Текст книги "Stars and Stripes In Peril"

Автор книги: Harry Harrison

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

A THREAT FROM THE SOUTH

It was just a short walk from the White House to the War Department, and Abraham Lincoln enjoyed the few minutes of respite from responsibility. There was a smell of spring in the air – along with the perpetual fetor of horse manure – during these few balmy days in Washington City, between the snows of winter and the humid heat of summer. He passed a dogwood tree just beginning to blossom and stopped to admire it. But could not really enjoy it because of the shadows of the responsibilities weighing him down, his many problems that obscured its beauty. He could not forget the problems in the South – as well as the fate of the former slaves. There were strong forces pitted against the attempts to integrate the Negroes into general society. And of course there were the British, always the British. They were still not reconciled to their defeat. American ships were being stopped at sea and boarded, bringing echoes of the War of 1812. And now there was apparently worse news. The brief message he had received from the War Department hinted at even more threats to the fragile peace, and strongly suggested that he come at once.

Lincoln sighed and went on. The two soldiers guarding the entrance to the War Department came to attention as he approached and smartly presented arms. This effective military display was spoiled slightly by the younger of the two men; obviously a new recruit.

“Fine mornin’, Mr. President.”

“It surely is, my boy, it surely is.”

A more superior military efficiency was displayed when he had climbed the stairs and approached the door of Room 313. The two veteran soldiers there, a corporal and a sergeant, came to attention but did not step aside.

“Just a minute, sir,” the sergeant said, then knocked on the door. It opened a crack and he spoke in a low voice to someone inside. Then the door opened wide and a major, he had never seen the man before, stepped forward and saluted him.

“Would you please come in, Mr. President.”

He did so, and found himself in a small bare room, containing just a desk and a chair. The major locked the outside door before he crossed the room and unlocked the other door on the far wall. This was Lincoln’s first visit to Room 313 and he found it most intriguing. He went through this last door and into the large room beyond. Gustavus Fox, in naval uniform, hurried forward, saluting as he came – then took the President’s outstretched hand.

“You have been mighty busy since I saw you last, Gus,” Lincoln said. “Time you told me about it.”

“Well past time, Mr. Lincoln. But things have kept us very occupied here since the war ended. We realized when we looked closely at what we were doing, without the pressure of war, that it was long past time to rationalize our operations. We were all new at the game and sort of made up the rules as we went along. This made for a lot of duplication of effort. I am still Assistant Secretary of the Navy, but that is my public persona. You, of course, know what my real work is. We have had to expand and add more people. Then the first thing we did was combine the SGSD and the BMI into a single operational unit—”

“Whoa there, young man. As I have said in the past take time and think well upon this subject. Nothing valuable can be lost by taking time. So take a moment, I beg you, to spell out all those letters to me.”

“Sorry, sir. You are right. We must take time to save time. The SGSD is of course the Scouts, Guides, Spies and Detectives. Their records were kept by the Provost Marshal General’s Office. They had the files of all the correspondence, records, accounts and related records of the military scouts, as well as the guides. In addition there were masses of reports from the spies and detectives. There was an awful lot of paper, let me tell you. When we started to sort things out we found that in many cases reports never reached us, or efforts were duplicated since there was no overall control. That is why we organized the BMI. The Bureau of Military Information. It is our aim to gather all of the intelligence-gathering services under this one roof. All reports, of any kind, will end up here in Room 313. These will be gathered into a single report every night – and a copy of this report will be on your desk every morning.”

“An ambitious idea and a very original one. Do you think that you can do it? As I remember it, there is absolutely no one in the military who likes anyone else looking over his shoulder.”

“You are right of course – it is not easily done. Too many people in the field are used to keeping information to themselves. Commanding generals in particular. Pardon my saying so but they are an ornery lot who are very much used to making decisions on their own. But we are building a powerful weapon to convince them differently.”

“Indeed?”

“We will also be making relevant abstracts from the daily report. These will be wired daily in code to an intelligence officer on their staff. When they begin to see information relating to their individual commands, they should allow reports to move in the opposite direction.”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, my boy. But, as you said – they are an ornery lot.”

“Thank you. We can but try. At the present time only the very upper echelon officers know of our existence – and we mean to keep it that way. To everyone else we are, well, just Room 313.”

Fox led Lincoln to the armchair, across from a leather couch, where the President stretched out his gangling form as he looked around the room. Maps covered most of the wall space between the banks of filing cabinets. Fine mesh curtains draped the windows so that no one on the outside could look in. There were two doors on the far wall – one of which opened now and let in the sound of clattering telegraph bars. A soldier brought in a sheet of paper and gave it to Gustavus Fox without comment. He glanced at it and put it aside.

“It is Mexico that concerns us most at the present time,” he said.

“Concerns me too. It is a well-known fact that the Mexican government has borrowed millions from Britain and France – and appears to be unwilling or unable to pay them back. I would normally feel that we have had enough problems of our own to worry about, not to take the time to bother our minds about our neighbor to the south. But I just don’t like the way that the Emperor Napoleon and the English Queen have sent over military bill collectors by the thousands to lay their hands on the Mexican national treasury.”

“You are very correct, Mr. President. They came as bill collectors – but they have stayed as an army of occupation. The French have even managed to arrange a rigged vote requesting that the Archduke Maximilian of Austria be established as Emperor. The whole world knows that the ballot was a complete fake – but Maximilian has managed to convince himself, against all evidence, that there really was a public call for him. He and his wife, the Belgian princess Carlotta, have now arrived and, supported by the French armies, he rules in their name. And there is much worse.”

Lincoln folded his legs on the chair before him, wrapped his arms around them and shook his head. “And now I am afraid that you are going to tell me the bad news.”

“Not I – but one who has an intimate and personal account of events in Mexico. Does the name Ambrosio O’Higgins mean anything to you?”

“It rings a distant bell. Yes, there was a politician by that name! Wasn’t he the governor of Chile?”

“He was. An Irishman who made his mark in the new world. His son, Bernardo O’Higgins, helped throw the Spaniards out of Chile and went on to govern the country as well. The O’Higgins family has been prominent in South American history. Now the namesake of the first O’Higgins, Don Ambrosio O’Higgins, is following in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps. But he is making his mark in Mexico, not Chile, this time. He is the man I want you to meet.”

Fox pressed a button fixed to a table next to him; a moment later the second door opened and a clerk poked his head in. “Tell Lobo to come in now,” Fox said. When the door had closed again he added, “We use code names wherever possible to keep the identity of our agents secret.”

“A wise precaution. And that is surely a magic button you have there,” Lincoln said.

“Not really. It’s run by electricity, like the telegraph. When I press it, it rings a bell in the other room.”

“Well I will just have to get one of them for myself. I can press away all day and surely keep my secretaries on the hop.”

They both stood when O’Higgins came in. A dark-haired young man, still in his twenties. He was tanned by the sun, as dark as any other Latin-American, but none of them had his pale-blue eyes of the Celt. With true Irish loquacity he spoke first.

“President Lincoln, I am merely speaking the truth when I say that meeting you now makes this the most memorable moment in my life. I fight for a country’s freedom and look to you, the leader of the world’s greatest democracy, to be a guiding light in the darkness for all of those who battle for justice and democracy of our own.” He took Lincoln’s extended hand in his own and held it tightly, looking at the same time into the president’s eyes. Lincoln smiled.

“If you can say that just as well in Spanish,” he said, “why, young man, I predict a great future for you as a politician.”

“Someday, perhaps – when the oppressors have been driven from the land. Yes, then I might very well seek public office. Because if any lessons can be learned from history, it is the sad truth that too many rebellions are lost after victory. It appears that fighters rarely make good politicians. But for now my work is to see that the dark forces of the invaders are defeated and driven from the land. Only when this has been done will there be the free elections that will permit me to then consider the possibility of being a politician.”

“An understandable goal. But for the moment you are a—”

“Spy. An undercover agent. What you will. Mr. Fox has given me the code name of Lobo. So it is as the lone wolf that I spy for him.”

“And you have just returned from Mexico?”

“I have. Late last night. You must understand that this was no spur-of-the-moment idea. I went there at the behest of Mr. Fox, here. A gentleman whom I am happy to have served in the past. I had never visited Mexico before he sent me there. Now I can truthfully say that I have a great affection for these downtrodden Mexicans. It is Mr. Fox here whom I must thank for giving me the opportunity to meet and understand these much-oppressed people. I have grown to understand and admire them. But for now I am Mr. Fox’s humble servant.”

“Not that humble,” Fox said. “But Mr. O’Higgins’s linguistic abilities, coupled with a flair for this kind of work, has made him into one of our most reliable agents. For some time now we have had reports of foreign troop movements in Mexico. They were most disturbing and we needed to know much more. This was when I asked him to leave Spain, where he has served with great efficiency, and travel to Mexico to discover just what was happening. If you will look here…”

They followed Fox across the room to one of the large maps.

“ Mexico,” he said, tapping the green, inverted triangle of that land. “The French landed in strength last year, here in the port of Vera Cruz on the Gulf coast. They suffered a major defeat last year on the fifth of May, in the battle of Puebla. Over a thousand of their troops were killed. But the Emperor Napoleon was too committed by this time to the conquest of Mexico, so he has sent thirty thousand fresh troops under the command of General Forey. A far more able general than his predecessor – who since his arrival defeated all of the Mexican armies that he has engaged in battle. Under the pretence that he is ‘liberating’ Mexico – from its own army! In addition he is a politically knowledgeable man. With his troops standing by at the ballot boxes he has held mock elections. These are a complete fraud, but Forey has used the results to convince the French government as well as the Archduke Maximilian of Austria that he is really the people’s choice. So now the Emperor Maximilian rules from the palace of Chapultepec.”

“And this young man has reported all this to you?”

“Part of it. We have been keeping close watch on the French for some time – even before the war ended. Since we have other agents in Mexico, Lobo was sent to investigate a totally different matter. A very quiet invasion right here, on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. This is where the events of a most serious nature are occurring.”

Lincoln leaned close as Gustavus Fox ran his finger across the map, tapping the thin neck of land that connected Mexico with Central America. “That name is most familiar,” Lincoln said. “Yes, I do remember, it was just before the last election. A matter of some two million dollars was needed as I remember. It almost passed Congress.”

“It almost did. That was the McLane-Ocampo Treaty of 1859. This country wanted to open a trade route to California. The two million dollars would have given the United States the perpetual right of transit across the isthmus. Unhappily, the treaty agreement was narrowly defeated. It now appears that someone else has been studying history and has had the same idea. You will notice that Mexico narrows greatly here to the south, so that only a narrow isthmus, barely a hundred miles of land, separates the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Here, on the Pacific shore, is where the unusual activity is taking place. Earlier reports were very vague. That was why I sent O’Higgins there to find out what we could. His report is most detailed and most accurate. There are troops there, many of them, regiments of soldiers. And they are not French or Austrian.”

Lincoln looked up, startled.

“They are British,” Fox said grimly. “Our recent enemy seems to be thinking about war and invasion again.”

“A road,” O’Higgins said. “Would you believe that they have invaded Mexico, right here, and are now engaged in building a road across the isthmus from one ocean to the other. I have watched them laboring to cut through what has been, up to now, the trackless jungle. I do not envy them their labors in the heat. Many of them sicken and die at this thankless task. But troop transports arrive from across the Pacific quite often and their numbers grow. I have reported all of these facts to Mr. Fox, as well as the names and the numbers of the regiments of troops involved.”

“They are all troops from the various countries of the British Empire,” Fox said. “Indian for the most part, as well as some English regiments that were stationed in the remote corners of the Empire. And I believe what they are planning is obvious, although I have no exact knowledge as such. I am sure that when I get reports from our agents in Britain they will support what is, so far, just a supposition.”

“Which is?” Lincoln asked.

“Invasion,” Fox said. Striding over to a map of the United States and tapping the Gulf coast close to New Orleans. “In the soft underbelly of our country. They can pick a landing site, anywhere from Texas to Florida, and land there in overwhelming numbers. There is a thousand miles of coastline here, and it is impossible to defend all of it at the same time. Troop transports in ballast could leave England and sail swiftly across the Atlantic, protected all of the way by warships. Without advance knowledge of their course, position and strength, there is little that we could do to stop them. Once they have reached Mexico they could load the soldiers from the east here, at the port of Vera Cruz, on the Atlantic shore. And the new road is going to that seaport.”

“You are sure of that?” Lincoln asked.

“With my own ears,” O’Higgins said. “I heard two of their officers talking and they mentioned that city as the road’s destination. I had heard it mentioned before, in passing, but these officers were quite positive about it. Of course they had no idea that I could understand what they were saying.”

“This is indeed unhappy news,” the President said, shaking his head. “I had hoped that our cousins in Britain would come to their senses once they had been defeated. It appears that defeat has only incensed them the more.”

Fox nodded in somber agreement. “Their plan is a good one. They can mass overwhelming troops at Vera Cruz, bring in the transports – then strike! Once the soldiers are boarded and at sea, guarded all the way by ironclads, they can attack at any time – and at any place they might wish. If they can strike fast enough, before reports reach us, why there is no way that we can stop them from putting those troops ashore.”

“This is terrible, disastrous,” Lincoln said. “Then – what can be done?”

“The answer to that is a simple one. But it might be very difficult to achieve.”

Lincoln looked puzzled. “Please enlighten me.”

Fox touched the map of Mexico again. No, he did not touch it – he slammed his fist hard onto it.

“We stop them here. We stop the road being built. We harass the troops and make it impossible for them to reach the Atlantic Ocean. Without these troops there can be no invasion.”

“That is a tall order, young man,” Lincoln said. He approached the map, put his finger on Texas, then traced down the length of Mexico to the isthmus. “That is a powerful long way to march our men. And powerfully hard to do with all those Frenchmen with guns sitting along the route.”

“That will not be necessary,” O’Higgins said. “There is a word in Spanish that does not exist in English. The word is guerrillero. It means those who fight the guerrilla, the little war.”

“You have left me in the dark, Mr. O’Higgins. Please enlighten me. Dare I ask you how fighting a little war will help us win a big one?”

“To answer that you must look to the first Emperor Napoleon who invaded Spain. His mighty war machine, that had conquered all of Europe, had little difficulty in defeating and destroying the Spanish and Portuguese armies. But they could not defeat the Spanish and Portuguese people of the Iberian peninsula. They fled to the mountains before his attack, and fought their little war from the security of their rocky fortresses. They harassed the lines of communication so vital to an army. They struck at any weak points, vanishing into the mountains again before they could be caught. That is the little war that the Mexicans also know how to fight so well. Here in Oaxaca, Guerrero, even the valley of Mexico, there are guerrilleros who have never surrendered to the invaders, who are still fighting. It is the noble tradition of these people. And here, in the jungles of Yucatan, there are the Mayans. They have never been defeated. Not by the Spanish invaders – or anyone since. They still speak Mayan and refuse to learn Spanish. With people like these on our side the English will never build this road. So they will never invade the United States – at least not by this route.”

Lincoln turned to Gustavus Fox. “Can this be done?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not. These guerrilla armies are already fighting the French, although they are very badly supplied. If we can arm them with modern weapons, aid them with supplies and ammunition, why then there is every possibility that it could be done.”

“Let me know just what you need and tell the War Department the same. If they give you any problems – why just send them around to see me. This whole thing makes very good military sense.” He started towards the door, then turned back rubbing his jaw in thought. “If we can lick the English this way – why can’t your fighters of the little war do the same thing to the French?”

“We can,” Fox said. “That is an astute observation, Mr. President. The simple answer is that we are already implementing plans to do just that. The Mexicans who are fighting back against the invaders are poorly armed. When the French first loaned money to Mexico, they held a good part of it back for weapons for the Mexican army. Being parsimonious in a very Latin way they saved money by supplying smooth-bore muskets for the most part – many of them actually used in the battle of Waterloo! So when the guerrilleros seized the enemy’s weapons they got very little for their efforts. We are changing all that. Our army has left caches of modern weapons and ammunition close to the Mexican border. Information has been passed to the guerrilla bands. Soon the French will be under attack and will be too busy to even think about aiding their English allies.”

“Will the Mexicans fight the French, Mr. Fox?”

“They have never stopped fighting them, Mr. President. Even though their president, Benito Juarez, had to flee to the United States for safety. Before he returned to this country, in fact as soon as he landed in New Orleans, O’Higgins made a coded report to me by telegraph. As soon as I received it I contacted the Mexican ambassador here in Washington City. He in turn telegraphed Juarez in Texas. If the train arrives in time President Juarez will be here this afternoon.”

Lincoln climbed to his feet and slammed his fist into his hand. “Capital! We must now coordinate all efforts.” He paced the length of the room and back. “Firstly, troops, an honor guard, must be sent to greet him. Led by a general who will officially receive him. Then I want him brought here to the War Department. Is General Sherman here?”

“He has an office on this floor.” Fox made quick notes.

“See that he joins us, as well as Secretary of War Stanton. Now what about Generals Grant and Lee?”

“Both of them in the field, I am afraid.”

“We could have used their wise judgement. Unhappily we must do without. Who else?”

“Since the possible invasion that is being planned will be by sea, perhaps the Secretary of the Navy should be at the meeting as well.”

“Very good. See that Welles joins us on the behalf of our seagoing forces. Let me know when they have been assembled. In the meantime I have much other work to do.”

Hay poked his head around the door and Lincoln looked up from the mountain of paperwork before him.

“You wanted to be notified as soon as the Mexican party arrived.”

“I did indeed,” Lincoln said, happily pushing the papers away from him. “Let’s get over there.”

When the President entered the flag-draped conference room the others were already assembled there. Secretary Stanton made the introductions, first to Ambassador Matias Romero, a thin, dark-skinned, dark-haired man with gray hair at his temples.

“President Juarez, unhappily, does not speak English. If you would permit I will translate for him.”

Romero lifted his hand and Benito Juarez came forward. He was a small and unprepossessing man in a black suit and black tie. His skin was very dark and he had the typical high cheekbones and square nose of a Zapotec Indian from Oaxaca. He looked most commonplace – but Lincoln knew that this was the man who had led the Liberals to victory in the last election and who had united all of Mexico.

“It is my pleasure to greet you,” Lincoln said, “as the leader of our sister republic to the south. And to help you, if possible, in your continuing battle against the usurpers who occupy your country.”

Romero translated as Juarez spoke.

“I, all of us, appreciate your aid. This so-called emperor, this foreign prince forced upon us by the French armies, has attacked the rights of others. He has seized our goods, assaulted the lives of those who defend our nationality, who makes of these virtues crimes, and his own vices a virtue. But there is one thing beyond the reach of such perversity – the tremendous judgement of history.”

Lincoln nodded agreement. “Well said, Mr. President. But I would like to give history a helping hand if that is at all possible.” He looked around. “Now has anyone here any idea of how that can best be done?”

“We discussed it in some depth before you arrived,” Stanton said. “I believe that General Sherman is the one most versed in these matters.”

Sherman had been staring at the map of Mexico that had been mounted on an easel. His cold eyes, like those of a bird of prey, seeing into the future. Seeing the movement of men and machines. Seeing death.

“The French, Belgian and Austrian troops have occupied all of the large cities. Here, here and here. As well as all of the smaller cities if they are of any strategic value. While the Mexican armies have all been destroyed, the guerrillero bands are still active in these mountains and jungles. These are men who know the country and know how to fight in it. What I propose to do is to supply them with modern rifles and ammunition – and as many cannon as we can get to them through Texas. Once they are armed they will push south. I see no reason why they should not be able to vanquish the French in the field. If the enemy makes a stand in any cities on the way, the cannon will drive them out. As the new army sweeps south it will gain men from the guerrilleros along the way. So, the situation will be such that it will be the direct opposite of the usual attacking force, in that it will gain strength as it advances, instead of growing weaker and weaker as it would normally do through attrition.”

Juarez said something to Romero who nodded, then spoke.

“The president says that he will write letters to the various commanders that will be encountered on the way, so they will know that they are fighting in his cause and that of Mexico. He also says that the men in the mountains are poor – and very hungry. If they could receive some money as well as the guns they will be able to carry the war to the enemy.”

“That will surely be done,” Lincoln said. “But what of those British troops in the south? How can we reach them?”

“I have talked to Mr. O’Higgins,” Sherman said. “He assures me that the men now in the Oaxaca mountains will be able to take care of that. He has volunteered to contact their leader, Porfirio Diáz. I sincerely hope that it will be possible for him to accomplish this mission.”

“Diáz will do it,” Juarez said. “If any man in the world can do it – he is the one who can.”

“Good,” Lincoln said. “But what will our army be doing while all these battles are going on? Surely our efforts to supply the Mexicans in the north of their country is a magnanimous one and will enable them to drive out the French. But what of the south, in Oaxaca? To me it looks very much like we are asking the fighters there to pull our chestnuts out of the fire. I imagine this British invasion is doing them no harm at the present time. And when the British leave, or are driven out, why they will leave a nice little road behind. Surely our own army can do something to combat the invasion.”

“They certainly can, Mr. President,” General Sherman said. “I have given it much thought. As soon as the present operation is organized and set into motion I shall have the plan in your hands.”

“I look forward to reading it, General. But for now – all aid to the Mexican fighters. And the beginning of the expulsion of the invaders.”