#42

 

 Enemy Alliances Plot.

Reading between the Lines from Donald Britton Conrad's book: 

Kaiser Wilhelm: In the Service of  God and Evil.

Part II.

 

The Maitre d’hotel entered to announce that lunch was prepared. With joviality at an end, the men silently walked single file toward the dining area. Large and small paintings of famous hunting horses covered the dining room walls. Four diners could sit comfortably around each small table. Everyone selected a comrade to sit by. Soon the room filled up with noisy chatter of men seeking to learn more about each other.

General Joffre said to Kitchener, “I see you need to walk with a cane. How did you come to hurt your leg?”

“During my six years as army commander-in-chief in India, I traveled about sixty thousand miles on tours. One day on my way home to ‘Wildflower Hall’ in Simla, my horse and I passed through a dark tunnel on the road. For some reason, my horse took fright and bolted. I jammed my foot against one of the timber props and fractured my leg above the ankle.”

“It must be painful.”

 

“Yes, but mostly when the weather is bad.”

 

“What do you do when you are not touring?”

 

“I have a passion for fine china. Whenever I come across a rare piece of china, nothing holds me back until I add it to my collection. It has become so bad that some dealers close their doors when they hear that I am coming their way!”

 

Joffre laughed.

 

The two men sat down next to General Rennenkampf and Admiral Jellicoe. Soldiers served lunch promptly and efficiently without interrupting the table conversations.

 

Joffre asked Kitchener, “What do you find most exasperating in your army experiences?”

 

“By Christ, I firmly believe that it is unnecessary correspondence! I drew up a list of maxims for the benefit of newcomers to my staff. First, never write anything. Second, if you want something done, catch the Adjutant General; he is sure to be here tomorrow. Third, if an officer wants leave, catch me if he can! Fourth, if you get leave, go home at once and take care never to come back!”

“Actually, I learned a good lesson that operations, though long and arduous, did not demand a large force. The desirable figure must include exemplary British troops for the decisive battle. Whatever the size of the force one hand must, control it.”

 

“Another, perhaps the greatest, advantage is that the problem before the commander deals only with concrete facts. To look for a good example in military history, the palm for organization goes to the elder von Moltke for his preparations that led to victory against the Denmark in 1864, Austria in 1866, and then France in 1871. The secret of his success lay in the fact that he studied a concrete plan and not an academic problem. Moltke then built his strategy and tactics. Moltke got out his map of his enemies and made out marching tables according to the capacity of the roads that led towards his objective; the rest was comparatively easy."

 

“Today’s preparations are even greater than that in 1871. The details that demand study include calculations about the enemy’s strength; the number of troops that will be required; shipping and other transport; equipment, supplies and munitions; geographical details about harbors and landing places, railways and roads. Then, the authority can make those plans which alone could lead to success.”

Joffre patted Horatio’s hand. “Tres bien, mon ami!”

Kitchener and Joffre returned to their meals. The Frenchman occasionally and unabashedly helped himself from the Englishman’s plate.

“When I was in India,” Kitchener chuckled, “we held a reception to honor the Ameer of Afghanistan. I instructed the bandmaster to play the Afghan national anthem on the arrival of the great potentate. No one ever heard of such a tune. The bandmaster appealed to me."

“I said, ‘It does not matter two straws what is played, as he does not know a note of music. Play two or three bars of something heavy, pompous and slow, and let it go at that.’ The bandmaster finally decided upon what sounded a bit like a march. It played with such success that those newspapers in every city visited by the Ameer printed columns about the beautiful Afghan national anthem! Ever since, it plays at all royal functions in Kabul. Few people recognize the strains of an old German opera. But what the hell, everyone was made happy!”

“That is indeed a great story, Horatio!” exclaimed Joffre while chomping on Kitchener’s biscuit. “Once upon a time a Colonel came to the Grand Quartier Général. He was an expert and an enthusiast of heavy artillery, and he wanted to argue for an increase in that branch of the Service. ‘Je t’ecoute, Monsieur le Colonel. Parles!’ For half an hour, the enthusiast poured out an eloquent stream of double talk on the value of heavy guns. I never said a word. When he finished, I gave him a tap on the shoulder. ‘Ce sacre Colonel, il a toujour bien aimé l’artillerie. C’est bien ca!’ His face changed into one filled with happiness at my praise."

 

“He thanked me and said that indeed his love of cannons lay deep within his soul. Then, I waved him off to avoid another hour of prate!”

Rennenkampf laughed loudly. “We have the same problem in the Russian army. I left a Lieutenant standing inside my tent in Manchuria telling me what he thought was the exact location of Japanese troops. ‘They are five hundred meters, south-southwest from this point, directly behind a knoll that is about fifty feet high.’ Before another word, I was on my horse followed by a thousand Cossacks headed for the sound of the guns! I often wonder if young officer is still waiting to salute me upon my return?”

 

Admiral Jellicoe leaned forward. “I entered the navy as a cadet at the age of thirteen in 1872. I earned my commission eight years later. My indeed, naval training has changed since those halcyon days!"

“I loved gunnery and it became my specialty. After all, what good is a battleship it she can’t hit the broad side of a barn? By the turn of the century, the Royal navy had developed, to a much higher degree, naval gunnery along the lines that approximated the real conditions of war. It resulted in using a system of direct firing. Today, it is the primary one for laying and firing guns on most classes of His Majesty’s ships.”

 

“During my first trip as gunnery lieutenant, I went to the rescue of the crew of a stranded steamer. I was in charge of a gig manned by volunteers. Our boat was upset in the heavy sea and my crew and I survived with difficulty. The stranded ship’s crew assisted us aboard!”

 

Everyone hearing the story, laughed.

 

“Did you have fear of drowning?” asked Joffre.

 

“Actually, I would say no. I was so worried about my crew, that the thought never entered my mind."

 

“I also took part in the expedition to relieve legations in Peking during the Boxer rebellion in 1900. A bullet found me as I climbed over dead horse. I received the Companion of the Order of the Bath that neatly covered my wound! In spite of my propensity for endangering my life, that year they promoted me to Admiral of the Atlantic fleet!"

 

“I have had several close calls in my career. My first command was the flagship Victoria. When the Camperdown rammed her, I again had to take to the water. One of my naval cadets saved me.”

“Here! Here!” exclaimed his companions.

“Tell us, Admiral,” requested General Rennenkampf, “What was the cause of the sinking of the Victoria?”

Jellicoe finished eating a portion of his meal before responding. He placed two saltshakers in front of himself.

"Back in 1893, our battleship Victoria, was the largest of its kind. At the time, she was the flagship of Admiral Sir George Tryon. I was its captain. You can imagine what a great opportunity that promotion was for a guy like me.”

Before continuing, Jellicoe poured himself a cup of tea. “The fleet had left Beyrout for Tripoli. The Victoria and its sister ship the Camperdown steamed in two lines twelve hundred yards apart."

“For some reason, Admiral Tyron wished to turn the whole fleet round. He signaled to the leading ships of each line to turn round in a semi-circle and to steer in the opposite direction to that in which they had been steering."

To indicate the movement, Jellicoe moved the two shakers on the table into positions representing the fleet.

“Then, naturally, the other ships in each of the columns would follow the ship ahead of them. This was all right and a simple maneuver, if each of the leading ships, Victoria and Campertown, turned outwards, or even if both turned either port or starboard. Sir George insisted turning both of the leading ships inwards toward each other. The ships
collided and the Victoria sank. The admiral paid for his mistake with his life.”

 

“What happened to you, John?” asked Joffre.

“I lost everything except my pleasing personality, sir!”

“Oh, come on now, old man,” pressed Joffre, “you must have had a difficult time!”

Jellicoe nodded his head several times.

“At the time of the tragedy, I was suffering from Malta fever and was in bed. I had just gotten to the bridge as the hull turned over and I found myself underwater. I started to rise to the surface and a midshipman swam up to me and supported me. A motorboat picked us up. I still have nightmares of the loss of those brave twenty officers and three hundred men!”

Jellicoe paused for a moment and stared at the ceiling. Everyone could see tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Tres triste!” cried Joffre. “In spite of such adverse situations, you are indeed a man possessed of much luck!”

Joffre changed the topic. He turned to General Kitchener. “I see that you have been wounded in your lower jaw. Tell us about it.”

“We all have our scars, don’t we? Well, when I was chasing Osman Digna in the Sudan, a dervish got lucky and shot me in my lower jaw. I never felt any pain, but I sure as hell could not issue any orders. The wound was serious and I ended up spending a month in hospital at Cairo. But as you can see, it didn’t affect my ability to bullshit!”

 

The men struck their coffee cups with spoons in approval of Kitchener’s remarks.

 

At Edward Grey’s table, the conversation took on a semi-serious tone.

“I have rarely crossed the seas,” said the Secretary. “Northumberland is good enough for me. It has splendid fishing.”

 

“Once, however, on account of a visit of British Cabinet Ministers to Paris most everyone spoke French. However, Asquith would not and Lloyd George could not, so I had to speak French. In French, I know my vocabulary to be limited, my grammar to be imperfect and my genders to be at the mercy of chance. My accent is atrocious. With my back against the wall, something relevant could always be forthcoming. When the Council was over, and we three British Ministers were safely outside, Lloyd George said to me, ‘You know, Edward, your French was the only French that I could understand!’”

 

“That is a wonderful story, Edward,” said Admiral Jackie Fisher.

 

“Even though my name is John French,” said the General, “I was a poor student of the language. Thank goodness for my wife. She hired a teacher who followed me everywhere! In three weeks, I was speaking like a Parisian.”

 

Slurping his soup, Admiral Augustin Lapeyrere mumbled, “I’ve always spoken French.”

 

Someone flicked a half-eaten roll at him.

 

Edward continued. “My eyesight worries me very much since I must read dozens of documents each day. The doctors say that I have glaucoma and that there is yet no cure for it. I think it has something to do with the Foreign Office, because my German counterpart Herr Holstein also had extremely bad eyes.”

 

Without a slack in his conversation, he changed the subject.

 

 “My principles of foreign policy are to implement our agreement with France made in 1904, and a similar agreement that we made with Russia in 1907. We agreed that settlement of our old quarrels as ancient rivals was vital. In order to disguise our goal, the agreements should not be entitled alliances. Entente sounds less threatening. Thus, Britain could continue to pursue friendly relations with Germany, provided Germany will acquiesce to our friendly relations with France and Russia. It seems to me a lesser evil that Britain should maintain the atmosphere of uncertainty with regard to her ultimate action, as conditional on the merits of a casus belli.”

 

The lighting of cigars and pouring of coffee interrupted Edward’s discussion.

 

General French helped him continue by apologizing for the interruption.

“Thanks, John,” said Edward giving him thumbs up. “War might arise so suddenly that the need for action would be a question of not days but of hours. Anglo-French cooperation has improved over the years, and our military reforms seek how best to supply a British expeditionary force. Together, we detailed a scheme for its immediate transportation overseas by agreed routes to join the left wing of the French army.”

 “Absolument!” cried Joffre clenching his fist and grinning broadly.

 

“One result of our conversations should concern itself with plans of the Belgian military authorities for the defense of their country’s neutrality. I warned the French military that they must on no account enter Belgium unless compelled to do so by previous violation of Belgium territory by Germany. The Germans must be seen as the villain by the entire world.”

 

His table companions nodded to each other in agreement.

 

“I have also a further point of view,” said Edward smoothing the tablecloth in front of him, “that I want to share with you. The door for a rapprochement between Britain and Russia opened after her difficulties with Japan. Today, we are on good terms with her. I believe that the entente between Russia, France and Britain is now secure. If it becomes necessary to check German arms, it can now be done.”

“Indeed!” said Joffre as he took his napkin and wiped his mouth.

Everyone stood up, stretched their arms and headed for the loo.

 

Before returning to the conference room, Grey turned to Joffre. “How do you find our Lord Kitchener?”

“Well, mon ami, today he seems in good form, so cheery and pleasant. He is most interesting and instructive and much less secretive than I had imagined. He discussed every sort of question with me and told me his views, always searching and far-reaching. I eagerly look forward to us working together. I believe with his wide experience he is perfectly capable of completing the final side of our war triangle.”

General Rennenkampf walked up to the two men and offered them a cigarette. Both declined the offer. Joffre gently waved his index finger at the Russian and asked him about his surname. “To me it sounds tres Allemand, n’est-ce pas?”

 

“Yes, my Gallic friend,” replied Pavel in clear French.

“Tell us, if you will, from where does your name originate, s’il vous plait?”

“If you insist, Joseph, I will. My last name certainly sounds German and creates a bit of confusion even among my Russian colleagues.”

Twisting the ends of his mustache, he offered to explain his genealogy. “Remenkampf stems from the region around Munster, Germany from the house of Mittendorf. The name is in documents there. However, the expression kamp means a field. It was, thus, a land term for a district that belonged to the Cloister Vennenberg. On a document dealing with
the sale of a house in the year 1482, was the signature of a Johann von Remenkampe. With the passage of time, the land title passed to the family name. By the end of the sixteenth century, a branch of the family settled in Riga as shopkeepers. Near the end of the seventeenth century, a Rennenkampf, with an ‘f,’ became the financial administrator for Latvia. As happened often on official documents, names are changed. My branch of the family has lived in and around Estonia and Latvia.”

 

Joffre grabbed the Russian General’s hand. “Would it not be a wondrous thing to whip Kaiser Wilhelm’s ass by a man with a German name?"