1901

Finding the school, abandoned, derelict, and vandalized by unknown hands, had made him feel sick at heart. He was supposed to be teaching people, not carrying a rifle in order to kill them. What was the kaiser’s purpose in this? Certainly Ludwig was proud of Germany, proud that the disparate collection of petty kingdoms and occasional tyrannies had been bound together in one nation. But did it have to be with the soulless Prussians in charge? Why not the Bavarians? Then, instead of war, they could have challenged the Yanks to a beer-drinking competition.

He smiled. There were others who felt as he did. He knew it even though such thoughts were rarely verbalized. Speaking with your eyes, or a gesture, or a tilt of the head could be equally as eloquent. The men were confused, and so was he.

He’d tried to sound out Captain Walter on the topic and had been politely rebuffed. The captain was obviously a different man from the one he’d been before seeing the murdered Americans lying facedown and bloody in the field. That the captain had his own thoughts was obvious also from his eyes and the manner in which he turned his words and phrases. He conveyed that the Germans were totally correct in their support of the kaiser and the empire. But was there a hint of something else?

Yet what to do? There were other indications all was not well. The food, for instance. America was a land of plenty, yet the army was, to a large extent, existing on rations shipped over from Germany. Oh, there was plenty of ammunition and weapons, and they expected heavier uniforms and other equipment to be shipped over soon, but food? If the quality of the slop on his plate was any indication, they were in for a long, lean, and nauseating winter.

Good God, could they be here all winter? With this swill for food? It was even difficult to obtain water. Just the other day they’d been refused the use of a well by an old woman at a farm. When Captain Walter politely offered to pay her, the woman had spat on the ground and told the captain to go to hell. He had flushed and done what was necessary: his men were thirsty so they took the water while the woman’s angry eyes bored holes in them. When Sergeant Gunther offered her a few American coins, she’d hurled them at him. At that point, Kessel had threatened her and Sergeant Gunther had cuffed him on the side of the head, knocking him down and drawing blood. Welcome to America.

The 4th Rifles had received no replacements. Of the twelve hundred men who’d landed on Long Island only a few months ago, scarcely nine hundred remained fit for duty. Eighty had been killed and a hundred or so wounded. Another fifty were listed as missing. What did that mean? Did they fly away? He snorted. They had deserted, and everyone and his brother knew it. The officers, in a not very subtle manner, used the murder of the Americans to discourage further desertions, saying the Yanks would kill anyone who tried to come over, but it hadn’t stopped some of them from trying. A couple of would-be deserters had been captured, and the men of the 4th had been assembled to watch the hangings. What wonders that did for morale!

Weber heard the sound of mild cheering and wandered up to a group of men from his company.

“Ludwig, did you hear the great news?”

The speaker was Ulli Muller, a younger-than-average recruit from Saxony. A nice boy, he was generally considered to be not very bright. “No, Ulli, I haven’t. Please enlighten me.”

“It’s finally come through. We get a week in New York. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Sure is,” Weber replied jovially. He clapped Ulli on the shoulder and walked on. Sure it was wonderful. In a pig’s eye. Despite Ludwig’s earlier eagerness at the prospect, he was depressed. They’d get to see the ruins of Brooklyn and German cruisers blocking the view of the Statue of Liberty, the symbol of freedom. Rumors told him that Manhattan was a virtual ghost town. It would be difficult to square the current reality with his youthful memories of bustling crowds, colorful sounds, and marvelous smells. Perhaps someone would try to sell Ulli the Brooklyn Bridge.

The sound of laughter once again interrupted his thoughts. Ulli was bragging about how he was going to get laid once he got to New York. The humor of the situation overcame Weber’s bad mood. Ulli was such an oaf. All he thought about was women. “Ulli, you are nothing but a penis with suspenders,” Ludwig shouted. Ah, such innocence. Such depraved innocence.

Holstein and Schlieffen walked the garden slowly, as befitted men of their age. For Holstein in particular, walking was an unwelcome chore in which he indulged infrequently. He preferred instead to think, exercising his still-supple mind and not his aging body with its myriad aches and problems. This time, however, he had deferred to the chief of the Imperial General Staff’s suggestion that a little fresh air might be in order. Besides, the flowers that surrounded them, whatever they were named, were truly lovely.