# 44

 

 Enemy Alliances Plot.

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

Kaiser Wilhelm: In the Service of  God and Evil.

Part III

 

Secretary Grey waited until the group sat down and quiet settled in.

 

“We are interested in hearing from our Russian friend and ally, General Pavel Rennenkampf. Good morning to you dear friend. General Rennenkampf, please give us the benefit of your advice on our hypothetical war.”

 

“Spahsseebah, Secretary Grey.”

 

 

“You are welcome, General.”

“Dobrahyee ootrah, gentlemen! I bring you greetings from his Majesty Tsar Nicholas!”

In unison, the group responded, “Good Morning, General!”

With a deep voice, that was powerful enough to be heard across a parade field, the Russian commenced, “Gentlemen, please observe my map of East Prussia. Notice that it juts out from the River Vistula, almost to the River Nieman, and is penned in between the Baltic Sea and the northern frontier of Russian Poland. It can be easily attacked from the east and the south.”

Rennenkampf spoke somewhat sadly, “Since our disaster against the Japanese in Manchuria in 1904, we are much better organized than ever before. We are ready to set up a battlefront not only to whip the Huns, but also to support our Western Front allies while they combat the German invasion.”

“Now, Gentlemen, think of a half-million men striking the poorly defended East Prussian border! Facing the Germans is the Russian First Army. It is four corps strong consisting of approximately a quarter-million men.” Rennenkampf pointed to the location of his troops on the map.

“The whole plan of mobilization was worked out ahead of time in all its details. When the moment arrives, one only has to push a button, and the whole state begins to function automatically with the precision of a clock’s mechanism. However, once the moment is settled there is no going back. It’s on to Berlin!”

“From Warsaw, General Alexsandr Samsonov’s Second Army will advance to join my First Army. His forces consist of about a quarter-million men. It creates a vice grip that will crack the nuts of the German defenders!”

“What will the Germans oppose you with in East Prussia?” asked Grey.

“Our spies tell us that General Prittwitz’s Eighth Army consists of three corps and one reserve corps.”

“My Russian First Army has four corps and General Samsonov’s has four and possibly five corps. Thus, we will offer a front of eight or more corps compared to the German three. Not bad odds, comrades, eh?”

“We Russians will strike from the northeast on a direct route to Berlin. That massive pressure will pull at least one German corps from the western front. Is that not a good thing, General Joffre? It should make your life easier during the first few days of combat.”

“Merveilleux!” remarked Joffre.

 

“My First Army will invade the north through Konigsberg and move toward Danzig. The Second army under General Samsonov will move from Warsaw to join me at Danzig and clear the way to Berlin. We expect our two armies to envelop East Prussia in just a few weeks time. Hence, dear friends, I expect to dance the Mazurka in the Kaiser’s Palace within three weeks of the invasion! Even better, let Russian and French troops clasp hands at the River Elbe! Wouldn’t that be a grand thing?”

Joffre interjected, “We are concerned that your transportation system is, how shall I say, not first class. How will you transport a half-million troops and supplies?”

The Russian responded, “We have purposely left our railroads in this sector undeveloped near the Prussian Border to handicap the invader. However, once inside East Prussia, we will confiscate their excellent engines and trains and fill them with our troops and military material.”

“My First Army does not expect much opposition until we reach major rivers. We are prepared to cross them with pontoon bridges wherever necessary. As my Army moves westward, it will entice the German forces towards us. Just as they believe they are facing but one army, the Second Army commanded by General Alexandre Samsonov, moving north from Warsaw will swoop down and strike the Germans in their rear! It will become an unfair battle; trust me, but one that will shorten the war by weeks.”

“While our First and Second Armies make soopoo, or as you say, soup, out of the Prussian defenders, Russia will send another one-half million troops against the Austro-Hungarian border!”

“Oui, monsieur General!” shouted Joffre. “It will be the proverbial ‘one-two punch!’”

Rennenkampf looked bewildered. “What does ‘one-two punch’ mean?”

 

Joffre demonstrated the meaning by gently tapping Rennenkampf’s chin and then his stomach.

“Oh, I see. You call it the knockout punch, n’est-ce pas?”

 

With deep concern Grey queried, “How soon can one expect the Russian war machine to reach its level of top effectiveness?”

“Our plan is to attack Germany,” explained Rennenkampf, “fifteen days after mobilization. Thus, it is vital that the Allied Armies maintain a strict schedule for our agreed upon strategy.”

“Thank you, General.” said Edward Grey. “I feel more confident now about our success against German arms.”

The group rose to congratulate the Russian General. His plucky attitude seemed to inspire everyone.

“I think,” said Edward Grey looking brighter, “it would be a good idea for us to take, what the American’s say at their baseball games ‘a seventh inning stretch!’”

Lighted cigars and cigarettes brought on coughing and hacking. Several farts filled the air. A couple of men practiced exercises to relieve sore muscles. Others went to the lavatory whence loud laughter emerged.

As Edward Grey and his group returned to the conference room, they found that the Maitre D’ had urns of coffee and tea brought in as well as bottles of spirits. The Secretary waited until the table was set and the doors closed to restart the session.

“As far back as 1902, I believed that Britain should align itself against Germany. Germany is our worst enemy! I told our Prime Ministers that nothing we do, in our relations with Germany, is in anyway to impair our existing good relations with France. I also maintained detente with Russia for she was hurting from defeat by Japan in 1905.”

“Russia will not have any trouble with us about an entrance to the Black Sea. The old policy of closing the Straits against them fades away. I say this in the strictest confidence. It is top secret, so forget you ever heard it! I include you General Rennenkampf. Also, let it be known that Britain favors Russia’s traditional ambitions in the Balkans. I feel strongly that bloodshed between Austria and Servia will certainly rise to fever pitch due to Russian sympathy for the Slavs. However, if our plans are to succeed, Servia must not jump the gun, but must restrain herself until all is in readiness with the Triple Entente.”

“Gentlemen, do you have any further questions of the General Rennenkampf? If not, let us hear from representatives of the British army, Generals Horatio Kitchner and John French. Lord Kitchener, please share your thoughts with us.”

While considering the topic at hand for a moment, Kitchner then spoke his thoughts aloud, arguing first the pros and then the cons, finally summing up and coming to a decision. At first, he did not look at his audience, but shuffled several sheets of notepaper.

Horatio looked up at his audience and spoke with firmness in his voice. “Gentlemen, first, I do not fear winning a war. Second, I fear very much we may not make a good peace. Third, any European war of the immensity we speak, will not be a brief one, but could last years. Finally, have we exhausted every effort to avoid a major conflict?”

Grey prodded the General. “Horatio, we are waiting for your discussion!”

Kitchener responded jovially, “As you gentlemen know, I have been appointed Secretary of State for War. But, don’t let my rank influence you. Just damn well do what I tell you!”

Everyone laughed.

On Horatio’s handsome, tanned face was a walleye that made it difficult to know to whom he spoke.

“When I was first appointed, I found the army in unsatisfactory condition. A simple example occurred when I first arrived at my office and was required to provide a specimen of my signature. A fountain pen and a single sheet of paper torn from a notebook lay before me, but the pen refused to work. With a show of my usual impatience, I flung the pen from me and said, ‘What a fucking war office! Not a scrap of decent paper and a pen that will not write!’”

Rennenkampf chuckled. “Russian generals carry pencils with them and a pocket knife with which to sharpen them!”

Horatio said jovially, “Pavel! Do you mind?”

Everyone laughed at the brief repartee…

“It is important to choose the right man for a given task. I select my own aides and trust them implicitly and they must trust and obey me in return. Failure to do so, for any reason whatsoever, is a thing I never excuse. A colonel of engineers told me that it would take three weeks to build a bridge over the Moda River. I said to him, “Colonel, if that bridge is not finished in seven days, we shall have to send you home! The job was done in six days!”

“One thing I did while in the Orient was to disguise myself in a flowing Burnoose and Turban and enter the Bazaars to get news of the Mahdi’s troops. You see, I speak fluent Arabic. Intelligence is vital, but it has to come from first hand experience.”

 

 

“Upon my appointment, I pledged to my King and my country that the military situation was going to change … for the better!”

“First, let me give credit to my friend and colleague, Henry Wilson, whom I chose as Director of Military Operations at the War Office. His belief of a coming war is a passionate conviction that nothing can shake. The future, as he sees it, is a matter of fact. Germany is going to war with France and we are going to fight side by side with the French.”

“Here! Here!” responded his friends.

“I recall Wilson saying to an audience, ‘In case you should walk away with any false ideas from what I say, it will be as well to explain that I am a lunatic! Several people in Whitehall intimate that I am a lunatic. Ergo, I must be.’ Whitehall has offices in which many wise men of England sit at desks and write papers to each other. Of course, they don’t read each other’s papers. They are carefully docketed by a large staff of clerks and then go into pigeonholes and remain there.’”

“Let me be frank. What keeps nagging me about this business of an imminent war is the question ‘Why?’”

“Yesterday, I was shopping in London and the merchant who knew me asked for a word with me. He said in his cockney accent, ‘Aye know nothin aboot the German nation, but aye know one German who don’t want war. I just paid him nearly fifty thousand pounds for goods supplied, and next year aye shall probably pay twice that amount. Though he may very well hate Jolly ol’ England, he ain’t such a fool as to quarrel with his best customer!"

“At any rate, as Lord Baden-Powell, the founder the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides, recently stressed, ‘Be prepared!’ It too, is my motto and I trust it is yours, gentlemen.”

“For just about the same reason, Wilson, when faced with much opposition from Parliament for an increase in the regular forces, magically made six Divisions ready for combat! With the help of the British railway companies, schedules meet the needs for movements to ports of embarkation. Our army will not face delay for the lack of transport. Thank the good Lord for men like Henry Wilson!”

“Here! Here!”

“Over the past several years our engineers have made detailed military maps of Belgium, from top to bottom. Our General Staff has carefully prepared plans for sending an expeditionary force to the continent in the event of a Franco-German war. They estimate that two army corps can make it to Belgium within three weeks. Thereafter, we British can cross the Channel with about one hundred and fifty thousand trained troops and take up position in western Belgium. We British may currently have a small army, but we have one hell of a navy! France and Russia have huge armies. The three of us can whack the Germans and Austrians anytime. It is my firm hope to raise seventy more Divisions. This will mean about one million troops in the fighting line with reserves ready to replace casualties and the sick.”

“How long Horatio will it take to raise such an army?” asked General Rennenkampf, puffing noisily on his meerschaum pipe.

“About one year!”

“Permit me also to interrupt, monsieur General,” said Joffre, “It matters little what you send; we ask only for one corporal and four men; but they must arrive at the beginning. You will give them to me, I promise to do my best to get them killed; from that moment on I shall be happy, for I know that after that the whole of England will come as one man!”

“Thank you, mon ami!” said Kitchener, smiling.

 

“A million plus men! How do you propose to do that neat trick?” inquired French Admiral Augustin de Lapeyrere, dusting tobacco ashes from his chest.

“History tells us,” continued Horatio, “that the first battle always excites in the heart of the people a fierce desire for victory—and after that, the brave young flock to the enlistment centers!

“The German army is at least equal in quality to the French and can mobilize a little more than two million against the French million and one-half. As I see it, the French must therefore seek a situation of more equality. I believe this is possible either before the full strength of the Germans occurs or after the German lines extend deep into French territory. The latter might be reached in about a fortnight or two.”

“That is absolutely correct!” exclaimed Joffre.

“At any rate,” continued Kitchener, “Britain can send two complete corps to France on the outbreak of war. Also, keep in mind that one hundred thousand troops of the British army in India could move at once and ship out to France. I would expect them to reach Marseilles by the fortieth day. These could be assembled en masse in the rear of the French left flank, but, in no way allowed to fritter away piecemeal!

“Also, we can expect troops from Canada, Australia and New Zealand. I estimate that from them, two complete divisions each could prepare to embark to England at a moment’s notice. Garrisons from Malta and elsewhere could form an extra division of the Regular Army. Anything that would assist us in opposing this new and most formidable danger would be of value to us.”

“Merveilleux!” exclaimed Joffre, vigorously brushing his mustache back and forth.

 

Kitchener appeared very serious. Contemplating his fingers, he said, “As Secretary of State for War, I must warn you and warn you again that having any thoughts of a short war, a ‘home-before-Christmas’ war, might very well be an illusion. Facing the greatest army in Europe suggests to me that the war could last two or three years!”

“So, gentlemen, I ask, what good is our small force going to do at the outset of the battle? If the von Schliessen’s plan goes into effect, our little band of soldiers on the French left flank can expect to face two complete German armies! Thus, in order to cooperate with General Joffre’s plan, the English will have to eat crow and retreat almost from the start of the conflict.”

“Such a sacrifice to make!” cried Edward Grey.

“Yes, Sir Edward, it amounts to a sacrifice. However, what I propose is to bluff the Germans here at home.”

“Here at home! Whatever do you mean, General?”

“We shall send out the word that Britain plans to raise one million men. Actually, I really plan to raise four million men under the very noses of the ubiquitous German spies. The feat of clothing, arming and training this mighty host, and then smuggling it out to France is difficult, but doable. I want to deceive the German General Staff as to England’s military strength, and confound Teutonic theorists who had always maintained that it is impossible to make a soldier in less than three years.”

I am interested in how your magic wand will accomplish this Machiavellian ruse, General?” asked French Admiral Lapeyrere who up to this point had remained silent.

“I plan, with the government’s support, to commandeer the services of the press to help carry out this great bluff.”

“Go on Horatio, even I am fascinated by your hocus-pocus!” declared Grey.

“I believe that it would be a grave strategic blunder to allow the enemy to know what is really afoot. Rather, the game should be to call for one million men but give press agents around the world stories lamenting the fact that, at last, the British Empire was about to crumble because the men of England had not the pluck to defend it! The Kaiser will brag that all those German reports, that the modern Englishman has become effete and anemic, are, indeed, true!”

“I don’t know, my friend. It sounds like a horse race to me. What makes you think it will work?” pressed Grey.

“Listen Edward, it could be easier than catching one of those elusive trout you are always bragging about! This is the twentieth century. We must be aware of how potent propaganda is in shaping popular opinion. The Germans have become masters of it. Now, we must become masters of our propaganda from the word go! I plan a full propaganda program to gain America’s support.”

“But, first, I will warn the newspaper editors that any indiscretion would mean a court-marshal, under the Defence of the Realm Act, on charges of spreading reports likely to interfere with the success of his Majesty’s forces.”

“Sounds like a bully idea!” said Admiral Fisher, his face gleaming with anticipation.

“You are quite insightful, Jackie,” laughed Kitchener.

Quickly changing to another topic, Horatio pointed to his Russian colleague, General Rennenkampf.

“For the sake of good relations with Russia, I suggest that any Allied resistance to Russian expansion toward the Black Sea and the Dardanelles be dropped.”

However, Secretary Grey, placing his fingertips to his lips, coughed several times. He had to avoid encouraging Horatio’s thrust into such a sensitive area at this time. Instead, he thanked the Secretary of War for his comments and turned to another topic.

Edward looked directly at King Albert, who throughout the discussion sat silently, his hands clasped in prayerful attitude.

“The British government is adamant,” declared the Secretary, “that if Belgium neutrality is violated, we are prepared to come to her aid. The Belgian army must take the field in concert with the French and British. Since the port of Antwerp is a major supply route for British and French armies, we are prepared to garrison troops there immediately after war is declared.”

“As I have often said, and still have no doubt, France fighting Germany without Britain faces certain defeat. On the other hand, the combination of naval dominance and the speedy dispatch of our forces could turn the tables in the beginning.”

“The man that we will place, as commander of The British Expeditionary Force, is well known to you, especially from his extraordinary successes during the recent Boer War. I have known Johnny French intimately for many years and I respect him and have total faith in his ability to lead our army.”

Without being invited to speak, Field Marshal John French rose ready to describe his strategy for a hypothetical war with Germany. His white mustache and long jowls gave him the appearance of a doddering old soldier. However, when he spoke his colleagues heard a tough, intelligent-minded, and very knowledgeable general. His steel-blue eyes shot daggers of fear into the hearts of his listeners: This man has a killer’s instinct!

 

 

# 43

 

Must Reads for World War One Buffs:

 

 

 From Google: George Sylvester Viereck: "THE KAISER ON TRIAL." 

 

From Amazon: Christian Gauss: "THE GERMAN EMPEROR AS SHOWN BY HIS PUBLIC UTTERANCES."

 

Karl Kautsky: "THE OUTBREAK OF THE WORLD WAR."

#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?"