Watching Fritz

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Monday, 7 February 1916

David read aloud the reply from London. "Will have both posted as missing on reconnaissance behind enemy lines. Will have families informed. Courage. William." He blew out a deep breath and looked across his desk to Rick. "There's still a chance. Let's not give up hope."

Rick slowly nodded. "Yeah. So many possibilities." He tilted his head toward the door. "Why couldn't it have been Windhead instead?"

"Hah! Not a kind thought. But a just one." He laid the message on the desk, then he picked up another and read it to Rick. "Confirmed commissioning. Will have it Gazetted effective 3 Feb. William."

Rick washed his face with his hands. "This means I'm now an officer, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and already a finer one than Wilfred will ever be." David glanced toward the door. "What are his tasks today?"

"He's in the library continuing to scan the newspaper archive. I want to prove a suspicion."

"And what's the suspicion?"

"There's a pattern in the publication of family reunion type articles. We saw them starting a week and a half ago in the Worms, Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, Mannheim and Karlsruhe papers, but none in the papers outside that region."

"But that would be because there were no homecomings to report. The Fifth Army is based there, and they're doing the redeployment."

"But it's beyond that, Sir. There was much less censoring in the articles last week. In the earlier ones — we're back to the middle of December now — the battalions and regiment numbers were always censored."

"It's as if they want us to know."

"That was my thought."

"An elaborate ruse. Have Wilfred continue scanning, and you continue analysing — chasing this postulation. I'll cable London."

Rick rose and headed toward the door, then he paused and turned as he chuckled. "With the commission, I now feel less guilty having Wilfred call me sir."

"Carry on, Herr Krüger. Enjoy the irony."

Friday, 11 February 1916

Immediately David had returned from his Friday morning meeting with Colonel Pageot, he knocked on the Ambassador's open door and entered to the invitation. After greetings, he sat and reported.

"French reconnaissance aircraft have confirmed the movement toward Verdun, and they now have no doubt about the Kraut's intentions."

"And your strategic targets? The gasworks?"

"They've photographed it, as well as two of the coal-gas plants along the Rhein, but clouds obscured the others. Tuesday and Wednesday, they sent bombers to Oppau and Pirmasens, but with the low clouds, they could see nothing. Not even a railway or a bridge as an alternate target. They were to try again yesterday, but the overcast made it too dangerous to take to the air."

The Ambassador nodded. "Yes, they do need to see the ground. Not only to keep from hitting it, but also to know where they are. Flying is a fair-weather pursuit."

"Le Figaro shows much of northern France is under heavy overcast, all the way from the Atlantic to the Front and beyond."

"So, they can do nothing but wait for the assault to begin. That must be scary; knowing it's coming and being able to do nothing but wait."

"Better than not knowing, Sir. And they have a good estimation of when it will begin." He chuckled. "The German Embassy here wired Wilsdorf twice this week, wanting assurance the first portion of the order would arrive on time."

"That was due yesterday, wasn't it? Did he meet the commitment?"

"The shipment arrived in Metz Wednesday evening, a day ahead of schedule, and Hans wired this morning, informing me the Embassy had deposited the funds to his bank yesterday."

"That's a high value for him to have sent without prior payment. Must be near half a million. What guarantee could he possibly have that they would pay? I would have demanded settlement before delivery."

"But what guarantee would the Germans have that he would deliver?" David shrugged a shoulder. "I suggested he mention ongoing business with artillery fuses. We know they need those much more than the watches. They'd comply to keep the connection open."

"And how will Hans handle that? It goes against his loyalties."

"He questioned it as well. I suggested he feign being too busy with the watch order to discuss it. Once the final shipment has been settled, he'll begin by requesting the brass and other metals to produce the fuses." David laughed. "We know that is their greatest bottleneck; finding the brass. They're melting church bells and roofs, but still can't get enough."

Evelyn steepled his fingers to his lips and slowly nodded. "Clever. But, what if they do supply him?"

"We don't think it will get that far, but if it does, Hans suggested he can start with worst of the makers he's rejected, and he says there are many incompetent ones from which to choose. The best are all busy making fuses for us; one of them, a hundred thousand a week."

"A hundred thousand? That's a huge quantity. How much brass would that take?"

"Depends on the fuse model, but between half a pound and over three pounds each, so twenty-five to over a hundred and fifty tons per week."

"Good Lord! I can see why Fritz would jump at the opportunity." He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to sit at a baccarat table with you."

"What's baccarat, Sir?"

"It's a card game popular in France; often the choice of the wealthy, and frequently played for very high stakes. It's filled with strategic betting and huge ballocks."

"Somewhat like poker, then."

"Yes, as comparable as your 1893 trockenbeerenauslese is to a 1914 Thurgau." Evelyn laughed. "Both are card games, and both are wines, but there, the similarities end."

"So, do you think the Germans are playing baccarat with Verdun? They know the French pride. They know they will play their cards no matter the deal. They're left with no choice."

"It appears so. Surrender now or be slowly bled to death. I have no doubt they'll choose the latter."

"Which gives us more time to work at the German's soft underbelly."