Conquest of America: A Romance of Disaster and Victory, U.S.A., 1921 A.D.

by Cleveland Moffett

  CHAPTER XVIII

  I WITNESS THE BATTLE OF THE SUSQUEHANNA FROM VINCENT ASTOR'S AEROPLANE

  During the next week, in the performance of my newspaper duties, Ivisited Washington and Baltimore, both of these cities being now inimminent danger of attack, the latter from von Hindenburg's army south ofPhiladelphia, the former from the newly landed German expedition that wasencamped on the shores of Chesapeake Bay near Norfolk, Virginia, whichwas already occupied by the enemy.

  I found a striking contrast between the psychology of Washington and thatof Baltimore. The national capital, abandoned by its government, awaitedin dull despair the arrival of the conquerors with no thought ofresistance, but Baltimore was girding up her loins to fight. Washington,burned by the British in 1812, had learned her lesson, but Baltimore hadnever known the ravages of an invader. Proudest of southern cities, shenow made ready to stand against the Germans. Let New York and Boston andPhiladelphia surrender, if they pleased, Baltimore would not surrender.

  On the night of my arrival in the Monumental City, September 15, I foundbonfires blazing and crowds thronging the streets. There was to be agreat mass meeting at the Fifth Regiment Armoury, and I shall neverforget the scene as I stood on Hoffman Street with my friend F. R. Kent,Editor of the Baltimore _Sun_, and watched the multitude press within thefortress-like walls. This huge grey building had seen excitement before,as when Wilson and Bryan triumphed here at the Democratic convention of1912, but nothing like this.

  As far as I could see down Bolton Street and Hoffman Street were densecrowds cheering frantically as troops of the Maryland National Guardmarched past with crashing bands, the famous "Fighting Fourth" (how thecrowd cheered them!), the "Dandy Fifth," Baltimore's particular pride,then the First Regiment, then the First Separate Company, colouredinfantry and finally the crack cavalry "Troop A" on their black horses,led by Captain John C. Cockey, of whom it was said that he could make hisbig hunter, Belvedere, climb the side of a house.

  The immense auditorium, gay with flags and national emblems, was packedto its capacity of 20,000, and I felt a real thrill when, after a prayerby Cardinal Gibbons, a thousand school girls, four abreast and all inwhite, the little ones first, moved slowly up the three aisles to seatsin front, singing "Onward Christian Soldiers," with the Fifth Regimentband leading them.

  Gathered on the platform were the foremost citizens of Baltimore, theablest men in Maryland, including Mayor J. H. Preston, Douglas Thomas,Frank A. Furst, U. S. Senator John Walter Smith, Hon. J. CharlesLinthicum, ex-Gov. Edwin Warfield, Col. Ral Parr, John W. Frick, John M.Dennis, Douglas H. Gordon, John E. Hurst, Franklin P. Cator, Capt. I. E.Emerson, Hon. Wm. Carter Page, Hon. Charles T. Crane, George C. Jenkins,C. Wilbur Miller, Howell B. Griswold, Jr., George May, Edwin J. Farber,Maurice H. Grape, Col. Washington Bowie, Jr., and Robert Garrett.

  Announcement was made by General Alexander Brown that fifty thousandvolunteers from Baltimore and the vicinity had already joined the coloursand were in mobilisation camps at Halethrope and Pimlico and at the GlenBurnie rifle range. Also that the Bessemer Steel Company of Baltimore,the Maryland Steel Company, the great cotton mills and canneries, wereworking night and day, turning out shrapnel, shell casings, uniforms,belts, bandages and other munitions of war, all to be furnished without acent of profit. Furthermore, the banks and trust companies of Baltimorehad raised fifty million dollars for immediate needs of the defence withmore to come.

  "That's the kind of indemnity Baltimore offers to the Germans," criedGeneral Brown.

  Speeches attacking the plan of campaign and the competency of militaryleaders were made by Charles J. Bonaparte, Leigh Bonsal and Henry W.Williams, but their words availed nothing against the prevailing wildenthusiasm.

  "Baltimore has never been taken by an enemy," shouted ex-GovernorGoldsborough, "and she will not be taken now. Our army is massed andentrenched along the south bank of the Susquehanna and, mark my words,the Germans will never pass that line."

  As these patriotic words rang out the thousand white-clad singers roseand lifted their voices in "The Star Spangled Banner," dearest ofpatriotic hymns in Baltimore because it was a Baltimore man, FrancisScott Key, who wrote it.

  While the great meeting was still in session, a large German airshipappeared over Baltimore's lower basin and, circling slowly at the heightof half a mile, proceeded to carry out its mission of frightfulnessagainst the helpless city. More than fifty bombs were dropped that nightwith terrific explosions. The noble shaft of the Washington Monument wasshattered. The City Hall was destroyed, also the Custom House, theRichmond Market, the Walters Art Gallery, one of the buildings of theJohns Hopkins Hospital, with a score of killed and wounded, and thecathedral with fifty killed and wounded.

  The whole country was stirred to its depths by this outrage. Angryorators appeared at every street corner, and volunteers stormed theenlisting offices. Within twenty-four hours the business men of Baltimoreraised another hundred millions for the city's defence. Baltimore, neverconquered yet, was going to fight harder than ever.

  The great question now was how soon the Germans would begin their drive.We knew that the Virginia expedition under General von Mackensen hadadvanced up the peninsula and had taken Richmond, but every day ouraeroplane scouts reported General von Hindenburg's forces as stillstationary south of Philadelphia. Their strategy seemed to be one ofwaiting until the two armies could strike simultaneously againstWashington from the southeast and against Baltimore from the northeast.On the ninth of October this moment seemed to have arrived, and welearned that von Hindenburg, with a hundred thousand men, was advancingtowards the Susquehanna in a line that would take him straight to theMaryland metropolis. A two days' march beyond the river would give theenemy sight of the towers of Baltimore, and how the city had theslightest chance of successful resistance was more than I couldunderstand.

  I come now to the battle of the Susquehanna, which my lucky star allowedme to witness in spite of positive orders that war correspondents shouldnot approach the American lines. This happened through the friendship ofVincent Astor, who once more volunteered his machine and his own servicesin the scouting aeroplane corps. I may add that Mr. Astor had offered hisentire fortune, if needed, to equip the nation with the mightiest airforce in the world; and that already four thousand craft of various typeswere in process of construction. With some difficulty, Mr. Astor obtainedpermission that I accompany him on the express condition that I publishno word touching military operations until after the battle.

  On the morning of October 10th we made our first flight, rising from theaerodrome in Druid Hill Park and speeding to the northeast, skirting theshores of Chesapeake Bay. Within half an hour the broad Susquehanna, withits wrecked bridges, lay before us and to the left, on the heights ofPort Deposit, we made out the American artillery positions with the mainarmy encamped below. Along the southern bank of the river we sawthousands of American soldiers deepening and widening trenches that hadbeen shallowed out by a score of trench digging machines, huge locomotiveploughs that lumbered along, leaving yellow ditches behind them. Therewere miles of these ditches cutting through farms and woods, pastwindmills and red barns and rolling wheat fields, stretching away to thenorthwest, parallel to the river.

  "They've done a lot of work here," said I, impressed by the extent ofthese operations.

  Astor answered with a smile that puzzled me. "They have done more thanyou dream of, more than any one dreams of," he said.

  "You don't imagine these trenches are going to stop the Germans, do you?"

  He nodded slowly. "Perhaps."

  "But we had trenches like these at Trenton and you know what happened," Iobjected.

  "I know, but--" again that mysterious smile, "those Trenton trenches werenot exactly like these trenches. Hello! They're signalling to us. Theywant to know who we are."

  In reply to orders wig-wagged up to us from headquarters in a whitefarmhouse, we flung forth our identification streamers, blue, white andred arranged in code to form an aeri
al passport, and received a wave ofapproval in reply.

  As we swung to the northwest, moving parallel to the river and about fourmiles back of it, I studied with my binoculars the trenches thatstretched along beneath us in straight lines and zigzags as far as theeye could see. I was familiar with such constructions, having studiedthem on various fields; here was the firing trench, here the sheltertrench and there the communicating galleries that joined them, but whatwere those groups of men working so busily farther down the line? Andthose other groups swarming at many points in the wide area? They werenot digging or bracing side-wall timbers. What were they doing?

  I had the wheel at this moment and, in my curiosity, I turned the machineto the east, forgetting Mr. Astor's admonition that we were not allowedto pass the rear line of trenches.

  "Hold on! This is forbidden!" he cried. "We'll get in trouble."

  Before I could act upon his warning, there came a puff of white smokefrom one of the batteries and a moment later a shell, bursting about twohundred yards in front of us, made its message clear.

  We turned at once and, after some further manoeuvring, sailed back toBaltimore.

  We dined together that night and I tried to get from Mr. Astor a key tothe mystery that evidently lay behind this situation at the Susquehanna.At first he was unwilling to speak, but, finally, in view of ourfriendship and his confidence in my discretion, he gave me a forecast ofevents to come.

  "You mustn't breathe this to a soul," he said, "and, of course, youmustn't write a word of it, but the fact is, dear boy, the wonderful factis we're going to win the battle of the Susquehanna."

  I shook my head. "I'd give all I've got in the world to have that true,Mr. Astor, but von Hindenburg is marching against us with 150,000 men,first-class fighting men."

  "I know, and we have only 60,000 men, most of them raw recruits. Just thesame, von Hindenburg hasn't a chance on earth." He paused and addedquickly: "Except one."

  "One?"

  "If the enemy suspected the trap we have set for them, they could avoidit, but they won't suspect it. It's absolutely new."

  "How about their aeroplane scouts? Won't they see the trap?"

  "They can't see it, at least not enough to understand it. General Woodturned us back this afternoon as a precaution, but it wasn't necessary.You might have circled over those trenches for hours and I don't believeyou would have known what's going on there. Besides, the work will befinished and everything hidden in a couple of days."

  I spurred my imagination, searching for agencies of destruction, andmentioned hidden mines, powerful electric currents, deadly gases, butAstor shook his head.

  "It's worse than that, much worse. And it isn't one of those fantasticthings from Mars that H. G. Wells would put in a novel. This will work.It's a practical, businesslike way of destroying an army."

  "What? An entire army?"

  "Yes. There's an area on this side of the Susquehanna about five milessquare that is ready for the Germans--plenty of room for a hundredthousand of them--and, believe me, not one man in ten will get out ofthat area alive."

  I stared incredulously as my friend went on with increasing positiveness:"I know what I'm saying. I'll tell you how I know it in a minute. Thisthing has never been done before in the whole history of war and it willnever be done again, but it's going to be done now."

  "Why will it never be done again?"

  "Because the conditions will never be right again. Armies will besuspicious after one has been wiped out, but the first time it'spossible."

  "How can you be sure von Hindenburg's army will cross the Susquehanna atthe exact place where you want it to cross?"

  "They will cross at the clearly indicated place for crossing, won't they?That's where we have set our trap, five miles wide, on the direct linebetween Philadelphia and Baltimore. They can't cross lower down becausethe river swells into Chesapeake Bay, and if they cross higher up theysimply go out of their way. Why should they? They're not afraid to meetLeonard Wood's little army, are they? They'll come straight across theriver and then--good-night."

  This was as near as I could get to an understanding of the mystery. Astorwould tell me no more, although he knew I would die rather than betraythe secret.

  "You might talk in your sleep," he laughed. "I wish I didn't know thething myself. It's like going around with a million dollars in yourpocket." Then he added earnestly: "There are a lot of American cranks andmembers of Bryan's peace party who wouldn't stand for this if they knewit."

  "You mean they would tell the Germans?"

  "They would tell everybody. They'd call it barbarous, wicked. Perhaps itis, but--we're fighting for our lives, aren't we? For our country?"

  "Sure we are," I agreed.

  Later on Mr. Astor told me how he had come into possession of thisextraordinary military knowledge. He was one of the Committee ofTwenty-one.

  The next day we flew out again to the battle front, taking care not toadvance over the proscribed area, and we scanned the northern banks ofthe Susquehanna for signs of the enemy, but saw none. On the second daywe had the same experience, but on the third day, towards evening, threeTaubes approached swiftly at a great height and hovered over our lines,taking observations, and an hour later we made out a body of Germancavalry on the distant hills.

  "An advance guard of Saxons and Westphalians," said I, studying theirflashing helmets. "There will be something doing to-morrow."

  There was. The battle of the Susquehanna began at daybreak, October 14th,1921, with an artillery duel which grew in violence as the batteries oneither side of the river found the ranges. Aeroplanes skirmished forpositions over the opposing armies and dropped revealing smoke columns asguides to the gunners. Hour after hour the Germans poured a terrific fireof shells and shrapnel upon the American trenches and I wondered if theywould not destroy or disarrange our trap, but Astor said they would not.

  Our inadequate artillery replied as vigorously as possible and wassupported by the old U. S. battleship _Montgomery_, manned by theBaltimore naval brigade under Commander Ralph Robinson, which lay twomiles down the river and dropped twelve-inch shells within the enemy'slines. Valuable service was also rendered by heavy mobile field artilleryimprovised by placing heavy coast defence mortars on strongly reinforcedrailroad trucks. None of this, however, prevented the Germans fromforcing through their work of pontoon building, which had been started inthe night. Five lines of pontoons were thrown across the Susquehanna intwo days, and very early on the morning of October 14th, the crossing oftroops began.

  All day from our aeroplane, circling at a height of a mile or rising totwo miles in case of danger, we looked down on fierce fighting in thetrenches and saw the Germans drive steadily forward, sweeping ahead inclose formation, mindless of heavy losses and victorious by reason ofoverwhelming numbers.

  By four o'clock in the afternoon they had dislodged the Americans fromtheir first lines of entrenchment and forced them to retreat in goodorder to reserve lines five miles back of the river. Between these frontlines and the reserve lines there was a stretch of rolling farm landlined and zigzagged with three-foot ditches used for shelter by ourtroops as they fell back.

  By six o'clock that evening the German army had occupied this entire areaand by half-past seven, in the glory of a gorgeous crimson sunset, we sawthe invaders capture our last lines of trenches and drive back theAmericans in full retreat, leaving the ground strewn with their own deadand wounded.

  "Now you'll see something," cried Astor with tightening lips as hescanned the battlefield. "It may come at any moment. We've got them wherewe want them. Thousands and thousands of them! Their whole army!"

  He pointed to the pontoon bridges where the last companies of the Germanhost were crossing. On the heights beyond, their artillery fire wasslackening; and on our side the American fire had ceased. Night wasfalling and the Germans were evidently planning to encamp where theywere.

  "There are a few thousand over there with the artillery who haven'tcrossed yet," said
I. "The Crown Prince must be there with his generals."

  My friend nodded grimly. "We'll attend to them later. Ah! Now look! It'scoming!"

  I turned and saw a thick wall of grey and black smoke rolling in densebillows over a section of the rear trenches, and out of this leapedtongues of blue fire and red fire. And farther down the lines I sawsimilar sections of smoke and flame with open spaces between, but thesespaces closed up swiftly until presently the fire wall was continuousover the whole extent of the rear trenches.

  We could see German soldiers by hundreds rushing back from this peril;but, as they ran, fires started at dozens of points before them in thenetwork of ditches and, spreading with incredible rapidity, formedflaming barriers that shut off the ways of escape. Within a few minutesthe whole area beneath us, miles in length and width, that had beenoccupied by the victorious German army, was like a great gridiron of fireor like a city with streets and avenues and broad diagonals of fire. Allthe trenches and ditches suddenly belched forth waves of black smoke withblue and red flames darting through them, and fiercest of all burned thefire walls close to the river bank.

  "Good God!" I cried, astounded at this vast conflagration. "What is itthat's burning?"

  "Oil," said Astor. "The whole supply from the Standard Oil pipe linesdiverted here, millions and millions of gallons. It's driven by big pumpsthrough mains and pipes and reservoirs, buried deep. It's spurting from ahundred outlets. Nothing can put it out. Look! The river is on fire!"

  I did look, but I will not tell what I saw nor describe the horrors ofthe ensuing hour. By nine o'clock it was all over. The last word infrightfulness had been spoken and the despoilers of Belgium were thevictims.

  I learned later that the pipes which carried these floods of oil carriedalso considerable quantities of arseniuretted hydrogen. The blue flamesthat Mr. Astor and I noticed came from the fierce burning of thisarseniuretted hydrogen as it hissed from oil vents in the trenches underthe drive of powerful pumps.

  Thousands of those that escaped from the fire area and tried to crossback on the pontoons were caught and destroyed, a-midstream, by firefloods that roared down the oil-spread Susquehanna. And about 7,000 thatescaped at the sides were made prisoners.

  It was announced in subsequent estimates and not denied by the Germansthat 113,000 of the invaders lost their lives here. To all intents andpurposes von Hindenburg's army had ceased to exist.