1920: America's Great War-eARC by Robert Conroy Read Free Book Online

Lansing and March along with the actual translated message stating that the Germans were going to invade. A copy of the original German text was included in case anyone on Liggett’s staff wished to question the interpretation.
    Liggett was sixty-three, hugely fat and slow moving, which some mistook for mental slowness, or even stupidity. They were wrong. Liggett was a man of great dignity, and a solid general with a keen and lively intellect.
    He was also a man of some compassion. “For God’s sake, Lieutenant, sit down.”
    “I may fall asleep if I do, sir.”
    “I’ll wake you if I need to.”
    Two days and two sleepless nights in a series of frail and open biplanes, either rented from civilians or owned by the Signal Corps, had left Martel physically and emotionally drained. Nor had he had a moment to freshen up. He’d been met at the little airstrip outside San Francisco by a corporal driving, of all things, a motorcycle with a side car. More wind in my face , he thought, but this time with the added joy of bugs in my teeth.
    A telegram from March to Liggett had directed the general to see to it that Martel be picked up and delivered to him as soon as possible. So, after thousands of miles in an open cockpit in air that was bone-chillingly cold, he had finally arrived in San Francisco and the office of Major General Hunter Liggett.
    He was somewhat gratified to find that his innocuous telegram and phone call to Ike and Patton warning them of a sudden storm from the south had been passed on to Uncle Fox and Uncle Hunter as he’d requested.
    “I presume you have read this?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Is that vomit on your uniform?”
    “It is, sir. Two days in an airplane with utterly insane pilots will do that and I didn’t always make it over the side when we hit an air pocket or a storm. However, sir, there are parts of several states that have been thoroughly decorated by me, or desecrated if you prefer. The secretary of state and General March said it was urgent and that the full text could not be entrusted to the telegraph.”
    Liggett set the messages on his desk. “They were, of course, correct. Are you aware that Lansing is now the president?” Martel was not. It had all transpired while he was in the air.
    Liggett lifted his bulk from his chair. “Martel, I want you to go to your quarters, clean up, and get some sleep. After that, you will report here for assignment as God knows what. I have a feeling events are going to begin moving very quickly and we will all need clear heads.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “But I do envy you, Martel. I would dearly love to go up in an airplane, but I very much doubt there’s one strong enough to hold me. Now get the hell out of here and come back in a more useful state. And by the way, Uncle Fox and Uncle Hunter commend you on a job well done.”
    * * *
    The Germans were not the sort of ally Mexican President Venustiano Carranza would have chosen, but then, beggars could not be choosers. He had needed help in the long and bloody civil war fighting the forces of his rival, Alvaro Obregon, and, in return for some small favors, Germany was more than pleased to comply. The Germans arrived, routed Obregon’s forces and imposed a peace of sorts.
    Now there were hundreds of thousands of German soldiers, engineers, and businessmen in Mexico, and her ports were choked with German warships and transports. Vera Cruz on the east coast and Mazatlan on the west now played host to powerful German Navy squadrons. Mountains of supplies had been moving westward. German efficiency was both incredible and frightening. The border with the United States was essentially frozen, and foreign travelers, especially Americans, were only allowed access to certain areas of Mexico.
    The despised Monroe Doctrine of the equally despised United States was just so much historical rubbish. He had contempt for the arrogance of the U.S. in thinking they could dictate the foreign policy of Mexico and