1901

The piece of paper, one of tens of thousands like it, had become his talisman, his reminder that he had made a choice and had to fulfill it. Somehow, he had to get to the Americans, and the paper served as a reminder that there just might be a better life out in the great land beyond the trench lines.

Ludwig looked around at the men in the tent. Kessel was staring at him with a glowing hate burning in his one good eye. Did the man know about his intentions? It had long become obvious that Kessel was keeping tabs on him and doubtless hoped to exact some measure of revenge. The man was sick as well as evil, of that there was no doubt.

So why didn’t he just slip over the trench wall and out into the woods? The Americans were only about ten miles away and the rain would provide a degree of cover. He could be there by dawn.

He could, he realized with a chill that was caused by fear and not the weather, also be caught by one of the many German patrols that watched over the no-man’s-land. It was said they looked for deserters as much as they watched for the Americans. No, the straight way was not the best way. He would have to wait for an opportunity. He’d seen enough executions recently to keep him satisfied for a lifetime.

From where he sat, alone and disconsolate, Capt. Richmond Hobson could barely see a hundred yards of New York harbor, much less the familiar outlines of Manhattan and Brooklyn. It was so frustrating. Somewhere, only a scant mile or so away, were scores of German ships, mainly transports, but a number of warships as well, and he could not even see them, much less do anything about them. There were always several German ships in the harbor, but this situation was unique and, therefore, tempting. First, a large convoy had recently arrived and was still unloading and reorganizing for the return journey when the storm struck. Then a number of warships, including, he was told, a couple of capital ships, had sought shelter from the storm in the harbor. Somewhere in the mess there might be as many as a hundred German ships of all shapes and sizes.

The storm, they said, was starting to abate. If so, Captain Hobson could not detect it. The winds were a stinging fury and the rains came down not in sheets but in virtual clouds that rendered everything invisible. He looked upward to see the sky and found it a foot above his head.

What was most frustrating was that he was ready. All the weeks, all the plans, and all the work, and he was ready. His tiny force was assembled and ready to strike. It didn’t matter that many of his men were sure they wouldn’t live for more than a few minutes after he gave the signal to get on with it. He was confident they’d persevere. He’d had enough glorious failures. Now was the time for a glorious success.

A fervent and devout man, Hobson prayed for the storm to end soon. He also prayed that it would end at night, and he did that for several reasons. First, his tiny force needed every advantage it could get, and the darkness would help mask its actions. Second, the Germans could be counted on to remain in the harbor until daylight. With no sense of urgency to make them leave the harbor, they, or most of them, would logically wait until dawn in order to make the passage to the open seas a little safer.

Third, and perhaps most important, the darkness would reduce the likelihood of some traitorous New Jerseyite seeing what Hobson was up to and somehow warning the Germans. During the weeks he’d been assembling his little force, it had been kept as great a secret as if he were in a hostile land. Too many of the people of New Jersey were petrified that they might get involved in the war and have their comfortable lives disturbed. He knew this was an overharsh assessment. New Jersey had provided a number of men and units for the army, and many others wanted, like him, to destroy the Germans as soon as possible. But he had to contend with the reality that a small but significant percentage wanted peace at any price, and that price would include sacrificing him and his men. His handsome face wrinkled in a scowl. He would kill them first.

Rains, Trina informed one and all, do not stop weddings. They might stop armies and close businesses, but weddings will go on. Particularly hers. Damnit, hadn’t she waited long enough?