Текст книги "Stars and Stripes Triumphant"

Автор книги: Harry Harrison

Соавторы: Harry Harrison,Harry Harrison
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COMMAND DECISION

General Sherman had met President Lincoln at the White House. From there they strolled over to the War Office together. They talked a little about the hot weather that had seized the city in a relentless grip for almost two weeks now. Then Sherman inquired about Mrs. Lincoln’s health, which was improving. Lincoln reported that everyone was pleased that General Grant’s wounded arm had healed so well. They talked about everything except the matter that was of the greatest concern to them. But Gus Fox had been adamant about this; no discussions about the details of the trip aboard Aurora unless it was in Room 313. Which was where they were headed now.

The two guards snapped to attention when they came down the corridor.

Sherman returned the salute, then rapped on the door. Fox unlocked it from the inside and stepped aside so they could enter. He locked the door behind them, then crossed over the small anteroom and unlocked the other, inner room. Once inside, they discovered that the windows were all closed and sealed and it was stifling hot.

“Just a moment,” Fox said, quickly throwing wide the curtains and opening both of the windows. Thick bars prevented any access from outside, but at least the air could circulate now. Lincoln took out his kerchief and patted his face and neck dry, then dropped into an armchair, letting his long legs dangle over one arm.

“Am I at last to discover the facts about your mysterious mission?”

“You are,” Sherman said. “It was dangerous, perhaps foolhardy, but since it was very successful, I imagine that the risks were justified. I suggest that you tell the President about our Russian friend, Gus.”

“I will do just that. It all began while we were all still in Brussels; that was when we met a Count Korzhenevski, someone very high up their navy – and in their military intelligence as well. I can vouch for his authenticity because I have had contacts with his organization in the past. He speaks perfect English and was educated in England, and actually attended Greenwich Naval College. However, since the Crimean War, he has grown to detest the British who invaded his country. Knowing about our difficulties with Britain, he saw our two countries as natural allies. That was when he made a very generous offer, when he told us that he would like to put his yacht at our disposal. To take us wherever we wished to go.”

“Very nice of the Count.” Lincoln smiled. “You should have asked him to take you to England.”

“That is just where we went.”

The President was rarely caught out – but he was this time. He looked from one to the other of them with bewilderment.

“Do you mean that? You – went there?”

“Indeed we did,” Fox said. “In the guise of Russian officers.”

“I’ve heard some tall stories in my time, but this beats the pants off any of them. Pray tell me, in greatest detail, about where you went and just what you did.”

Sherman sat back and listened in silence while Gus outlined the various aspects of their precarious journey. For the moment the President did not appear to be interested in what they had discovered, but rather in all the surprises and close escapes in their exploration of the English mainland.

Gus finished, “…we sailed all that night and reached Dublin in the morning. That is when we heard about the naval engagement between the two ironclads. Of course we had to return here, so that was the end of our little voyage of exploration.”

Lincoln leaned back with a heavy sigh – then slapped his knee with enthusiasm. “If I had heard this story from anyone else, Gus, anyone other than you, why, I would say he got the liar of the year – no, of the century! – award. You were right not to have informed me of your plans before you left. I would have vetoed them instantly. But now that you have returned, about all I can say is – well done!”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Sherman said. “In hindsight our little voyage of exploration does appear a mite foolhardy. But we got away with it. We have studied the English ports, cities, and countryside. And we have taken the measure of their defensive ability. It was intelligence hard gained – unhappily at the price of a man’s life. One of the Russian sailors was killed when the ironclad fired on us. But the trip was well worth doing, I assure you.”

“And your conclusions?”

“Militarily we know a great deal more about the British defenses than ever we did before. What is to be done with that knowledge of course depends upon the state of international affairs. The newspapers are all in a frazzle and contain more rumor than news. Before I go on, I would like to hear about the official reactions of the British to the loss of their ship.”

The lines of worry were deep cut between Lincoln’s eyes again. He had forgotten his troubles while listening to the tale of their daring adventures. Now memory flooded back.

“They are livid, intransigent, calling their men to arms, preparing their country for war. They demand immediate payment of ten million pounds’ compensation for the loss of their ironclad.”

“Can war be avoided?” Sherman asked.

“If we pay them the millions that they ask for, and stop shipping our cotton to world markets, also permit their men-of-war to arrest and search all of our ships at sea, and more. They have endless demands and bristle with threats. The situation is very tense.”

“How did the naval engagement come about?”

“I doubt if we will ever know. Captain Semmes says that his ship was fired upon. His officers and men all agree with him. That is what they say, and I sincerely doubt that they are lying to us. It still remains a mystery why the British vessel opened fire. The two English survivors knew nothing, other than the fact that there was gunfire and explosions and they were blown into the water. Neither of them appeared to be too bright, according to their interrogators. Apparently they worked in the ship’s galley and were on deck dumping rubbish – which is what saved them. Of course, after they were sent back home, they changed their stories – or they were changed for them – and Virginia is now supposed to have fired in an unprovoked attack. But this matters little. The original cause has been forgotten in the cloud of political invective.”

“Will it be war?” Gus asked, almost in a whisper.

Lincoln sagged back deep into the chair and shook his head with a most woeful expression upon his face.

“I do not know, I cannot tell you… I just have no idea where all this will end.”

“If war comes,” Sherman said with icy resolution, “we will be prepared for it. And I also know now how it can be won.”

They both looked at him, waiting for him to continue. His face was set and he was looking out of the window, not seeing the hot and brassy sky – rather, another land far across the ocean.

“There are many ways to attack a country like that and I am completely sure that I know how it can be successfully done. But first, what we must do is far more important than how we do it. To begin with, unless we want to be immersed in a long, protracted, and murderous war, we must be prepared to fight the new kind of lightning warfare, just as we did in the battle for Ireland. In order to succeed we must first assess the enemy’s strengths – and weaknesses – in every detail. This, along with war preparations, will take some months at least. So I would say that we will be prepared for any venture by spring at the earliest. Can we buy that time?”

Lincoln nodded slowly. “A politician can always buy time; that is the one thing we are good at – that, and wasting time. The negotiations will plow ahead. We will make some concessions, then let them think that there are more are on the way. King Leopold of Belgium has offered us neutral ground on which to discus our differences. We shall avail ourselves of his offer and set in motion the ponderous machinery of international negotiations yet another time.”

“Is there any possibility that they may strike before we are prepared?” Gus said worriedly. Sherman considered the question.

“It is not that easy to launch an attack across an ocean. Surely your intelligence sources will keep you informed of all preparations?”

Gus shook his head. “Our informants in Great Britain were all Irish – and are all now seized or in hiding. But I had many discussions with Count Korzhenevski, and he will be happy to supply us with intelligence from his network there. We are now in the process of arranging a working relationship.”

“I must be informed of all developments,” Sherman said.

“You will be. You as well, Mr. President.”

Sherman returned to the War Department and wrote a number of telegraph orders. It took only a day to make the necessary arrangements. When they were done he sent for Ulysses S. Grant.

“General Grant, sir,” the captain said, opening the door and standing aside.

“Why, you are sure a sight for sore eyes,” General Sherman said, standing and coming around his desk, smiling with obvious pleasure. He started to raise his hand – then dropped it. “How is the arm?”

“Well healed, thank you, Cumph.” Grant proved this by seizing Sherman’s hand and shaking it strongly. Then he looked down at the drawings spread over the desktop and nodded. “I sent these over because I was sure that they would interest you as much as they did me.”

“More than just interest; this mobile gun position is the answer to an unspoken prayer. Of late, my thoughts have been turned to the possibilities of lightning attacks and expeditious victories. This invention of Parrott and Ericsson fits in with all that I plan to do.”

“Do we plan to go to war?” Grant asked, his face suddenly hard and grim.

“A soldier must always be ready for war. If not now, I think that we will be facing the prospect of battle by spring. But please, do sit down.” Sherman seated himself and tapped the drawings. “I need this infernal machine. The British talk of war and are at their most bellicose. It is a possibility that we must consider strongly. That is why I have invited engineer Ericsson to join us this morning.” He took out his watch and looked at it. “He will be here at any time now. Before he comes, I must tell you about a little scouting trip I have just finished to the English shore.”

“You didn’t!” Grant sat back in his chair and laughed out loud. “I swear – you have more brass than an entire band.”

“It was indeed an interesting time. But other than the men who went with me, only you and the President know of the visit – and we must keep it that way. It was a most fruitful exploration, for what I did discover was just how that country could be successfully invaded.”

“Now you do have my complete attention.”

Sherman outlined roughly what he planned to do, including what would be Grant’s vital contribution to a successful invasion. When Ericsson was announced they put away the papers and maps that they had worked on and turned their attention back to the plans for the mobile battery.

“I have many things to do and do not enjoy wasting time on trips to the city of Washington,” Ericsson said testily as he was shown in.

“A pleasure to see you again,” Sherman said, ignoring the engineer’s outburst. “You of course know General Grant.”

Ericsson nodded curtly. Then, “Why was I summoned here?”

“Well, for one thing,” Sherman said, opening a drawer in the desk, “I understand that the navy has been slow in paying you for the new ironclads that are now under construction.”

“Always late! I have a large workforce, and there is iron and steel must be purchased—”

“Perfectly understandable.” Sherman slid an envelope across the table. “I think that you will find dealing with the army much more satisfactory. This is a check for the first payment for the development of the mobile battery.”

Ericsson smiled – for the first time that they had ever seen. Tore open the envelope and squinted down at the check. “Most satisfactory.”

“Good. Then we can get down to work.” Sherman pointed to the drawings on his desk. “I have been examining these in great detail ever since General Grant gave them to me. I have some suggestions.”

Ericsson’s face grew hard. “You are not an engineer…”

“No – but I am the officer in charge of the armies that must use this device. I want you to consider this. The driver and the gunner will be under intense fire from the enemy. Is there any way we can protect them with some armor?”

“That will not be a problem. I have already had this under consideration.” He took a pencil from his jacket pocket and pulled over the drawings. With quick, precise strokes he sketched in an iron shield.

“If we attempt to armor the vehicle on all sides, it would be too heavy to move. But since it will be attacking the enemy, then a shield on the front should provide all the protection that it will need as it rides into battle. The muzzles of the Gatling will fire through this opening in the armor.”

“Sounds most promising,” Sherman said, smiling with pleasure. “How long will it take to build the prototype?”

“One week,” Ericsson said without the slightest hesitation. “If you will be at my works one week from today, you will see the new machine in action.”

“That will indeed be satisfactory.” Sherman tugged at his beard, deep in thought. “But we must have a name for this new invention.”

“I have thought about that. It must be a heroic name. So I suggest Fafnir – the dragon of Norse legend, breathing out fire and destruction on all who oppose it.”

“I think not. We want a name that if it is overheard, or mentioned in correspondence, will be most innocuous and bear no relation to the war vehicle. The secret of its existence must be kept at all costs.”

“Innocuous!” Ericsson’s temper had snapped again. “That is ridiculous. If you want innocuous, then why not call it a bale of hay – or – or a water tank!”

Sherman nodded. “A capital suggestion. A water tank, an iron tank – or just plain tank. So that is settled. But there is another matter that I want to consult you about. A military matter.”

“Yes?”

Sherman took a key from his waistcoat pocket, unlocked the top drawer of his desk, and took out a sheaf of drawings. He slid them across the desktop to Ericsson.

“These are different elevations and details of a fort defending a river bend.”

Ericsson took them and nodded agreement. “Obviously. A typical construction that you will see right across all of Europe. It is roughly a triangular redan. These spurs flank the approaches to the fort, and see, opposite the salients here, the walls take the form of a star, a development of a tenaille trace. This ravelin has an important defense role in defending the main entrance. A well-worn design – but also well past its time. It cannot stand up to modern artillery. I assume you want to reduce this fortress?”

“I do.”

“Easily enough done. Get a siege train within range, and in three or four days you will have reduced the walls to rubble.”

“That will be impossible. It is surrounded by water and swamps. Also – that would take too long.”

“Too long! You want a miracle, then.”

“I don’t want a miracle – but I do want the guns destroyed in hours, not days. I am not interested in the fabric of the fort itself; it will be bypassed in any case.”

“Interesting,” the engineer said, picking up the aerial view of the fort. “The river here, of course. With the guns silenced, the ships of war may pass. You come to me because I am a nautical engineer and this will require a nautical solution. May I take these drawings with me?”

“You may not. Study them as long as you like – but they must not leave this room.”

Ericsson scowled at this prohibition and rubbed his jaw in thought. “All right, I can do that. But one more question: The fleet that sails up this river, will they be riverine ships?”

“No, they won’t be. They will have crossed an ocean before they reach the river mouth.”

“Very good, then.” Ericsson climbed to his feet. “I will show you how it can be done when I see you in a week’s time to demonstrate my new hay bale.”

“Tank.”

“Bale, tank – it is all nonsense.” He started for the door, then turned back. “At that time I will be able to show you how to reduce those guns. An idea I already have been working on.” He went out, slamming the door behind him.

“Do you think he can do it?” Grant asked.

“If he can’t, why, there is no one else in the world who can. He is an original thinker. Never forget that it was his Monitor that changed naval warfare forever.”

On the other side of the Atlantic a far more commonplace event was taking place. In the port of Dover, the morning steam packet from Calais had just arrived after an uneventful crossing of the English Channel from France. Albert Noireau was just one of the many passengers who came down the gangway and stepped onto the English soil.

Most of the other passengers hurried on to board the London train. But a few, like Monsieur Noireau, had business here in the seaport. His visit could not have been intended to be an extensive one, for he carried no baggage. He also appeared to be in no hurry as he strolled along the seafront. Sometimes stopping to gaze at the ships gathered there, at other times he looked at the shops and buildings that faced the docks. One in particular attracted his attention. He peered at the chiseled nameplate outside the door, then went on. At the next turning he paused and looked about. As far as he could tell, he was unobserved. He took a moment to glance at the slip of paper in his pocket and nodded slightly. It was indeed the same name he had been told to look for. Trinity House. He walked back toward it, then entered the public house in the adjoining building. The Cask and Telescope. Très naval.

The newcomer ordered a pint of beer in good English – although he had a thick French accent. His French was perfect, he had lived in France for many years, and had long since submerged Mikhail Shevchuk under his new persona. But he never forgot who his masters were.

It was easy to strike up conversations at the bar. Particularly when he was most generous when his time came for buying rounds. By late afternoon he had talked to a number of pilots from Trinity House and had discovered what he needed to know. To them he was an affable agent for French ship’s chandlers, with well-filled pockets.

They called after him cheerfully when he hurried to get the afternoon packet back to France.

BOOK TWO
THE WINDS OF WAR

SEAGOING THUNDER

The year 1865 ended with a winter of discontent. It proved to be the coldest December in many years, with endless snowstorms and hard ice. Even the Potomac froze over. The British government’s continuing legal and diplomatic assaults on the Americans had eased somewhat when Lord Palmerston, who had never recovered his strength after his stroke and was now in his eighty-first year, caught a chill and, after a short illness, died in October. Lord John Russell relinquished his office of Foreign Minister and became Prime Minister in his place. Government policies continued unchanged, and although there was a brief hiatus when his new government was formed, the pressure on the United States continued into the spring of 1866.

A second delay had occurred in December when King Leopold of Belgium died. His intercession had aided the difficult negotiations between the two countries. His son ascended to the throne as Leopold II, but he was never the diplomat that his father was. Difficulties and confrontations continued unabated, but outright war was still avoided.

Lincoln had kept his promise and bought the time that General Sherman had said that he needed. Sherman was a perfectionist and a very hard man to please, but by March 1866 he felt that he had done everything possible to prepare the country for war. Not just to fight a war – but to win it. It was a raw and blustery day when he met General Grant and Admiral David Glasgow Farragut at Ericsson’s foundry and ship works in Newport News.

“Have you seen the new sea batteries yet?” Admiral Farragut asked, then took a sip from his sherry glass. They were waiting for Ericsson in his office, but as usual, he was busy somewhere else in the giant factory.

“I haven’t,” Sherman said. “And I look forward to them with great anticipation. Our victory or defeat depends on these batteries. But I did inspect the new transports in the harbor here and am more than pleased with them.”

Farragut frowned deeply. “I am concerned with those ramps inside the ship that exit at various levels. They violate the integrity of the hull.”

“They are vital to our success, Admiral. Accurate measurements were made at high and low tide at our intended port, enabling the ramp doors to be precisely engineered to the correct height.” He did not mention how these measurements had been obtained; Fox and the Russians were working closely together.

“The pressure of heavy seas should not be discounted,” Farragut said.

“Presumably not. But Ericsson assures me that the watertight seals on the doors will be satisfactory even in the most inclement weather.”

“I sincerely hope that he is right.”

General Grant looked at the inch of sherry in his glass and decided against adding any more. “I have every faith in our Swedish engineer. He has been proven correct in everything that he has done so far. Have you inspected the gun-carrying tanks, Admiral?”

“I have – and they are indeed impressive. An innovation that I can appreciate, but only abstractly, for I cannot imagine how they will be used in battle. I am more at home at sea than on land.”

“Believe me,” Sherman said, with grim certitude. “They are not only important but are vital to my strategy. They will change the face of the battlefield forever.”

“Better you than me going to war with those contraptions.” Farragut was still skeptical. “The new armored warships with their rotating turrets and breech-loading guns are more in the line of work that I am interested in.”

“The British have new warships as well,” Grant said.

“They do – and I have examined reports on them. I am sure that in battle they will be outgunned and outfought by our own ships.”

“Good,” Sherman said, and turned as the door opened. “And here is the man himself.”

Ericsson muttered something incomprehensible as he hurried to his workbench and rifled through a sheaf of drawings there. His hands were smeared with grease, but he did not notice the dark marks that he made on the drawings. “Here,” he said, extracting a drawing and holding it up for inspection. “This can explain how the sea batteries are constructed. Far better than words can. See?”

His finger traced along the bottom of the drawing, pointing out a thick iron structure. “You will note the mortars are aligned along the centerline of the vessel, directly over this iron keel. When they fire, in turn I must insist, the recoil is absorbed by the keel. Mortars of this size have never been mounted in a ship before. It is my fear that if they were all fired at once, it would blow out the bottom of the hull. Is this clear, Admiral; do you understand precisely what I am saying?”

“I understand clearly,” Farragut said, making no attempt to conceal his anger at the engineer’s overbearing attitude. “All of the ship’s officers have been well briefed. They will fire only when your electric telegraph is activated.”

“The telegraph is just a machine – and it could easily fail in combat. The central gunnery officer sends an electric signal that activates a solenoid at a gun position – which raises the red tag instructing the position to fire. But if the machine is broken, signals must be passed along manually. That is when there should be no confusion. One gun at a time, that is most important.”

“The instructions have been given. All of the officers are aware of the situation and have been trained to act accordingly.”

“Hmmph,” Ericsson muttered, then sniffed loudly. Obviously believing in the perfection of machines – but not of men. His bad temper faded only when he looked at the drawing again.

“You will have noted the resemblance of this design to the Roman military ‘turtle’ defensive maneuver. Where the outer ranks of an attacking party held their shields on all sides to protect them from enemy missiles. While the center ranks held their shields over their heads in a defense similar to a turtle’s shell. So do our sea batteries. There is six inches of iron armor, backed by oak, in the hull, rising higher than the guns. Sections of iron shielding are positioned above to cover the decks for protection. These are hinged on the sides and are opened by steam pistons, but only when the mortars are ready to fire.”

While his description of the shielding was confusing, it was clearly indicated in the drawing.

“Come,” Ericsson said, “we will inspect USS Thor, the first ship completed. The god of thunder – and the one who wields the hammer which will smite the enemy.”

After years of pressure from the inventor to put a Viking name to one of his ships, the Navy Department had relented begrudgingly. However, in addition to Thor, there were the USS Thunderer, Attacker, and Destructor. Apt names for these mighty vessels.

When they left the office building and walked to the dock, they appreciated for the first time the raw strength of the mortar vessels. The guns themselves were siege weapons, never designed to be seaborne. A man could have easily fit into the wide muzzle of one of the barrels; the explosive shell that it fired would wreak hideous destruction on any gun batteries, no matter how well protected.

“Admirable,” Sherman said, nodding as he looked at the grim strength of the sea battery. “Admirable. This is the key that will unlock our victory. Or rather one of two keys to that victory. In the attack the gun-carrying tanks will be in the fore.”

“I will show you now their new protections.”

“I am afraid you must excuse me, then,” Admiral Farragut said. “They are your responsibility, General Sherman, not mine. I have no wish to see them again.”

Not so Sherman and Grant. When they looked at the deadly machines, they saw victory in battle, not black iron and harsh angles.

“This is the latest improvement,” Ericsson said, patting the curved steel shield that protected the gunner. Only the projecting barrels of the Gatling gun could be seen. “The shield, of course you can see that, obvious to anyone, but inside the device itself you will find the works of mechanical genius.” He lifted a door and pointed into the entrails of the machine. “There, to the rear of the engine, you see that casing?”

The two generals nodded that they did, but did not speak aloud the knowledge that it meant nothing to them.

“Consider the transmission of energy,” Ericsson said, and Sherman groaned inwardly at what he knew would be another incomprehensible lecture. “The engine rotates a driveshaft. It must then turn the second shaft on which the wheels are mounted. But they are unmoving. How can the energy of rotation be transmitted to them?”

Ericsson, carried away by his passion for his invention, was blissfully unaware of the looks of bafflement on their faces. “Thus my invention of a transfer case. A roughened steel plate is fastened to the end of the rotating shaft. Facing it is a second steel plate affixed by splines to the wheel shaft. A lever, this one, forces the second plate forward so the two plates meet and the power is transmitted, the wheels turn, the vehicle moves forward.”

“Indeed a work of genius,” Sherman said. If there was any irony in his words, it was lost on the Swedish engineer, who smiled and nodded agreement.

“Your machines are ready for battle, General – whenever you are.”