29 December 1905, Moscow
The table, massive and gilded in the ornate fashion that dominated much of the Kremlin, easily seated the few men who had been called to the conference. Nicholas II presided, flanked by his confidants Dubrovin and Pobedonostev, whose advancing illness was now clearly visible to all. Pale and shrivelled, the Prokurator stood in almost comical contrast to the round-cheeked, cheery picture of health that Dubrovin was. On the right side of the table, First Minister Goremykin and governor Trepov, who had abandoned his post on the orders of the Czar and become his main adviser on internal affairs, had entrenched themselves behind a row of file binders. On the left, visibly uncomfortable in this company, sat General Sukhomlinov and Admiral Rozhestvensky.
They had been called upon to present their plans.
“Gentlemen,” the Czar began, speaking quietly, but with the kind of conviction he had not had in months, “I have called you here to discuss the feasibility of a war with Germany. You are already aware of that nation's shameful meddling in our internal affairs. The question that remains is not what we ought or must, but what we can do. I am heartened to hear that our position is far less desperate than some have claimed. Prokurator?”
Pobedonostsev smiled coldly and spoke in a thin, reedy voice. “Your Majesty, the main question in such a battle is to know the mettle of your opponent's soul. Emperor Wilhelm was a factor of uncertainty, but we have his measure now. The man is weak. You will have noted his moral depravity, of course - he refuses to marry still, openly cohabiting with a mistress who is a known whore. His court is a refuge of pederasts and effeminates. He is irreligious and morally aimless, and as it seems fitting for a character of his kind, helpless without the advice of associates of superior intellect.”
The two soldiers exchanged a momentary glance. There was one to talk! Pobedonostsev continued, pretending not to notice.
“His domestic policies show that he is weak-willed and ready to compromise to achieve peace and ensure his own wellbeing. Even his domestic enemies have been corrupted into acquiescence with his plans, we must not underestimate his persuasive skills or his political powers. but he has neither the backbone nor the faith to entrust his fate to the judgement of God in battle. That is what we must keep in mind first and foremost.”
Trepov nodded his assent. “If I may, Sire: his foreign policy to date has mostly been concerned with producing compromise, even at the cost of foreshortening his own options. The Congo Conference should tell you everything you need to know. Had he been patient, just a few more years of letting this fester, and then taken a firm line with France, he could have gained a large piece of territory for himself. The British would certainly have supported him. They would have had no other choice. This way, he has gained short-term accolades as a master compromiser and broker of treaties, at the cost of valuable land and giving up future laurels as a conqueror. He likes to be liked too much, Sire.”
Pobedonostsev took up his speech again: “Let us not forget he is a young man still, jealous of his honour and quick to overreact. He is given to panic and instinctively gives in to opponents rather than standing his ground when attacked. Neither does he have the Napoleonic gift for seizing the moment. Had he more fully supported the Japanese, or marched on us this summer, he could have gained large territories, even destroyed much of our army. Instead, he dithered, playing half-heartedly with his secret support and clandestine funding. He lacked the courage to grasp what he saw. That is the way this man operates. He is cautious, accommodating, weak-willed and timid. Faced with humiliation, he will not muster the courage to bear up.”
“Thank you, Prokurator.” Nicholas nodded gratefully. “With this in mind, general, admiral, what is your position on the practical side of things?”
Sukhomlinov cleared his throat. He had been briefed on what was expected, but it was still no easy matter. “Your Majesty,” he began, “you will understand that this is a prospect we have long considered with great apprehension.”
Nicholas waved dismissively. “General, I am sure the Germans are a formidable foe. Yet we cannot allow them to frighten us into inaction by their grand spectacle. What can we do?”
“Our hope must be, Majesty, to have an ally in France. Our intelligence suggests that the Germans in the event of a war will allocate the greater part of their army to the west, standing on the defensive against us in the hope of ensuring victory over France before turning east. This could prove a strategic error of the first order under the right circumstances.” He pointed to a map he had brought. “France has invested heavily in fortifications on its border. Germany must fight its way past this chain or abandon all hope of victory. No other route is open. Britain will never countenance an attack through neutral countries, and Belgium cannot ally with either side in such a struggle. Meanwhile, we would be in a favourable position to attack. Berlin is not far from the border. It has seen enemy troops before.”
“We can be sure of France?” Dubrovin had spoken out of turn. Five pairs of eyes focused on the interloper.
“As sure as you may be in such things.” Goremykin curtly informed him. “It would be madness for France not to join in the battle. Its only hope of recovering Alsace-Lorraine lies in defeating Germany, which it cannot do on its own.”
“Thank you.” Sukhomlinov continued almost seamlessly. “Now, the German army is formidable, as I have said, but not as dangerous an enemy now as you may have been led to believe. Firstly, the quality of its forces has deteriorated. Its cavalry is still excellent, but – Germany is not horse country. their men are no match for ours. And we will be able to deploy vastly more horse than they, with the bulk of their cavalry engaged against France. The infantry has suffered from recent expansions. The regiments have been diluted with newcomers, many of them unwilling and unmilitary, and they lack officers and NCOs to train the men properly. A significant portion of their training cadre is with the Poles right now. Their artillery is focused heavily on sieges and not mobile enough. And their entire military has no experience of battle. They have not fought a real war in near a generation, while our men come seasoned from Manchuria and Turkey. On the defensive, with ample time to prepare and receive the blow, all of this might not matter too greatly. We would still struggle against them. But here, we have been given an advantage.”
“How so?”Nicholas sounded genuinely curious.
”Our forces will already be in the field fighting the Polish rebels. Placing them in position for a sudden hammer blow against the German border should not be too difficult, and will not arouse suspicion.”
Pobedonostsev interrupted him. “General, will they not take precautions against such an eventuality?”
“If I may,” Trepov was not a military man, but he understood such things better than many field officer. “I do not believe they can. Wilhelm does not realise or understand the extent of his power. He is surrounded by a clique of industrialists and merchants whose liberal vision of government has strongly influenced him. Germany can only mobilise its army by drafting reserves of industrial workers. It lacks stockpiles of important raw materials to become war-ready. Doing so would cost it huge amounts of money. that alone would not be the problem. Germany has this money. But the emperor does not dare take it. While he values wealth and quietude over valour, we will be facing Germany unready.”
“Yes!” Nicholas sounded almost enthusiastic. “Politically, this would be what we seek. You understand, gentlemen, we do not want German land or people. What we seek is only what is ours. But to restore the honour and unity of Russia, a victory will be needed. With no territorial concessions required, peace could be made on easy terms. Look at how the Prussians dealt with the Austrians in 1866 – and now they are firm allies.”
Sukhomlinov cautioned. “Your Majesty, the French will ask for Alsace-Lorraine. Surely Germany will not easily give it up.”
Goremykin could not suppress a smile. “For all I know, they may be able to take it. But we will let Paris negotiate for Alsace-Lorraine and make our peace on our terms. Wilhelm will be glad enough to have escaped with his skin intact after the first defeats. And if he wants to go on – well, on the road to St Petersburg lie Poltava and Borodino.”
The general fell silent.
Nicholas turned to Admiral Rozhestvensky. “Well, so much for our chances on land. How do you rate them by sea?”
The admiral bowed his head. “Sire, better than they were. The German fleet is no longer superior to ours in the Baltic, and far inferior to both ours and the French, assuming it came to that. More likely, the French will seek not to provoke Britain and stay their hand, but even then, the Germans will require some units in the North Sea. Our own fleet has improved greatly with the training and experience the crews have gained. They are incomparable to the men who so disappointed us even a year ago.”
“So you would seek a battle to decide the issue?” Sukhomlinov asked.
“Perhaps. However, my subordinate, the very talented Admiral Nebogatov, has been working on a different plan which includes our lessons from the war with Japan. Dearly bought though they were, I believe they will stand us in good stead. And as Your Majesty pointed out, defeat and humiliation through a series of hard blows are what Germany cannot bear. Her coasts are almost inconsequential, but if we defeat her navy, we will bottle it up in port and never need to worry about it again. they cannot replace the losses of capital ships within the time of a war or recall units from elsewhere. There is no elsewhere. The French, meanwhile, may attack their colonies and trade routes safely.”
“You think they will give, then?” Trepov asked.
“I think so.” Rozhestvensky agreed. “Just like the Japanese would have, had the British not interfered. The German navy is a hard but brittle instrument. Its morale is strung to the highest pitch. It has no tradition of victory. Breaking it should be easier by far than the Prussian army.”
“Very well, gentlemen.” The Czar interrupted. “Let us discuss the details some other time. Recall, gentlemen, that I wish this to be an option to use should the need arise. Prepare yourselves in the event I should call on you to take this step, but do not be disappointed if the day never comes. And admiral, I wish to speak to your subordinate Nebogatov. He strikes me as a likely fellow.”
31 December 1905, near Lublin
“Be a damned strange peace if it comes!” Shloimo Ferber ruminated to no one in particular. “Damned strange.”
On the liberated desk in the railway station master's office he was using as his command post, a copy of the Berliner Illustrirte lay open, the leader presenting Russo-Japanese negotiations beginning in Genoa. Not that Italy was a bad place for that kind of thing – it was warm, for one thing, and Ferber would have been glad to be in Genoa right now - but the article also speculated at length about the possible compromises that might end the Polish and Finnish revolts. Michael Hartriegel, the war correspondent who had been buzzing around the Jewish self-defense militia for the last few months, had brought the paper from the city. German, French and British newspapers were much in demand now that they could be had freely, so much so that you could actually make money delivering them, it seemed. With the mail being hit-or-miss, paper sellers were often the only halfway reliable link to the outside world for civilians, too. The army had its own couriers, of course.
“Do you think it's going to happen?”, Hartriegel asked.
“No,” Ferber stated blandly. “But that doesn't mean anything. I didn't think any of this was going to happen, either. I thought I'd be spending this day cramming for exams, scrimping pennies to afford the ticket to New York. So, don't trust my prophetic gifts here.”
Hartriegel smiled sourly. His own predictions had been proven wrong a couple times, too. These were strange days. Lieutenant Colonel Lewin snorted derisively and said in the harsh, Brandenburg German he used whenever he was around officers, “If the Russians have half a brain between them, they'll make peace and only slaughter you the year after.”
The look of dismay on Ferber's face told him that was exactly what he feared, too. “There'd be a treaty, though.” he interjected. “Not all Russians are barbarians.”
“They could have fooled me!” Hartriegel's voice was icy. He had done interviews with the refugees from Odessa, Kiev and many other plasces where the Patriotic Union and its ilk had gone on their rampages. “Even if they make a square deal with Pilsudski, it won't cover you. Look, if one of those noble, humane Russian officers comes to town and meets Brianski, or Kukiel the boy wonder, he'll see a brave patriotic Polish gentleman. He looks at you, he sees an uppity Yid.”
“So we will just have to hope for the Kaiser not to let us down.” Ferber was verbally grasping for straws. Pessimism did not fit in with his character, and the hard-earned, world-weary cynicism that both his senior adviser and the journalist displayed put him ill at ease.
“Salomon.” That was what Lewin always called him when they were alone, “Salomon, you have to understand that the emperor is a real gentleman. A gentleman from a family that was noble before there was such a thing as Prussia. He'll sell your kind down the river just as soon as he sees any advantage in it. Meaning no harm or disrespect, of course, but he will. It's what gentlemen do.”
Lewin may have been brevetted a Lieutenant Colonel in the Polish National Army (his actual rank was Captain – the NA was making enthusiastic use of brevet ranks now that german advisers had drawn Pilsudski's attention to the pension liabilities all those promotions might mean for a future Polish state), but he had retained a hard-bitten NCO's view of the officer caste.
For a long moment, there was silence. “I think the only way out would be – out.” Hartriegel finally said.
“Out?” Ferber was confused.
“Out. If it comes to that, anyway. I don't have to worry too much because I have a German passport. It won't turn cossack sabres, but if I ever get arrested, they'll just deport me. As a journalist, I've committed no crimes. They won't hurt me once I'm out of the country, either. The Russians don't care for Jews, but they don't mind us living elsewhere. At least I hope it'll work out that way.”
Lewin chuckled mirthlessly. “If I ever get caught you can bet your life I'll yowl for the German consul. Won't do me much good, but I would. If they toss me out, at least I'd be safe.”
Shloimo shook his head. “That's all well and good for you, but it won't help me and my men. We're stuck here.”
“The Americans would take you.” Hartriegel pointed out. “even the Germans might allow you to emigrate to Südwest or Togo if you asked. You'd need the money, of course.”
Ferber began making a mental calculation,. The Kocziuszko Brigade had booked half a HAPAG ship solid to come over to Poland. Maybe you could make a similar deal. That would cost less than individual tickets, or at least it should. Fares were sky-.high, of course. Lots of the Jews coming from Russia wanted nothing more than to move on to America. Still, if you could do it...
“I guess we could pool regimental resources.”, he finally said. “Arrange for an escape route. I'll have to talk to a few others, but that may be the best idea. Just in case peace really breaks out.”
Lewin flashed a hard, nasty grin. “If you take your men across the border, I'll happily negotiate with the customs officers for you.” A few thousand bayonets might persuade them to forgo their accustomed thoroughness, at least. Hartriegel looked alarmed. “Please, don't. That's nonsense. Your best bet is to cross as a unit and get yourselves interned by the Germans. The press will make enough of a noise to ensure you won't be sent back to the Russians. Just put the money in an account in Germany so you can withdraw it and book passage, I'm sure the government will be obliged to have this headache removed.”
“So,” Ferber concluded, “our only problem remains finding the money to take three thousand men and their families across to America. That should be easy.”
Three thousand was probably still an overestimation, but the growth rate of the Jewish units was tremendous. Lewin looked up. “It's not that hard.” he said matter-of-factly. “Don't tell me you haven't put aside a little in spoils of war. Everybody does. Organise for its transfer to Germany and put the money into an account. I'm sure Bleichröder or Sal Oppenheim will happily take it. Our real problem is something else.”
They looked at him questioningly.
“It's New Year's Eve and we're still fucking sober. I'll go find us some vodka. Happy fucking 1906, everyone!” He stood and walked out into the freezing dusk past the sentries hunched around a glowing brazier in the station hall. His talents were impressive. Both Hartriegel and Ferber were sure he would be back with the required liquor to ring in the new year with style.
End of First Instalment
The table, massive and gilded in the ornate fashion that dominated much of the Kremlin, easily seated the few men who had been called to the conference. Nicholas II presided, flanked by his confidants Dubrovin and Pobedonostev, whose advancing illness was now clearly visible to all. Pale and shrivelled, the Prokurator stood in almost comical contrast to the round-cheeked, cheery picture of health that Dubrovin was. On the right side of the table, First Minister Goremykin and governor Trepov, who had abandoned his post on the orders of the Czar and become his main adviser on internal affairs, had entrenched themselves behind a row of file binders. On the left, visibly uncomfortable in this company, sat General Sukhomlinov and Admiral Rozhestvensky.
They had been called upon to present their plans.
“Gentlemen,” the Czar began, speaking quietly, but with the kind of conviction he had not had in months, “I have called you here to discuss the feasibility of a war with Germany. You are already aware of that nation's shameful meddling in our internal affairs. The question that remains is not what we ought or must, but what we can do. I am heartened to hear that our position is far less desperate than some have claimed. Prokurator?”
Pobedonostsev smiled coldly and spoke in a thin, reedy voice. “Your Majesty, the main question in such a battle is to know the mettle of your opponent's soul. Emperor Wilhelm was a factor of uncertainty, but we have his measure now. The man is weak. You will have noted his moral depravity, of course - he refuses to marry still, openly cohabiting with a mistress who is a known whore. His court is a refuge of pederasts and effeminates. He is irreligious and morally aimless, and as it seems fitting for a character of his kind, helpless without the advice of associates of superior intellect.”
The two soldiers exchanged a momentary glance. There was one to talk! Pobedonostsev continued, pretending not to notice.
“His domestic policies show that he is weak-willed and ready to compromise to achieve peace and ensure his own wellbeing. Even his domestic enemies have been corrupted into acquiescence with his plans, we must not underestimate his persuasive skills or his political powers. but he has neither the backbone nor the faith to entrust his fate to the judgement of God in battle. That is what we must keep in mind first and foremost.”
Trepov nodded his assent. “If I may, Sire: his foreign policy to date has mostly been concerned with producing compromise, even at the cost of foreshortening his own options. The Congo Conference should tell you everything you need to know. Had he been patient, just a few more years of letting this fester, and then taken a firm line with France, he could have gained a large piece of territory for himself. The British would certainly have supported him. They would have had no other choice. This way, he has gained short-term accolades as a master compromiser and broker of treaties, at the cost of valuable land and giving up future laurels as a conqueror. He likes to be liked too much, Sire.”
Pobedonostsev took up his speech again: “Let us not forget he is a young man still, jealous of his honour and quick to overreact. He is given to panic and instinctively gives in to opponents rather than standing his ground when attacked. Neither does he have the Napoleonic gift for seizing the moment. Had he more fully supported the Japanese, or marched on us this summer, he could have gained large territories, even destroyed much of our army. Instead, he dithered, playing half-heartedly with his secret support and clandestine funding. He lacked the courage to grasp what he saw. That is the way this man operates. He is cautious, accommodating, weak-willed and timid. Faced with humiliation, he will not muster the courage to bear up.”
“Thank you, Prokurator.” Nicholas nodded gratefully. “With this in mind, general, admiral, what is your position on the practical side of things?”
Sukhomlinov cleared his throat. He had been briefed on what was expected, but it was still no easy matter. “Your Majesty,” he began, “you will understand that this is a prospect we have long considered with great apprehension.”
Nicholas waved dismissively. “General, I am sure the Germans are a formidable foe. Yet we cannot allow them to frighten us into inaction by their grand spectacle. What can we do?”
“Our hope must be, Majesty, to have an ally in France. Our intelligence suggests that the Germans in the event of a war will allocate the greater part of their army to the west, standing on the defensive against us in the hope of ensuring victory over France before turning east. This could prove a strategic error of the first order under the right circumstances.” He pointed to a map he had brought. “France has invested heavily in fortifications on its border. Germany must fight its way past this chain or abandon all hope of victory. No other route is open. Britain will never countenance an attack through neutral countries, and Belgium cannot ally with either side in such a struggle. Meanwhile, we would be in a favourable position to attack. Berlin is not far from the border. It has seen enemy troops before.”
“We can be sure of France?” Dubrovin had spoken out of turn. Five pairs of eyes focused on the interloper.
“As sure as you may be in such things.” Goremykin curtly informed him. “It would be madness for France not to join in the battle. Its only hope of recovering Alsace-Lorraine lies in defeating Germany, which it cannot do on its own.”
“Thank you.” Sukhomlinov continued almost seamlessly. “Now, the German army is formidable, as I have said, but not as dangerous an enemy now as you may have been led to believe. Firstly, the quality of its forces has deteriorated. Its cavalry is still excellent, but – Germany is not horse country. their men are no match for ours. And we will be able to deploy vastly more horse than they, with the bulk of their cavalry engaged against France. The infantry has suffered from recent expansions. The regiments have been diluted with newcomers, many of them unwilling and unmilitary, and they lack officers and NCOs to train the men properly. A significant portion of their training cadre is with the Poles right now. Their artillery is focused heavily on sieges and not mobile enough. And their entire military has no experience of battle. They have not fought a real war in near a generation, while our men come seasoned from Manchuria and Turkey. On the defensive, with ample time to prepare and receive the blow, all of this might not matter too greatly. We would still struggle against them. But here, we have been given an advantage.”
“How so?”Nicholas sounded genuinely curious.
”Our forces will already be in the field fighting the Polish rebels. Placing them in position for a sudden hammer blow against the German border should not be too difficult, and will not arouse suspicion.”
Pobedonostsev interrupted him. “General, will they not take precautions against such an eventuality?”
“If I may,” Trepov was not a military man, but he understood such things better than many field officer. “I do not believe they can. Wilhelm does not realise or understand the extent of his power. He is surrounded by a clique of industrialists and merchants whose liberal vision of government has strongly influenced him. Germany can only mobilise its army by drafting reserves of industrial workers. It lacks stockpiles of important raw materials to become war-ready. Doing so would cost it huge amounts of money. that alone would not be the problem. Germany has this money. But the emperor does not dare take it. While he values wealth and quietude over valour, we will be facing Germany unready.”
“Yes!” Nicholas sounded almost enthusiastic. “Politically, this would be what we seek. You understand, gentlemen, we do not want German land or people. What we seek is only what is ours. But to restore the honour and unity of Russia, a victory will be needed. With no territorial concessions required, peace could be made on easy terms. Look at how the Prussians dealt with the Austrians in 1866 – and now they are firm allies.”
Sukhomlinov cautioned. “Your Majesty, the French will ask for Alsace-Lorraine. Surely Germany will not easily give it up.”
Goremykin could not suppress a smile. “For all I know, they may be able to take it. But we will let Paris negotiate for Alsace-Lorraine and make our peace on our terms. Wilhelm will be glad enough to have escaped with his skin intact after the first defeats. And if he wants to go on – well, on the road to St Petersburg lie Poltava and Borodino.”
The general fell silent.
Nicholas turned to Admiral Rozhestvensky. “Well, so much for our chances on land. How do you rate them by sea?”
The admiral bowed his head. “Sire, better than they were. The German fleet is no longer superior to ours in the Baltic, and far inferior to both ours and the French, assuming it came to that. More likely, the French will seek not to provoke Britain and stay their hand, but even then, the Germans will require some units in the North Sea. Our own fleet has improved greatly with the training and experience the crews have gained. They are incomparable to the men who so disappointed us even a year ago.”
“So you would seek a battle to decide the issue?” Sukhomlinov asked.
“Perhaps. However, my subordinate, the very talented Admiral Nebogatov, has been working on a different plan which includes our lessons from the war with Japan. Dearly bought though they were, I believe they will stand us in good stead. And as Your Majesty pointed out, defeat and humiliation through a series of hard blows are what Germany cannot bear. Her coasts are almost inconsequential, but if we defeat her navy, we will bottle it up in port and never need to worry about it again. they cannot replace the losses of capital ships within the time of a war or recall units from elsewhere. There is no elsewhere. The French, meanwhile, may attack their colonies and trade routes safely.”
“You think they will give, then?” Trepov asked.
“I think so.” Rozhestvensky agreed. “Just like the Japanese would have, had the British not interfered. The German navy is a hard but brittle instrument. Its morale is strung to the highest pitch. It has no tradition of victory. Breaking it should be easier by far than the Prussian army.”
“Very well, gentlemen.” The Czar interrupted. “Let us discuss the details some other time. Recall, gentlemen, that I wish this to be an option to use should the need arise. Prepare yourselves in the event I should call on you to take this step, but do not be disappointed if the day never comes. And admiral, I wish to speak to your subordinate Nebogatov. He strikes me as a likely fellow.”
31 December 1905, near Lublin
“Be a damned strange peace if it comes!” Shloimo Ferber ruminated to no one in particular. “Damned strange.”
On the liberated desk in the railway station master's office he was using as his command post, a copy of the Berliner Illustrirte lay open, the leader presenting Russo-Japanese negotiations beginning in Genoa. Not that Italy was a bad place for that kind of thing – it was warm, for one thing, and Ferber would have been glad to be in Genoa right now - but the article also speculated at length about the possible compromises that might end the Polish and Finnish revolts. Michael Hartriegel, the war correspondent who had been buzzing around the Jewish self-defense militia for the last few months, had brought the paper from the city. German, French and British newspapers were much in demand now that they could be had freely, so much so that you could actually make money delivering them, it seemed. With the mail being hit-or-miss, paper sellers were often the only halfway reliable link to the outside world for civilians, too. The army had its own couriers, of course.
“Do you think it's going to happen?”, Hartriegel asked.
“No,” Ferber stated blandly. “But that doesn't mean anything. I didn't think any of this was going to happen, either. I thought I'd be spending this day cramming for exams, scrimping pennies to afford the ticket to New York. So, don't trust my prophetic gifts here.”
Hartriegel smiled sourly. His own predictions had been proven wrong a couple times, too. These were strange days. Lieutenant Colonel Lewin snorted derisively and said in the harsh, Brandenburg German he used whenever he was around officers, “If the Russians have half a brain between them, they'll make peace and only slaughter you the year after.”
The look of dismay on Ferber's face told him that was exactly what he feared, too. “There'd be a treaty, though.” he interjected. “Not all Russians are barbarians.”
“They could have fooled me!” Hartriegel's voice was icy. He had done interviews with the refugees from Odessa, Kiev and many other plasces where the Patriotic Union and its ilk had gone on their rampages. “Even if they make a square deal with Pilsudski, it won't cover you. Look, if one of those noble, humane Russian officers comes to town and meets Brianski, or Kukiel the boy wonder, he'll see a brave patriotic Polish gentleman. He looks at you, he sees an uppity Yid.”
“So we will just have to hope for the Kaiser not to let us down.” Ferber was verbally grasping for straws. Pessimism did not fit in with his character, and the hard-earned, world-weary cynicism that both his senior adviser and the journalist displayed put him ill at ease.
“Salomon.” That was what Lewin always called him when they were alone, “Salomon, you have to understand that the emperor is a real gentleman. A gentleman from a family that was noble before there was such a thing as Prussia. He'll sell your kind down the river just as soon as he sees any advantage in it. Meaning no harm or disrespect, of course, but he will. It's what gentlemen do.”
Lewin may have been brevetted a Lieutenant Colonel in the Polish National Army (his actual rank was Captain – the NA was making enthusiastic use of brevet ranks now that german advisers had drawn Pilsudski's attention to the pension liabilities all those promotions might mean for a future Polish state), but he had retained a hard-bitten NCO's view of the officer caste.
For a long moment, there was silence. “I think the only way out would be – out.” Hartriegel finally said.
“Out?” Ferber was confused.
“Out. If it comes to that, anyway. I don't have to worry too much because I have a German passport. It won't turn cossack sabres, but if I ever get arrested, they'll just deport me. As a journalist, I've committed no crimes. They won't hurt me once I'm out of the country, either. The Russians don't care for Jews, but they don't mind us living elsewhere. At least I hope it'll work out that way.”
Lewin chuckled mirthlessly. “If I ever get caught you can bet your life I'll yowl for the German consul. Won't do me much good, but I would. If they toss me out, at least I'd be safe.”
Shloimo shook his head. “That's all well and good for you, but it won't help me and my men. We're stuck here.”
“The Americans would take you.” Hartriegel pointed out. “even the Germans might allow you to emigrate to Südwest or Togo if you asked. You'd need the money, of course.”
Ferber began making a mental calculation,. The Kocziuszko Brigade had booked half a HAPAG ship solid to come over to Poland. Maybe you could make a similar deal. That would cost less than individual tickets, or at least it should. Fares were sky-.high, of course. Lots of the Jews coming from Russia wanted nothing more than to move on to America. Still, if you could do it...
“I guess we could pool regimental resources.”, he finally said. “Arrange for an escape route. I'll have to talk to a few others, but that may be the best idea. Just in case peace really breaks out.”
Lewin flashed a hard, nasty grin. “If you take your men across the border, I'll happily negotiate with the customs officers for you.” A few thousand bayonets might persuade them to forgo their accustomed thoroughness, at least. Hartriegel looked alarmed. “Please, don't. That's nonsense. Your best bet is to cross as a unit and get yourselves interned by the Germans. The press will make enough of a noise to ensure you won't be sent back to the Russians. Just put the money in an account in Germany so you can withdraw it and book passage, I'm sure the government will be obliged to have this headache removed.”
“So,” Ferber concluded, “our only problem remains finding the money to take three thousand men and their families across to America. That should be easy.”
Three thousand was probably still an overestimation, but the growth rate of the Jewish units was tremendous. Lewin looked up. “It's not that hard.” he said matter-of-factly. “Don't tell me you haven't put aside a little in spoils of war. Everybody does. Organise for its transfer to Germany and put the money into an account. I'm sure Bleichröder or Sal Oppenheim will happily take it. Our real problem is something else.”
They looked at him questioningly.
“It's New Year's Eve and we're still fucking sober. I'll go find us some vodka. Happy fucking 1906, everyone!” He stood and walked out into the freezing dusk past the sentries hunched around a glowing brazier in the station hall. His talents were impressive. Both Hartriegel and Ferber were sure he would be back with the required liquor to ring in the new year with style.
End of First Instalment