the local American commander to blow up the locks if capture seems imminent and to inform the Germans of our intent. If we can’t have the Canal, then nobody can.”

Pershing nodded. Lack of access to the Canal would force German supply ships to go the long way, or unload at Vera Cruz and ship overland. Either way, it created a monumental logistics problem for them.

The meeting ended and Pershing departed. March opened the connecting door to the adjacent office. President Lansing stepped in. He was clearly unhappy at what he had overheard.

“What Pershing said is deeply saddening,” Lansing said. “Unfortunately, it has the ring of truth, and I suppose that reality will be far more complex and daunting.”

“Mr. President, do you wish General Pershing to be the general commanding ground operations against the Germans and Mexicans?”

“Is there another choice?”

“Leonard Wood and Liggett himself are the only two others. Wood has too many political ambitions and has never led large numbers in battle, while Liggett’s presence is required in California. I propose we give General Wood command over the eastern coastal defenses and task Pershing with ultimately driving out the Germans, however long it takes. Is Pershing acceptable to you and do you agree that his first focus must be Texas?”

Lansing took a deep breath. He was in the position of Abraham Lincoln sixty-odd years earlier. Would he choose a McClellan or a Burnside or a Hooker who would lead them to disaster? Or would he be fortunate and select perhaps a Grant.

“Pershing it is.”

* * *

The sound of an approaching train woke Luke. He’d been dozing in a field in the outskirts of San Diego. Incredibly, the slow-moving Germans hadn’t yet taken it. The city itself was largely abandoned. Thousands of residents, now refugees, had departed on roads headed north, joining a growing mass of humanity heading out.

He’d arrived a couple of hours earlier, and again by plane. He was beginning to get used to the lunacy of being in the air with only canvas and wood keeping him up. He admitted to his extremely young pilot that it was exhilarating. The pilot had laughed and said that’s why he flew.

Patton nudged him. “Hammer-man, you expecting a train? If so, it’s coming from the east.”

Luke shook the cobwebs from his brain. “Christ, and that’s where the Germans are.”

Patton swore. “Of course it is, my friend.”

Patton now commanded half the 7th Cavalry, but his half of the regiment was down to fewer than two hundred effectives. Others had been siphoned off to other places to nibble at the German advance, while all too many others were dead or wounded. He had about two hundred men to hold San Diego.

The train came into sight. It consisted of one locomotive and maybe twenty freight and flat cars. They were filled with men.

“As I suspected,” Patton said, “German soldiers. And the country is so defenseless they just ride up like they were on a Sunday trip to Grandma’s. Damn them. At least we’re as prepared as we can be, and the German fleet hasn’t arrived yet.”

The consensus in San Francisco was that the Germans had shelled San Francisco just to show they could, and were on their way to San Diego, which they would use as a California port once their army had taken it.

“Open fire!” Patton yelled and two hundred soldiers emptied their bolt action Springfields at the crowded Germans. Although slowing, the train was still moving and the Germans were temporarily trapped. Finally, it slowed enough for them to jump off and begin to return fire. The clatter of a machine gun joined the din.

Patton cursed. “Of course they have machine guns. They always have machine guns.”

A second German machine gun opened up, then a third. Dirt from bullets kicked up uncomfortably near them. Someone screamed.

Luke grabbed Patton’s arm. “It’s not getting any better, George, there’s another train coming.”

Patton gave the order to pull back. His men gathered their wounded and their dead and piled them on horse-drawn carts. That was another thing, why didn’t the American Army have trucks?

The Germans at the rail line were content to consolidate their position and didn’t follow. The Americans began to head north, all the while keeping an eye out for German planes.

“Y’know Luke,” Patton said thoughtfully. “There are train lines all over the place and headed in all directions. If the Krauts could hop a train and ride into San Diego virtually unopposed, what’s to stop them from taking trains to Los Angeles, or, hell, San Francisco?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Okay, you find your little plane and pilot and get your ass back to Liggett and tell him I’m going to start destroying tracks and bridges as I pull back north. And then tell him that he’d be smart to do it anywhere else he can. If he doesn’t the Germans might just unexpectedly drop in at the Presidio for lunch.”

* * *

Elise Thompson sat primly, her notebook on her lap. Ensign Cornell sat along the wall across from her, a crutch beside him. He winked and she tried not to smile. Admiral Sims appeared not to notice, but she thought he had. General Liggett and Colonel Nolan completed the group in the conference room adjacent to Liggett’s office. The decision had been made to keep it small. Larger groups often resulted in too much posturing by people jockeying for promotion.

The admiral smiled and began. “Miss Thompson will keep notes. I will edit them later in case we say something too treasonous. General, with your permission I will begin.

“Like yourself, General, I have been promised little or nothing in the way of reinforcements. The squadron I have is bottled up in Puget Sound, where it is safe but accomplishing little except that it keeps a larger squadron of German ships occupied. However, I do believe that my small fleet can still be of use at this time.”

Cornell’s ears perked up. He’d heard that Sims held views that were radical, even heretical, in a navy that worshiped battleships.

Sims had made a name for himself by revolutionizing the way navy guns were aimed and fired. Many captains had come to the horrible conclusion that their ships couldn’t hit anything. The human mind couldn’t do the calculations necessary to enable the guns to aim at objects moving at speed and in different directions, and then hit what they thought they’d aimed at. Sims, along with an equally brilliant Royal Navy officer, had devised an electronic range finder that did the work. That and extensive gunnery practice, of course.

“First,” said Sims, “the Germans sank or badly damaged three older battleships at Mare Island. They were little more than floating targets when the Germans arrived because I had stripped them of their crews to enable the two newer ones to flee after the
Arizona
. In doing so I did the older ships and their crews a favor. Had they fought the Germans, they would have been destroyed. Had they fled, they would have been caught and sunk. The older ships had half the firepower of the German battleships that attacked them. However badly damaged they might be, those three old ships still have many of their guns. If given enough time, some of the damaged guns can be repaired. I propose that those guns that can be salvaged be removed, shipped from Mare Island to here, and mounted on either side of the Golden Gate and elsewhere to protect San Francisco.”