An Honorable War

by Robert N. Macomber

  I launched into my briefing. “Finances first, sir. Payment to agents inside Cuba is done as we originally planned, through accounts at a French bank with branches in Quebec and Martinique, the Banque de Crédit Commercial. Each Cuban agent receives fifty dollars a month. Each of the other agents inside the Bahamas receives twenty a month, on accounts at the Bank of England sub-branch in Nassau. The naval officer agents receive nothing but their pay. Payment is approved by me, and subsequently by you, before coded fund transfer messages are cabled to the banks. Payments began June first and we just made another this last Friday, July second.”

  He gazed up at his father’s picture. “Excellent. How much is left in the fund?”

  “After expenses for the agent payments, safe house rentals, and retainers for transport and supplies in Nassau, the fund has twelve hundred dollars left in it.”

  “And these foreign banks, what do they know of the transactions?”

  “These are routine transactions, and no one knows the incoming money is from an American connection. The funds being deposited into the agent accounts are sent from a false company which I run, Benkelsky Soap and Perfumery of Amsterdam.”

  Theodore beamed and thumped the arm of the chair. “Bully good, Peter! What about communications to and from the agents?”

  “All communications are in substitution code, which is known only to the agent and my three men in Washington. Each agent gets a different substitution code, so they can’t be cross-compromised in the event of capture. We are not using the standard ONI or diplomatic codes.”

  “Good. And cable traffic?”

  “Telegraph cables from and to agents inside Cuba connect initially with Mr. Helmut Koch, an alias I set up in Montreal. The Koch cables are separately sent to Daisy Cake Company in Baltimore, an alias I set up in Baltimore. The secondary route for communications, should the first be unavailable for whatever reason, is to cable Jean Lafluer in Cap Haitien, Haiti, another alias which is run by me and is likewise separately connected to the Daisy Cake Company. Regular mail from any agent in Cuba goes to Johan Fisk at Sint Maarten in the Dutch West Indies, which is another of my fronts. There will be no mail going to any agent inside Cuba.”

  “Ah, a double layer of conundrums, and also an emergency contact should all else fail.”

  “Yes, sir. Also, our agents within the Bahamas cable directly to the Daisy connection, with any mail from them going there as well.”

  “What are the subject matters assigned to the agents?”

  “Information categories needed to comprehend the total picture in Cuba—of both the Spanish and the Cuban rebels. This includes the Spanish military and naval order of battle, along with the police and militia order of battle. Fuel, supply, repair, and training status of warships. Commercial and industrial status, and activity in the major ports. And, of course, Spanish secret police personnel and procedures, particularly the Orden Publico’s counter-intelligence operations.”

  That got a sly grin from him. “Ah, yes, the covert branch of which is run by your old nemesis, if I recall correctly.”

  Roosevelt didn’t know the details of exactly how Marrón had become my nemesis over the years, or how I’d tried my best to kill him in a Havana cathedral, of all places, nine years earlier. Hopefully, Theodore never would. I didn’t want him talking about it.

  “Aye, sir. Colonel Isidro Marrón is still around.”

  “Frequency of reports?”

  “We will get monthly reports. They can send one anytime in the event of urgency.”

  “Who will be responsible for receiving the incoming intelligence and organizing it into briefings for me?”

  “I will do the brief, sir. Two officers on temporary duty assignment to me will receive and organize the intelligence, Lieutenant Brecount and Ensign Connally. Both served under me at sea. They are sharp minded and quiet tongued. Invoking your name got them loaned to me for six months by the commandant of the Washington Navy Yard. They report in at my office tomorrow morning, but have no prior idea of their duties. They, or Rork, will check the Daisy connection in Baltimore each day, travelling out of uniform by the fast train.”

  “Hmm, your office will be a bit crowded, won’t it? You’ve already got Rork in there.”

  “Aye, sir. Crowded, but secure. I’ve had the locks changed.”

  “Are you still going to be the sole connection to the chief Cuban rebel and his headquarters in New York?”

  “Only myself, or Rork, will be in contact with President Tómas Estrada Palma, sir.”

  Adjusting his spectacles, he asked, “Señor Estrada Palma was a colleague of your friend Martí, wasn’t he? Does he know your profession?”

  “Aye, sir, on both questions. He took the presidency-in-exile after Martí was killed in action in Cuba two years ago. Very smart man, who has many friends in the New York press.”

  “Very good. Exactly who knows about this operation?”

  “Right now, the only people who know about any of this are you, me, and Rork. Brecount and Connally will know tomorrow when they report in. That will be all, unless you decide otherwise, and I hope you don’t. The cover story for other staff at headquarters is suitably boring—we are comparing U.S. and British naval equipment inventory procedures for a report expected by you at the end of the year. And yes, sir, we will be actually doing one up for you, on the side.”

  “Bully fine work, Peter! Are we sure all of the agents in Cuba are still unknown to Marrón and his henchmen, and ready to start communicating their intelligence?”

  “Yes, sir, as far as I know. The fifth of this month they are to send their first reports. By Tuesday we’ll have a clearer view of what is going on inside Cuba, or we’ll know who has been compromised by the Orden Publico.”

  “We have two main goals—obtaining Spanish defensive plans and setting up American offensive plans. When can we start getting results on the Spanish defenses at Havana?”

  “It will take about six months to get the Spanish defense plans for Havana, so figure next January. That will also be a good time for me to reconnoiter inside Cuba for our offensive contingency plans. All of this depends on our agents remaining uncompromised.”

  “Yes, but how will we know they are compromised if they still send a cable, but under duress?”

  Good question. “If they are communicating under duress, there is a code word. Only Rork and I know it, sir.”

  The reader will have noticed Roosevelt didn’t ask me the names or particulars of the agents, and perhaps wonders why. When we began in April, I explained to him I would never divulge such information and not to even ask. To his credit, he never has.

  I waited for the next question, but Theodore grew pensive, and focused on a mutely snarling bear head and skin on the floor. Then he curtly nodded.

  “Let it begin, Peter, and let us understand more than they know we do, so when the time comes we’ll know when and where to strike.”

  With that said, I went upstairs to Maria. As tired as I was, sleep didn’t come quickly. My mind was on six men inside Cuba, whether I could trust them, and the consequences of failure.

  The next day, I was in the office by nine in the morning to meet my new staff members. They were enthusiastic about the mission. Equally important, they understood Rork, though only a petty officer, would be senior to them in the decision-making. Even Brecount readily agreed, which surprised me since he had ten years of service.

  By nine o’clock that night I was still there when Rork, Brecount, and Connally returned from Baltimore. Rork reported, “Happy to say all the agents’ cables arrived from Cuba, sir.”

  Everyone waited while Rork deciphered the cables. More good news. None of the agents were under duress. The information sent was basic and contained nothing previously unknown, as I had fully expected. It was a solid start.

  I telephoned Theodore at his sister’s place
in Washington and filled him in, still using a code to thwart any listeners. “The transactions came through, sir. We have strong prices and production is expected to be high.”

  “Bully fine work, Peter! See you in the morning.”

  The Sugar Consortium was in business, and my life was about to get very busy.

  12

  Quo Vadis?

  The Celestial Club

  Lafayette Square

  Washington D.C.

  24 December 1897

  Busy is an understatement. I made monthly journeys to the Bahamas to meet agents, arrange payments, and solve problems. The cable reports provided so much information, and events were unfolding so rapidly, that we had to increase the frequency to weekly reports. This necessitated four different code changes over the next five months, because the Spanish were past masters at secret communications and penetrating layers upon layers of cypher protection.

  By December, I was nervously optimistic. The network was producing solid intelligence, and no penetrations were apparent. Brecount and Connally were naturals at espionage, comfortable with the trade craft but not cocky or complacent—Rork saw to that.

  But the situation in Cuba was reaching a climax, for the various factions exerting pressure were aware the turning point was approaching. It was an unsavory stew of personalities, politics, and policies, kept stirred up by uncompromising old men in each group on the island. The die-hard Spanish loyalists and their dangerous Voluntarios militia favored continuing the current colonial occupation; the Autonomists favored a home-ruled island, kept within the Spanish Empire; and the rebel Insurgentes demanded the full independence they had been fighting for thirty years to achieve.

  Added to the mix was the colossus of the north, the United States. We had our own adamant factions who were no less inflexible. It was a motley collection: the industrial giants had considerable commercial interests in Cuba, wanting stability on the island and low U.S. sugar tariffs in order to maximize profits; the New York press wanted instability in order to sell copies and make money; the exiled Cuban independence movement in New York and Florida supported the rebel insurgents and fed the press propaganda; President McKinley wanted to avoid war with anyone; and our Congress, some of whom wanted freedom for all in Cuba while others feared a Spanish withdrawal would create a race war against whites, inspiring blacks in the American South.

  In the middle was the U.S. Navy. Nowhere in the debate was the U.S. Army, which clung to their antiquated coastal forts, bloated seniority system, and quaint memories of fighting small bands of Indians out West.

  I looked forward to a quiet weekend, including a nice Christmas dinner with Maria and Rork. Cuba, Spain, the U.S. Navy, and Theodore Roosevelt would not be topics of conversation.

  Rork had already headed over to his quarters at the Navy Yard. As I was preparing to leave the office, Roosevelt stopped in. He invited me to meet him at his club, the Celestial, a convivial gathering place for intellectual types in the capital, for a cup of tea. It was a favorite location for him to hold confidential conversations when in Washington, away from the eavesdropping common among bureaucrats. This would be a brief stop for him, he said, before getting the long train ride north to Sagamore Hill for the Christmas weekend.

  Only “Yes” would do. As I made the short walk across Lafayette Square from the State, War, and Navy Building, I hoped the talk with Theodore would be brief, for I had to catch the short train south to Alexandria, where Maria was expecting me.

  I got there first. He joined me in the club’s lobby a moment later, then led the way to the enclosed loggia where we sat at a table by the window overlooking the square. The club was quiet, with only an elderly servant in sight. Outside, the square was also deserted in the fading light of an overcast sky, for those in government service, meaning everyone in the area, had gone home hours earlier.

  Not so for Theodore, and therefore me. The servant arrived with our tea and disappeared. A bright crimson bird flitted in for a landing on the outer window sill, where he squatted and studied us. My friend’s stern demeanor changed instantly.

  “Why, hello there, my little feathered friend. Don’t be envious of our warmth in here, for you, sir, are nothing less than the noble Cardinalis virginianus. You have true freedom out there.”

  He leaned forward, swiveling his head to see to the left and right out the window. “Now, where is your less magnificently feathered missus? She should be close by . . .”

  Only two things could divert Theodore from a naval topic: his family and wildlife. My train left the station south of Capitol Hill in thirty minutes. I cleared my throat. “Sir, we don’t have much time before your train.”

  Roosevelt’s head swiveled back and I was rewarded with a sheepish smirk. “Well, she is close by. They mate for life, you know. And when courting, he feeds her. Quite romantic. But, duty calls, and I must have an update on Cuba and our Sugar Consortium. So first provide me an update on the situation in Spain, then Cuba.”

  “Aye, sir. Regarding Spain, you may recall that two months after the Italian terrorist assassinated the Spanish PM in August, Sagasta and his liberals returned to run the government. Three weeks after that, Weyler was recalled and far saner policies were initiated with regard to Cuba. In early November, Spain granted amnesty to all political prisoners in Cuba and Puerto Rico. In late November, the Spanish granted Puerto Rico political autonomy within the empire. Sagasta wants to do the same in Cuba. I believe it will be formalized on January first.”

  “A fortuitous turn of events, indeed. Any bad news?”

  “The bad news is Sagasta is seventy-two and worn down by the political battles he’s fought for the last forty years. He is the glue holding the liberals together, but I don’t think he can physically last much longer. The die-hard conservatives are still powerful. We dare not underestimate them. The Spanish businessmen in Cuba were irate when General Weyler was removed, and the general was greeted by cheering crowds on his return to Spain. This outpouring of opinion is not only anti-Cuban insurgent, but also anti-American.

  “Hearst’s constant drumming for war in his newspapers is not taken lightly in Madrid. The Spanish conservatives were also incensed by our new ambassador’s October ultimatum to the government to end the war in Cuba. They declared they would defend the honor of the Spanish Empire and monarchy and not yield an inch on anything about Cuba. It was noted one of your naval confidents, George Dewey, was just sent to take over the Asiatic Squadron, close by their Spanish Philippines.”

  “Good! By gad, they should take note. I want them to take note. With Dewey out there they won’t catch us unprepared for action. It’s the best deterrence against war.”

  “Yes, sir. But logic may not be a dominant factor in Madrid’s decision-making, or with the colonial authorities in Havana. The conservatives still control a large percentage of the army and naval officers. The army is confident of a fight with us in Cuba, the navy less so. The rhetoric is getting hotter.”

  Roosevelt huffed. “President McKinley’s annual address from two weeks ago praised Sagasta’s peaceful policies. I thought it a very restrained speech, and devoid of any warmongering.”

  “The Spanish hard-liners completely distrust our president and anything he says, sir. Almost as much as they distrust you, in fact.”

  He laughed and slapped his knee. “Really? I rather like that.”

  I continued. “Now, as to the situation inside Cuba. It is unchanged as far as the internal military conflict is concerned. The Cuban and Spanish armies are still stalemated. But there is a new aspect. The lack of military progress has frustrated and angered the Spanish loyalists in Cuba. They despise the new home rule authorities in Havana and loath Sagasta in Madrid for compromising far too much, both with the Cuban insurgents and with the United States. They fear losing everything they have in property and rights, and the black Cubans. As a result, there is growing animosity toward Amer
ican citizens, whom they view as spies and provocateurs.”

  Roosevelt wasn’t laughing now. “I am not cowed by those Spanish thugs! Those hotheads are exactly why I have sent Maine to Key West. She should arrive tonight, and can be at Havana within nine hours once Consul General Fitzhugh Lee sends word for help. Let us go on, Peter. What are the latest reports from the Sugar Consortium?”

  “Agents R7 and R33 independently report the anti-American riots in Havana and Matanzas are being instigated by certain army and secret police officers, Colonel Marrón being one of them. The number of refugees from the fighting in Matanzas has increased to about a quarter of the population—about sixteen thousand people. The food riots there in October were in reaction to the utter inability of the government to protect or provide for the inhabitants. Tension is increasing in various cities. Americans are being warned to stay off the streets, even in the daytime.”

  “The rebels—what of them?”

  “They are resisting Madrid’s amnesty offer for rebels, sir. General Gómez issued an order that any Cuban officer who tries to take advantage of Spanish amnesty will be executed for cowardice—and everybody knows he means it. So far, very few have surrendered, and their rebel army fights on.

  “Their supply lines from outside the island are still tenuous, and many of their men who actually do have rifles are down to five rounds each. Agent R94 reports the Cuban Army in the central region has enough men now to go on a large-scale offensive, if only they had the munitions. He thinks they could take Matanzas in a week.”

  Theodore thought about that for a moment. “I heartily wish I could find a way to help those brave people, but that would be a violation of U.S. neutrality. Ha! As if anyone with a heart could possibly be neutral in the face of the Spanish oppression in Cuba.” He raised a finger, and his voice. “Hearst and his minions may well be jingo-spewing opportunists, but they do make a good point. Innocent people are starving in those concentration camps in Cuba!”