“You in Army before, Lieutenant?”
“AEF in France. Two hitches, ’20 to ’24. Never got above Tenth Grade. I was just a dough.” Before he could ask, I added, “I was invalided out. Shell shock.” You only have so much courage. It’s a finite resource. Once it’s used all up, it’s gone. And god save you. But I didn’t say all that. He would find out.
“I hear it was rough.”
“I hope you never find out. You from Mexico, Lupo?”
“Guadalupe. My name actually Felix Gonzales Lupo-Guerra.”
“You been in long?
“Third hitch. Never been to Europe, though.”
“Count your blessings.”
“I do, sir, believe me, I do. Truth.” I tried to draw him out a little on the walk back to HQ, but he would not be more than polite. I knew that if he finished this hitch he would be a citizen, but I didn’t know why he would bother. The US was not what it had been. The Hoovers and Patton and the Trusts behind them had ravaged and pillaged bad enough, but once Patton’s Offensive had failed in ’21, and the Hoovers enlisted the Klan to do their dirty work for them, it had become a travesty of its former self. Almost as bad a travesty as the Republican Party, the Party of Lincoln, had become in its unholy alliance with the worst elements of the Old South.
What had happened to the Unions, the AFL was even worse. Their own brothers, the Mob, had turned on them, crushed them like so many bugs. With a steady supply of brutalized Irish revolutionaries fleeing to America with blood in their eyes, things had gotten pretty damn gory on the docks and in the steel mills. What had happened in the coal mines of West Virginia and Pennsylvania was just nobody’s business. Whole counties had been depopulated, then resettled with desperate French, Belgian, Dutch, and Northern Italian refugees.
“There’s a war on, shut up.” That had been all the excuse given. Anybody that protested wound up in the AEF. End of story. Nobody knew the butcher’s bill, but several million men killed was a safe bet. The Meat-grinder. That’s what Patton called it, as if that was a good thing. God, I hate the inside of my brain. I needed a drink. But I knew that Lupo was a straight arrow, would not approve of drinking on duty. Fine. I would survive. Maybe. It looked like I would have to find Eppi a couple of air compressors and some pumps. How hard could that be? Every good sized shop in the world had a compressor, pumps, I didn’t know much about. I suppose they had to be near the water, right? Having a plan is important.
The tailor took my measurements and the chit, I paid cash for an overcoat that nearly fit me and an officer’s cap. That just showed I was trying to please. Lupo was back with a couple dozen troops before I was done. I needed boots too, but obviously nobody in a Chinese city was going to be able to fit me. They have enough trouble back in the States. I was getting a little shaky and irritable, not too bad, but I would have to get some sort of booze, at least a taste, before I started biting the heads off of people. Not a good idea with everybody as heavily armed as they were around here. But just as I was about to invent some reason for sending Lupo off on some bootless errand, he sidled up to me and slipped a flask into my overcoat pocket. “Commander Epstein say to pace yourself.” I looked at him, he looked back, said, “What does that mean, pace yourself? Pace is to walk?”
“It means to take your time. Not to hurry. Sabe?”
“Si. Thanks. Commander is one smart man, no?”
“He is that. You have any idea where to get pumps and compressors?”
“I don’t know. Lots of factories near the docks. You know.” I did. I nipped into an alley, took a leak, nipped on the flask. It was that good brandy. I got the message. Do right for Eppi, and he would do right for you. Deal.
So I led them down to the docks, looked for the biggest building I could find, a big white concrete job, all glass brick and block. Five or six floors. It took a while to get there, the streets were a mess, but once inside, it looked to be a fish cannery of some kind. Lots of conveyor belts, lots of benches, lots of cans on the conveyors. What do I know? Nothing. So, go back to first principles. They have machinery. It must run off of something. Electricity or steam. Look up. Smokestacks, two each. A clue. Steam. So look at the steam plant. The big iron doors needed some persuasion, but a snapped-off telephone pole and six soldiers solved that little problem. Okay. Rail cars come in here, dump the coal there. Then a bunch of black gang types shovel the coal in those boilers. The water comes in here… Oh, look, a pump. Six inch cast iron pipe, steam engine. Nice. It only looks to weigh a few tons. Fuck it. He didn’t say move the bastard, he said find a pump. Done. Over on the other side of the boilers are the steam pipes. That huge piston runs a vertical shaft thicker than my thigh. That might be the drive for the conveyors. And over there in the corner is an air compressor even bigger than that damn water pump. Well, then. Next problem.
“Lupo, send a runner back to Commander Epstein, tell him we have something for him. Where next?”
“I guess we just scout up the docks, see what we can find.”
“Lead the way, Sergeant.” We headed for the next big building, that was a bust, sewing machines, no compressors at all. They must have cleaned up with brooms. We tried a few more, the garages had compressors, but little electric ones. I had an idea they would not do, but I marked them out on a map I was drawing, and went on. It was getting pretty late, our flashlights wearing down, when we came to a Fire Station with three engines. Well, fire trucks pump water don’t they? We could see through the dirty windows in the big garage doors, that one of them was a huge front wheel drive monster with solid rubber tires on wood spoke wheels. I sort of fell in love, and decided to steal all three. No firemen anywhere around, the doors had been blocked with fallen wire from telegraph poles, so we just broke in the side door, set to work. I had the crew clear the main doors. Details.
The batteries on the engines were long dead, but they all had cranks too, they were that old. They fired up, at least the two small ones did, they were built on Ford T Model chasses, but the big FWD was a pain. We had to open the compression releases, clean the copper strips to the magnetos, and even then we wore ourselves out before we figured out how to set the spark advance and throttle. I had messed with a big old FWD prime mover artillery hauler in France, otherwise we never would have figured it out.
It was a thrill to hear those big old cylinders firing. We let everything warm up, the men went up stairs and cleaned out all the canned goods, there were a couple of cases of rice wine, and we took all the axes, pry bars and other hand tools we could find. Then we lit the carbide lamps and headed to the Feniks, post haste. There was another air raid, but it was back behind the Train Station, so we ignored it. We might have been a little excited.
The streets were so bad we had to have a few soldiers out in front, scouting for bomb craters and collapsed buildings. We made it, just after dawn, Eppi was still up, giving orders. I hoped for an “attaboy”, but was disappointed.
“Sorry, Miles, but centrifugal pumps won’t do much good. Better than nothing, but they won’t pull much suction. We need piston pumps for salvage work.”
“What’s the difference?” For an answer he popped open an access hatch on the FWD and showed me. There was a big snail shell looking thing at the end of the PTO shaft, four inch hoses going in and out.
“See that? There is a housing and an impeller inside. Like a fan. A turbine. It spins the water, forces it out the hose with great force. But it won’t pull water up against atmospheric pressure. Even the best piston pumps, you understand, like backyard hand pumps, will only pull water up twenty feet or so, if everything is perfect. These centrifugals are designed to speed up water from a hydrant. They will pull water from a stream, or a pond, but not from deep in the water. Get it?”
“Well shit. Sorry. Want me to take them back? The fire station was deserted.”
“Not at all. I went and looked at that big pump in the cannery, that is just what we need. It’s too big, you have to lower a pump down into the hold of a ship as
the water goes down, you understand, and that one is just too big. But we can run it off of the boilers on the Eiben. A lot better than nothing. And that big compressor is pure gold. We would prefer gas powered portables, but so far so good.”
“So where do I find a big portable compressor?”
“Road crews have them, people that run jack hammers, railroad yards have them, quarries, lots of uses for big air pressure.”
“Fine. I’ll just go look.”
“You just go lay down. Take a drink. You need to get back on a daylight schedule, but I am pleased. You are trying, Miles, you will earn those bars, and once you get an idea of what is what, what I want, you will be fine. I need a land-side organizer. You will do fine. You just go back, keep an eye on that Hoskins. I will keep Delany. I will try to get power to you ASAP. I need a machine shop right now. You take it easy today, get a good night’s sleep and be here tomorrow morning bright and early. I will have another list of things I need. A welding shop would be a nice thing to find.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Commander, I will do what I can.”
“I can’t ask more than that.” I knew that was a lie, he was a hundred and fifty percent kind of guy, but words of praise have been rare in my life recently. Take what you can get. I stopped by the Feniks, bought a bottle and trundled off to my trundle bed.
>>>>>
His enthusiasm must have infected me, I got three hours of sleep, then woke up, brought the diary up to date, helped Hoskins sort tools, we interviewed a bunch of his Section Five buddies to find out if anybody had any useful experience. I found a few, sent them off scouting for compressors and pumps and welders. One thing about the Bonus Bastards, they are self-reliant. We had a small compressor here, but I knew we needed that ourselves. Somehow we had accumulated a few women, they were running a constant supply of tea and fried rice to all hands. I gave the eldest a handful of silver, told her to keep up the good work. Not sure she understood my English, but she nodded and took the money. Good enough. By then it was dark again, Hoskins and I shared a few shots, and I fell back in bed. Call it a day.
>>>>>
The next day started with a roar, and got worse fast. The roar was Eppi and Lupo arriving with a truck even bigger than the FWD, with a huge hunk of machinery built on the back. Before I had time to rub the crap out of my eyes, Eppi was in my face, “I need you to come with me to HQ. Now. You have to delegate a man to hook up your generator. We are out of time.”
“Sir.” Sometimes that is all you can say. “Hoskins? You have a clue?”
“If I don’t, I will find somebody. What’s the problem? The Japs?”
“The Germans.” Eppi said. “Kapusta will brief you when he gets back. You just have to hook this into the mains and fire it up. Here is a list of jobs I need done yesterday. Can do?” He handed Hoskins a sheaf of papers too thick for a clipboard. “ASAP.”
“Like I said….” His brain boggled. “The fucking Germans?”
“Kapusta will brief you.” He turned to me. “Ready?” I sat back down on my bed, tied my shoes, grabbed my overcoat and cap. Obviously nobody was going to gig me for incorrect uniform. Another soldier was behind the big truck in a flivver, he hadn’t shut it off. We piled in, and off we went. I had to sit in the back, I’m so big, so I didn’t get to get the word from Eppi. Lupo didn’t have much to say, the streets were so beaten up and the driver was in such a hurry it was all we could do to hang on. I won’t say we prayed, but God’s name was mentioned.
The guards around HQ were doubled, and the ackack on the roofs was manned and ready. A lot more cars were parked higgledy-piggledy everywhere, Chinese people standing in the streets looking worried. Somehow they know. They can smell trouble a thousand miles away. Ten thousand.
We barged on in, the guards obviously were expecting Eppi, and Hodges was in the main room, in front of a large map of the Line, pointer in hand. He greeted Eppi by name, pointed him to a seat in the front of the room. Eppi went there, but stood. I sidled along the wall, stood behind him. “Commander Epstein. Glad you could make it so promptly. You were the one who warned me of the possibility of this development, we thank you.”
He paused, swept the room with his piercing blue eyes. He gathered his thoughts, spoke softly. “Gentlemen, there has been an historic development. Edward, Prince of Wales, has assumed the throne of the British empire, and has opened negotiations towards an Armistice with the Chancellor of Germany, Hermann Goering.” A buzz swept the room, instantly cutting off when Hodges lifted his hand. “This does not mean the end of the war. We have it on the highest authority that General of the Armies Patton has advised President Hoover to not sign any such armistice. His advice is usually followed.” What an understatement that was. I started to feel my Polack rage bubbling up under my breastbone. We were getting screwed again.
“I am also advised that Germany will, as soon as the BEF forces are repatriated, turn all its might to the East, to clear the European and Asian continents of any traces of the Bolshevik forces, and consolidate the resources of Siberia under their rule.” He let that sink in.
“Sir?” Someone asked. “What of the Japanese? What will they do?”
“Any damn thing they want to.” Hodges rarely swore. Take heed. “Not to be blunt, but we have no idea what they will do. They might fight the Germans, they might attack the Chinese Nationalists, or the Chinese Communists, or they may do something else entirely. We do not think they will attack us, here, in Dalny, we have nothing they want. We hope. Not very military, I know, but we just do not know. Their…” He searched for a word, “… calculations are opaque to us. We have to prepare for attack. From anybody. The only orders that General Bradley has received basically say, ‘Stand firm, help is on the way.’ He was also ordered to get this port in operation, as soon as possible. That is the order I have received, and that is the order I intend to implement.”
Eppi raised his hand, was acknowledged. “Sir, do we have an ETA for the first troop ships?”
“We do not. You may assume they are on the way. Now.”
“Sir, yes, sir. I will do my best.”
“You will have my complete support. Name it, and you will have it.”
“I mostly need gasoline powered air compressors, gasoline or diesel powered water pumps, welders, both gas and electric, and men who know machining. I need divers and diving suits the most, but there does not seem to be much hope of those being available.”
“I will set detachments to all of those problems. How soon can you provide results?”
“I have the basis of a salvage ship now. I need to salvage a couple of tugs, get them running, then I need a floating crane. Then I can begin work.”
“If a troopship left San Francisco today, how long would it take to get here?” Hodges was on point as usual.
“Twenty days. Sir.”
“Well, then, we better get busy. I will have a phone line laid to your headquarters, you can have as many men as you can use. Machinists and welders, you said?”
“Iron workers, mechanics, and sailors also.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you, General Hodges.” He paused. “Will there be anything else?”
“That should be quite enough, Commander. You may go now.”
“Sir.”
>>>>>>
Eppi sat in the back with me on the way home, so he could fill me in. I said, “I remember that you told me that there was a chance that Germany and England would sign a peace, and I think you mentioned the Prince of Wales.”
“You think?”
“It was kind of drunk out, as I remember.”
“If I told you that, then I was very drunk. That was dangerous knowledge at that point.”
“Less than a week ago. So how did you know?”
“I know a German Admiral. I will not mention his name, but suffice it to say that the German Navy as considerably more liberal and more aristocratic than the Army. The Army is full of Vons and Junkers, but the Navy, l
ike the British Navy, is very old school. Real noblesse oblige. We happened to meet in Portugal a few months ago, and he let me know how worried he was about the whole situation. Kaiser Wilhelm is barely a figurehead these days, he is not at all strong. The Admiral is a monarchist.”
“Enough said.”
“Indeed. He feels that Goering’s adventurism will mean the end of the German Empire, indeed of all empires worldwide. But he did identify the prime mover in this plot. The key to this Anglo-German network is Charles Edward Duke of Coburg. He is in his forties. His full title is Charles Edward, Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. He is the fourth reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, two duchies in Germany, and the head of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. A male-line grandson of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, he is also Prince of the United Kingdom and holds the British title of Duke of Albany.”
“Fucking amazing.”
“You understate the case. He is, of course a cousin of the new king, Edward. He is attracted to the radical right, and is a supporter of many anti-Semitic groups.”
“You are Jewish. Patton does not love Jews.”
“Nobody loves Jews. Not even other Jews. Coburg was a rather nondescript General, but took personal affront when George V changed the name of the British Royal House from the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha to the House of Windsor. That led him to support this demagogue, Hitler. In the 1920s he got involved with a German terrorist group that tried to overthrow the Kaiser. Members of the group were involved in several political murders, and although he did not pull the trigger himself, Coburg funded these murders.”
“Sweet fellow.” I interjected. “While there was a war on.”
“Exactly right. After the failed Putsch of 1923, Coburg hid several Hitler supporters in his castles. Goering was hand in glove with this Hitler, although the government could prove nothing. Goering did not forget this great favor and later rewarded Coburg by making him a full general. But he also needed him for something more secretive. Goering was short of international contacts and did not trust his own foreign ministry. He therefore used members of the German aristocracy for secret missions to Britain, Italy, Hungary, and Sweden. Coburg was particularly useful in London, as he was a drinking buddy of Edward’s. Coburg’s sister, Alice Countess of Athlone, was Queen Mary’s sister-in-law, and fought for Coburg’s acceptance. The Duke was also an anti-Semite and blamed the International Jewish Bankers for getting England embroiled in a war with their cousins, the Germans.”
Polar Bear Blues: A Memoir Of The Endless War (The Endless War. Book 1) Page 5
