Tidal Effects (Gray Tide In The East Book 2) Read online

  Chapter Three

  Washington, D.C., April 25, 1923

  The 29th President of the United States, Frank Orren Lowden, smoothed his hair down for the tenth time in as many minutes, then sighed, his cheeks puffing out as he let out a long breath. He examined the papers spread across his desk again, as if hoping to find something other than what he had seen the first three times. Then he raised his head and looked all around the Oval Office, as if the solutions to his problems might be hidden in the dark green wallpaper or inscribed on the decorative moldings where the walls met the ceiling. His visitor waited patiently for the President to return to the business at hand.

  The President fixed his gaze on the visitor. “Are you absolutely certain that we can rely on the accuracy of these drawings, General Wood?” he demanded.

  “As I have already said, sir, I believe we can place our full faith in their accuracy…” Secretary of State Leonard Wood replied. The President raised his hand as if he was about to ask another question, so Wood hastily added, “…and can absolutely rely on the interpretations of them in the accompanying report from the Navy Department. The conclusion that the Germans are building a major naval base on Martinique is based on careful study of those sketches by our top naval experts, and I have no reason to doubt that the conclusion is correct.”

  He leaned forward over the President’s desk. “These shaded areas here will be runways for an aerodrome, and you can see where the frames of the airplane hangars have already been erected,” he said, pointing out each feature in turn with his forefinger. “These thick arches extending out into the bay are submarine pens, or they will be. Over here is a tank farm for diesel fuel. And right here is a dry dock for…”

  “I know what the report says, General Wood,” President Lowden interrupted in exasperation. “I read it. I read the whole thing three times, as a matter of fact. Submarine pens! Aerodromes!” he exclaimed. He banged his meaty fist down on the desk. “God damn Woodrow Wilson, and your predecessor too, that sanctimonious ‘Prince of Peace’ Bryan. What were they thinking, allowing the Germans to acquire a colony in this hemisphere? Didn’t they ever hear of the Monroe Doctrine?”

  The Secretary of State patiently waited for the President’s outburst to pass before responding. “If you will recall, Mr. President, Wilson was asked that very question right after he mediated the Treaty of Bryn Mawr…” this was the peace treaty that had ended the war between Germany and France in 1915, “…and his position at the time was that the Monroe Doctrine applied only in a case where a European power was attempting to colonize an independent nation in this hemisphere. Wilson said that it was never intended to be applied to a situation like this one, where an existing colony was simply being transferred from one colonial proprietor to another, as in the instance of Martinique. If you want my honest opinion, I might even admit that he had a pretty good argument for his interpretation. But suppose he had made an issue of it at the peace conference? What could he have done, exactly? Even if Wilson had asked, do you think this country would have been either ready or willing to go to war over a 400 square mile island in the Caribbean in 1915?”

  The President ran his hand over his hair again. “No, I suppose not,” he admitted, now speaking more calmly. “They sure left us with one hell of a mess, though. It would have served old Woody right if he had been re-elected. Then this baby would have landed exactly where it belongs: in his lap. No, I don’t suppose the country would have been very eager to go to war with Germany, not in 1915, and not over Martinique. I wonder just how ready it is right now. I have a feeling the answer is ‘not very.’ But we can’t sit around twiddling our thumbs and let the German Empire set up a naval base in the…” he paused. “Say, how far is that damned island from the Panama Canal?”

  The same thought had occurred to the Secretary of State even before he had finished reading the report from the Navy Department, so he had consulted a map of the Caribbean before coming over to the White House, and he was ready with the answer. “A little over 1300 miles, sir.”

  “Not close, but too close,” the President muttered. He suddenly sat up straight, and jabbed his finger at Wood. “I am counting on you to find a diplomatic solution to this crisis, General. The Germans will have to back down: they have no hope of winning if war breaks out. Anyway, the Kaiser would have to be insane go to war over Martinique, for God’s sake.”

  Of course, by implication it would be equally irrational for us to declare war on Germany over Martinique, Wood reflected. He did not venture to share this thought with his superior, however. He said only, “I will do my best, Mr. President. There is one thing I must emphasize, sir. It is essential that we keep this under wraps as long as possible. Once it gets in the papers…”

  Lowden nodded. “It will become impossible for the Germans to back down without losing face, and there will be no lack of calls for war from some of the more irresponsible elements of the press here. I will issue the appropriate orders: no non-essential personnel to have access to this information, top secret, and so on.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Wood said. He rose, preparing to leave.

  “I have every confidence you will find a way to resolve the crisis short of war,” the President said, also standing, and extending his hand. “I chose you as Secretary of State because I thought you were the best man in the country for it, and I still believe that.”

  Wood stifled his urge to respond that perhaps the 300-odd delegates he released which gave Lowden the nomination at the 1920 Republican convention might have had something to do with it as well. He shook the proffered hand and said only, “Thank you, Mr. President. I hope I prove worthy of your trust.”

  Wood had been considering various approaches to handling the crisis before his meeting with the President, and he was already turning them over in his mind even before he left the Oval Office. Even so, as he walked back to his own office at the State, War and Navy Building, he did not share the President’s confidence that a peaceful solution was very likely. He was afraid that the situation in Martinique had already gone beyond the possibility of a diplomatic solution, and that the United States and the German Empire were already on the road to war.

  Chapter Four

  Berlin, April 28, 1923

  The Secretary of State for the Colonial Office, his Excellency Gottlieb von Jagow, burst into the office of the Naval Minister, past the young Lieutenant who guarded the outer office as if he were not even present. After one look at the grim expression worn by the normally suave and imperturbable head of the Reichskolonialamt, the young man fell back and Jagow marched through into the inner office, and slammed the door shut behind.

  “What is the meaning of this, Admiral?” he demanded angrily. He brandished a sheet of paper and thrust it at the Naval Minister. “We had agreed that there was to be no announcement until the base was ready to receive the fleet. The whole idea was to keep the project secret until it was too far along to be abandoned. You might have at least consulted with me before making an official announcement.” He smoothed the paper, which he had unknowingly crumpled in his excitement, and read, “‘The Ministry of the Navy is pleased to announce the construction of a modern naval base in the harbor of La Trinitie on the island of Martinique. When completed, this facility will be the future home port for the Imperial Caribbean Squadron.’”

  Seated behind the desk was a huge man, dressed in the dark blue uniform of a Grand Admiral of the Imperial German Navy. His beard was long, white and forked, somewhat resembling a pair of fuzzy, inverted devil’s horns, although there was nothing especially Satanic about his features. His name was Alfred von Tirpitz, and he was the father of the modern Imperial Navy.

  Tirpitz reacted calmly to his uninvited visitor’s anger, gesturing for him to take a chair. “Please sit, Your Excellency,” he said. He waited for Jagow to settle himself before he went on. “I am sure you understand that sometimes events overtake the best-laid plans. There was no time for consultations or meetings:
an immediate decision and instant action were required. A choice had to be made, and I made it. The Americans know all about the base.”

  “They suspect…” Jagow began.

  “They know,” Tirpitz interceded. “We have a source in the State Department who has confirmed that Secretary of State Wood met with President Lowden about the base three days ago. There was a complete report on the site with detailed sketches at the meeting. Lowden ordered Wood to find a diplomatic solution to halt construction. If action was not immediately taken to forestall him, he might have succeeded, to the ruin of our plans.”

  Jagow stroked the ends of his mustache thoughtfully, his earlier anger evaporated. “We were counting on presenting the Kaiser and the Chancellor with a fait accompli. It would be far more difficult for the Kaiser to concede to outside pressure if we could present him with the completed base. In the old days,” he said in a wistful tone, “we would not have had to go behind the Kaiser’s back with a project like this. He would have been all in favor of showing the world our strength. But since the war, all he cares about is developing the new lands in the East. He has completely lost interest in our overseas colonies.

  “But,” he added, returning to the present, “at least with your official press release, the matter will be public enough that the pro-colonial papers will line up behind us and the Kaiser will face a storm of criticism in the press if he gives way to the Americans.”

  “And we know how much he loves reading stories like that,” Tirpitz added. “I am glad you came over on your own, Excellency. I was about to ask you for a meeting to plot strategy. I expect we will be summoned by the All Highest to explain our little project…” he tapped the paper which Jagow had laid on his desk, “… before the day is out.”

  The meeting was held in the Imperial Cabinet Room. The room was embellished with gilt moldings along the ceilings, with oil portraits of former Imperial Ministers on the marble walls. The space was dominated by a long, highly polished mahogany table, which could accommodate at least thirty persons with ease. At the moment, however, only a handful of the elaborately carved Louis XIV chairs were occupied, all around the head of the table. On one side, his bulk overflowing his seat, was the Naval Minister, Admiral Tirpitz. Next to him, to his right, sat the dapper little Colonial Secretary, Jagow. Directly across from them were the Chancellor, Georg Michaelis, and the Minister of War, Crown Prince Rupprecht. Judging by their stony expressions, neither of the latter two men was particularly pleased to see their colleagues on the opposite side of the table. On the table at each place was a leather folder with the Imperial Seal embossed on the cover in gold. Behind the chair of each Minister hovered an aide, briefcase in hand.

  Occupying the seat at the head of the table, naturally, was the Kaiser. The All Highest was particularly bad at concealing his emotions, having had little practice at the art. There was no need to guess what he was feeling, at least. Even the upturned points of the Imperial mustache seemed to quiver with indignation. Leaning forward in his seat, Wilhelm scowled fiercely at Tirpitz and Jagow. The Kaiser’s folder was open, with a copy of the announcement released that morning by the Naval Ministry on top of the pile of papers.

  “I am having difficulty deciding which of two courses to take,” the Kaiser said, glaring at Jagow and Tirpitz, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Perhaps you gentlemen can advise me. I am uncertain whether I should simply demand your immediate resignations, or have both of you arrested and shot for treason. What are your thoughts on the matter, Jagow?” He fixed his glare on the Colonial Secretary.

  The Colonial Secretary was a poor speaker at any time, but he was particularly tongue-tied in moments of stress and this was the most stressful moment in his recollection. He cleared his throat as if he was about to speak, opened his mouth, glanced at Tirpitz, then at the Kaiser, and finally said nothing.

  “That is very sound advice, Your Excellency,” the Kaiser said. He fixed the full force of his glower on the massive Admiral, who returned it with undiminished equanimity. “And what would my Naval Minister suggest I do?” he asked.

  “I serve at Your Majesty’s pleasure,” Tirpitz replied. “If Your Majesty wants my resignation, a letter will be handed in by tomorrow morning. If Your Majesty wishes to arrest me, that is certainly his prerogative. I would not presume to advise him on the matter one way or the other. I can only say that I will remain Your Majesty’s devoted and loyal subject, even when the blindfold is tied over my eyes and the order to shoot is given to the firing squad.”

  “You have an odd way of showing it,” observed Chancellor Michaelis, who had been silent up to that moment. “I for one have difficulty understanding how one so loyal and devoted to the Crown could engage in a conspiracy that may well involve us in a war with a major Power, without first taking the trouble to inform the Kaiser, or any responsible…” he pronounced this last word with caustic precision, “… members of the government beforehand, such as myself, or the Minister of War. At the minimum, I would have expected to see some mention of this new naval base in the budget, but I confess that at the moment I cannot recall any requests for funding this particular project.”

  In point of fact, funds for the new base had been requested under both the Naval and Colonial budgets, Jagow recalled uneasily. Of course, they would have been hard to find, as they had been included in (some might even say “hidden in”) rather broad categories such as “harbor improvement and renovation” and “promotion of commercial development” in a way that some might consider deceptive, so he saw little purpose in bringing the matter to the Chancellor’s attention.

  Tirpitz remained both unabashed and unapologetic. “However the deed was done, the ultimate purpose was and remains a worthy one: the extension of the influence of Your Majesty’s power, so that we may bring the benefits of German civilization to all the world.”

  “Those are noble aspirations indeed, Admiral,” responded Prince Rupprecht dryly. “I am a little hard-pressed to see how becoming involved in a war we cannot win with the United States is likely to advance those particular goals, however.”

  The Kaiser now took up the thread, lifting a sheet of paper from the folder. “This Note came from the American embassy not two hours ago, an interesting coincidence, as I think you will agree.” He paused, waiting to see if either of his erring ministers would respond, then continued when they remained silent. “There are copies in front of you. Read it for yourselves, my loyal and devoted ministers,” he said, the sarcastic lash of his final words making Jagow wince.

  The Colonial Secretary quickly read over the American Note. He was surprised and relieved at the surprisingly moderate tone. “The Americans seem to be taking the news fairly well, under the circumstances. Secretary of State Wood expresses ‘profound concern’ that the new naval facility may result in ‘a deterioration in the relationship between the United States and the German Empire,’ but that is scarcely very belligerent language, all things considered,” he said. “Moreover, he says that ‘this Note should not be considered an ultimatum,’ and that he is confident that we can reach a solution to our differences through peaceful negotiations. Based on this language, Your Majesty, there is no reason to believe that the Americans are contemplating war.”

  “True, the overall tone is quite moderate,” Prince Rupprecht agreed. “On the other hand, Secretary Wood also suggests that the American solution would be for Germany to sell the colony of Martinique to them, ‘to forestall any possibility of future friction over this issue,’ and refers to negotiations only as to the price and details of the transfer, not as to the transfer itself, which does not appear to be subject to negotiation. I might also point out that the disclaimer ‘this Note should not be considered an ultimatum’ might be taken to suggest that the next one may well be.”

  “The American Note was composed before your announcement this morning,” the Chancellor said to the Naval Minister. “Had the matter not become public beforehand, the possibilities of reaching a settlement short o
f war would have been, needless to say, considerably greater. Now, however…”

  “Now, however, we are left with little room for maneuver,” the Kaiser cut in. “A settlement would look as if I had retreated in the face of American threats, and would seriously undermine our international prestige. I don’t suppose that occurred to you, Admiral, when the Naval Ministry announced the building of the base and the formation of this new Caribbean Fleet?” The concluding question was delivered in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

  The Admiral chose not to answer directly. “The Americans are not ready to go to war at this time, Your Majesty. More importantly, they will not be willing to go to war, especially over a small island in the Caribbean. I feel quite comfortable in predicting that if we are firm, it is the Americans who will give way. When they do, it will be a great triumph for Germany. No longer will other nations be able to disregard the position or interests of the German Empire in any future developments in the Western Hemisphere.” He paused, and then added, “Of course, if Your Majesty has lost confidence in me, I shall resign immediately.”

  “And I as well, Your Majesty,” Jagow chimed in.

  Wilhelm shook his head. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. Sacking my two loyal and devoted ministers…” Again, Wilhelm’s voice was redolent with ironic emphasis, “…would be equivalent to admitting that you had acted without my approval, and would signal to the world that I had lost control of my own government. I imagine you included that in your calculations when you launched this little scheme. You started this thing, and now you will see it through to the end. You may both go. Leave me, before I change my mind about the firing squad.”

  The men rose, bowed respectfully to their sovereign, and left the hall, their briefcase-carrying lackeys trailing in their wakes. The Kaiser glared at the backs of the departing ministers until the ornate doors to the cabinet chamber closed behind them. He turned to Chancellor Michaelis.